Everpresent are the chains of life, loudly clanking. Their clink-clanking drowns out the whispers of freedom. some of the chains have been unwillingly clipped to us--stereotypes of race, realities of our economic class, perhaps the burden of overbearing parents. Others we allow to restrict us--the code of our ethics and religions, our occupations, our relationships with others. combined, these fetters stretch into an ugly, metallic web of arbitrarily constructed limitations. Like the frantic insect stuck in the center of a spider's trap, we struggle for freedom, for opportunity, for choice. This struggle is typically short-lived and only moderately passionate--eventually we learn to become content with our chains. We accept the rhythmic clink-clanking of our iron ropes with which we have tied ourselves to others--our leaders, our lovers, our friends. We become satisfied simply by laying. We forget, however, happiness. The joy of an outstretched arm, the elation of an uninhibited decision! O, how we fret the emotional repercussions others will feel in accordance with our every move. We have fallen ill and the symptoms are our hesitations and stagnations--we know not the freedom we possess, only the secure and reliable clink-clanking of our bonds. We must acknowledge the existence of a life without bonds, without the superfluousness of arbitrary, random, pointless obligations. We must know the beast within our souls, the wildman that yearns for freedom. If we wait too long, the cuffs shall be too great in number to throw off--the time is now; it has always been now. Live fearlessly; your chains will be waiting! Return to your lovers, your state, your job, but first know what it means to live! Go West--Go Embrace--Go Express. Carry on not thinking all your chains to be evil, for those bonds can be significant in their own right, but do not ignore their ability, their responsibility to restrain--to incapacitate. Life existed before all, let it not fall content under the burdensome clink-clanking of your chains.
daniel j taylor
9/29/09, the eve of his 21st year