When my sons were young they asked me if I’d choose liberty or death.  Answering them, I found myself analyzing the nature of liberty. Yes, freedom matters, autonomy, and yet, with the coronavirus, I find myself in the study of cells and how they came together to form the organisms we are.

What is it to surrender to the group, and of course in that surrender, especially in war, we may die.  The two are tied.

I’ve been concerned about my husband’s health, and this morning realized I have to let go, and acknowledge once again that  I don’t have control.  

There’s freedom in that, in surrendering to that recognition, and tears come, tears, sweet, not salt, as though dipped in honey made by bees organized in a hive.  

This morning when I felt my lack of control, my jaw let go, like the jaw of a snake.  I could take the world in whole, no judgment as to parts, simply whole. My pelvis released in response.  I swayed, sinuous as a snake, no need to hold or brace.  

I watch my grandson breathe and he breathes everywhere.  His little tummy goes up and down, in and out. He is whole.  I want to be like him, entranced with all that is here.

What is autonomy?  I don’t know but I know I’m part of a whole, and connection is breath.

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