I have a tattoo of a birdcage on my calf. Last night, I dreamed that the ink on the birdcage was fading away; it was becoming nearly inappreciable in spots. I was disappointed and returned to the tattoo shop in order for her to redo her work.
“No” the artist said. “Its supposed to do that.”
I wish in life we could have what limits us fade away to nothing with minimal effort, the natural decomposition of walls and bars and ceilings. Sometimes its more complicated than that. Sometimes we have to sweat and bleed and sob and pray before the flood gates fall, the doors spring open, and then suddenly, we are flying free. Other times, it happens spontaneously and unexpectedly, and as we float along we suddenly pass through a channel into a different land than something we ever envisioned or dreamed of.
Regardless of how we get there, freedom is an exhilarating feeling. The rustle of the wind through flight feathers, the fresh air blasting up the nose and into the lungs, soaring into a land of new beginnings.