Freedom Restricted

Lately noticing a sense of out-of-placeness/weirdness. Couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Not weirdness in being.

No, more weirdness in rubbing against the "constraints" of the Role being played.

Pure freedom - unbounded, unfettered, no preferences, no desires, begins to chafe (is a good word for it) against the inherent restrictions of the role. Since, the Role is a restriction by definition.

The role, the story, gets repeated, reinforced and rehearsed as we tell it to ourselves and others over and over and over. Who we are, what we are, how we should be, how the world, others and life should be.

We carry lots of things to remind us of the role - pictures, mementos, collectibles, memorabilia, each other.

So, as the repetition is dropped the constant replaying and rehearsing of who and what I am and should be drops away, there is a chafing - almost like being in a straightjacket

Without these reminders we would revert to our natural state w- clean, pure, no "shoulds" and roles and not much ahead of us more than what to do next.