Bought At A Price

I've had a dream. It's burned within me since the moment I was born.

One day, I will be free.

You see, I've spent my entire life as a slave. At first I was a slave to my parents desires. Then I became a slave to my friends' expectations. Occasionally people did favours for me expecting something in return, and I became a slave to them too.

In college I became a slave to my professors, who endeavoured to use their status as slave owner to tell me to do whatever they wanted in hopes of making me a better person. I also became a slave to a number of creditors who underwrote that education.

And now, back at home, it all comes full circle. A few well-placed fists to the head illustrated this quite nicely.

My parents bought me for a price. They invested their entire livelihood into me, hoping that I might succeed. Every day they pour their hearts out before God hoping that I might become what they want me to be.

I was bought at a price. And because of that, I will never be free.

But it's okay. I'm hoping freedom ends up being overrated.

Insert Title Here

I was playing a computer game and had the option to go to a zone that resembled the Southwest US, or to a zone that resembled something a little more northerly. I opted for the Southwest zone, because it was newer.

As I was exploring, I had a mission to enter a Home Depot filled with people trying to kill me, grab a special item, and leave. I grabbed the item and managed to escape with my life by cycling faster than the zombies chasing me. I continued to run away over dry hills until I got to a ravine.

Once I got there, I found a church where I Cantori was on tour. After they finished I joined them on tour. We were driving in a heavily forested area of New Mexico, when we got to a bridge where we all had to get out and walk over it on foot.

It was a three level bridge. The top level was for buses and cars, the middle level was for bicycles, and the bottom level was for pedestrians. I took of my shoes (because everyone was), left them on the pedestrian level, and wheeled my bike through the bicycle level. Once I got there, I watched I Cantori get back on the bus, but then I noticed I was supposed to carry my shoes over myself, and I hadn't. So I left the bike and went down to the pedestrian level to go get my shoes.

As I was walking through the pedestrian area of the bridge, which was so low it was a tunnel, I noticed a tunneling machine blocking passage, and there were about three or four workers repainting the tunnel due to water damage. They began talking about how the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (highway 19, apparently) was significantly longer, and invited me to join them. While they were talking about that tunnel, the pedestrian tunnel morphed into the tunnel they were talking about, and I was now in Virginia. So I joined them in painting this 55-mile long tunnel. I was mixing blue and white paint together when I woke up...

Mahatma

The Old Soul sighed. "My old bones ache."

The Young Child asked the Old Soul, "Soul, why are you always sad?"

The Old Soul replied, "Child, every time I see suffering in the world around me, I take the suffering, and place it within my heart, where I carry it with me."

"Why?"

"You learn not to judge others rather quickly. But greater than that, I think it is a communal reflex. The world can be a very harsh place sometimes, and we all need to bear the suffering together in order to carry it all."

The Young Child looked confused. "But if you can bear other people's pain, why can't you share other people's joy?"

For a moment, the Old Soul smiled. "How can I be happy, when the old widow down the street cries herself asleep every night because of the empty bed beside her?"

"Does your misery relieve the old widow's pain?"

"No, but when our eyes meet, there is a look of understanding. I think it makes the world a less lonely place."

"And when was the last time you looked that widow in the eye?"

"I don't remember."

The Young Child was by now indignant. "You're just making things up. Why can't you be happy?"

The Old Soul sighed. "I've done too much. I don't deserve happiness."

"Well I think you ought to forgive yourself."

"How can I forgive myself for doing something I continue to do?"

The Young Child looked lost for a moment.

"Young Child, defend your innocence. Don't ever give your conscience reason to bother you. A mind at peace is the most valuable thing you can ever own."

"But Old Soul, what could you have done that is so bad that you cannot forgive yourself?"

The Old Soul betrayed a look of fear.

"I know you, Old Soul. You are so kind-hearted, yet you allow yourself no joy. Whatever it is you are doing cannot be so bad that it deserves your life of sorrow, can it?"

Once again the Old Soul remained silent.

"Haven't you ever been happy?"

A twinkle came into the Old Soul's eye. "Oh yes, once. I was so young and naive. But the love I felt... so deep, so... wonderful! alas..."

"Whoever it was must have been a terrible person for not seeing you like I do."

"Oh no, not at all! They were all wonderful people. I love them all very much."

"Then why... oh!" The Young Child jumped as an idea struck her across the face. "You think that if these people, who were so wonderful, rejected you, that the problem must then lie with you."

"No, no, no!" The Old Soul's head shook vigorously. "Sometimes things happen that are nobody's fault."

The Young Child was not deterred. "So you're hiding yourself under a sad face because you're afraid of bad things? You're hiding your heart because you don't want it to be broken again?"

The Old Soul could only look into Young Child's eyes.

"Come on! Old Soul, you're so silly. You're keeping yourself sad just so you'll never have to feel sad again. What is the point in that?"

The Old Soul smiled grimly. "Young Child, keep your conscience clear."

Then with a tearful eye, turned away.