Freedom Isn't Doing Everything
Every year around the Fourth of July, we spend a lot of time talking about freedom. We celebrate the freedoms our country was founded on and reflect on the opportunities we have because of them. Those conversations are important, but this year I've found myself thinking about freedom in a much more personal way. What does freedom actually feel like?
For me, freedom isn't about having unlimited choices or endless possibilities. It's about having the ability to choose what matters most. It's having enough flexibility to take a walk in the middle of the day if my body needs it, to spend time with people I love, to create, to rest, and to contribute to my community. I've realized that having money, success, or a full calendar doesn't necessarily create freedom if you never have the opportunity to enjoy the life you've built. If your schedule is so full that you never have time to care for your health, your relationships, or yourself, are you really free?
This month is also Disability Pride Month, and I think that adds another important layer to this conversation. Freedom isn't simply being allowed to do something. If someone who uses a wheelchair wants to visit a business but there's no ramp, are they truly free to enter? If someone wants to participate in their community but the environment isn't accessible, is that really freedom? True freedom requires more than permission; it requires access, opportunity, and a willingness to create spaces where everyone can participate. My freedom should never come at the expense of someone else's.
As I sat with these ideas, I found myself thinking back to the beginning of this year. When I wrote about the Year of the Fire Horse, one of the themes I encouraged everyone to embrace was choosing one thing. One cause. One project. One habit. One place to invest your energy. We live in a world that constantly asks us to care about everything all at once, and while that desire often comes from a place of compassion, it also leaves many of us completely overwhelmed.
Decision fatigue is real. Every day we make hundreds of choices, from what to wear and what to eat to how we move our bodies, which projects deserve our attention, and how we respond to the endless stream of news, responsibilities, and expectations. For many people—especially those who are neurodivergent—that constant decision-making can become exhausting. Eventually the noise becomes so loud that it's difficult to tell what actually matters anymore.
I've come to believe that one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is permission to choose less. It's not wrong to focus on improving your diet before starting an exercise routine. It's not wrong to dedicate your energy to planting milkweed instead of trying to save every endangered species at once. It's not wrong to step back from one cause so you have the capacity to fully support another. None of these are moral failures. They're simply choices. And perhaps the most freeing realization of all is that very few choices are permanent. If life changes, you can choose again.
Recently I was listening to a podcast about Japanese flower arranging, and one idea has stayed with me. Sometimes the artist intentionally removes what appears to be the most beautiful flower in the arrangement so the entire composition becomes stronger. The flower wasn't flawed. It simply wasn't the right fit for the finished piece. That struck me as such a beautiful metaphor for our own lives. Sometimes we have to let go of something good—not because it was bad, but because something else is asking for our attention.
The same idea appears in nature. A hermit crab eventually outgrows its shell. The shell wasn't a mistake. It protected the crab exactly when it needed to. Eventually, though, growth requires moving into a new home. What I love about this metaphor is that the old shell isn't wasted. Another hermit crab may one day find safety there. Letting go doesn't always mean something has lost its value. Sometimes it simply means you've grown beyond it.
As we move into July, I want to invite you to think about freedom a little differently. What if freedom isn't found in adding more to your life? What if it's found in choosing what truly deserves your attention? What expectations can you set down? What obligations have become too small for the person you're becoming? What are you holding onto simply because you've always held onto it?
One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that there often isn't a single right or wrong decision. There are simply decisions. We place so much pressure on ourselves to make the "perfect" choice that we become afraid to make any choice at all. But freedom isn't about getting everything right. Freedom is knowing that you get to choose, and trusting yourself enough to know that if your path changes, you can choose again.
As we celebrate Independence Day this week, I hope you'll also celebrate a quieter kind of freedom—the freedom to simplify, to let go without guilt, to choose intentionally, and to make room for the life you're actually trying to build. Sometimes the greatest act of freedom isn't doing more. It's finally giving yourself permission to do less, and to let that be enough.
