boxed xx

A box

This is not freedom.
But it is more freedom than others have.
My journeys have forced me to consider a true and pure definition of freedom that can't be lived easily in a human body.
It is dependent on many factors of environment and personal ability to act - personal willingness to do.
Self drive, determination.

I sit in a flat that is one of 4 two story townhouse flats in a grouping.
I listen to the mow of a lawn.
Every person progressively, as if by rote, takes out their mower (or other whizzing device) one after the other so the neighbourhood environment is not ever without a buzzing sound.
They get out their piece of machinery, each of them has their own, a version of the same thing, designed to fail eventually so they buy another one - 
and manicure their few square metres of lawn and/or garden. 
This seems to give a sense of completion to the people.

I'm an alien from another reality, that is why I speak as such.
My original birth was in a vacuum and then, I did not inhabit a body.
But that is another story and it cannot be extended upon here.

Every one has their box, which they live within, within which is a box which they watch and a flattish fluffy box, which they sleep upon.
A box to keep food in. A box to wash clothes in. A box to keep dishes in and chop vegetables on. A box to heat things up to a sufficient temperature to cook them.
And boxes to isolate the boxes within the box from each other so as to create the illusion of privacy of having your own box.

Is this freedom?
No.

Is this real?
Well, it has been made into a reality. Only because we have focused upon something like this, possibly without the direct intention to make this, but this has been made.

There is a very good reason why you may be feeling boxed in.

Everything is white, like a white sterile prison, it echoes. Like the void I was birthed within. The void was not a nice place, why do we recreate it here?

To some it is a palace.

To me, it is an inorganic dungeon filled with things. 

Damn things. 

Damn you, things.

I can get up and walk away, and disown every thing at a moment's notice. This is what I've done and I've learned a lot from it. Now I wish to help other's discard things.

Discard possessions. What you own, possesses you... one big wise man might say, well he's right. You want something? - you are it - you are just an interim of that thing at present if you don't perceive 'owning' the thing yet. But want is real. Want is.

That is how it tricks us. 

It makes us believe we don't have this 'thing' we want. But by wanting it, we have it. By believing we don't have it and then go on a path to 'have' it, we create time.

Time is pressed out into little jots on a screen and money is generated. The people are enslaved to time. Money is just a translation of that time.

How foreboding... but what to do with such information? Act? How does one act with the realisation that time is the essence of our chains that restrict us from freedom?

I don't know. I don't 'have' the answer.