Day 2: Pure Freedom – Can you handle it, baby?

By Kai Teo
First published in the print edition of The Ozorian Prophet, Tuesday Aug 4, 2015

Photo courtesy: Ildikó Répáczky

All of us have once thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if humans had complete freedom?” The freedom to love whoever we want, the freedom to be whatever we feel, the freedom to live our lives the way we think true humanity should.

It’s easy to create a simple picture of freedom – everyone dances together, lives with one another, and embraces the fact that we are one. 

But on the dance floor, sometimes, in the midst of the mighty horde of multicoloured unicorns galloping towards the eternal horizon of galactic chakras, and in our received visions of infinite repetitions of divine revelations, we tend to forget the one golden rule of freedom:

“Your freedom ends where another being’s freedom begins.”

Our egos take over, our animalistic instincts devour us, and we forget simple shit like, “Maybe this person doesn’t feel like having my sweaty face 2 centimetres away from her, telling her that I absolutely love Ozora, 200 times, according to the psytrance beat.”

And then when someone pulls away from us, we go, “Why is this person so uptight? Isn’t it a festival? Isn’t this a celebration of freedom?”

Hold your unicorns, lovers and friends.

We all know the little things that piss us off just a little bit. Someone stomping through the crowd because the “drop” is happening and this heavily muscled behemoth is spilling beer all over your new pixie top. Maybe someone that threw a 432 degree Celsius cigarette butt on your newly moisturised feet. 

We have all been victims of this crime against freedom, and we have all been the dirty, filthy culprits. 

Because sometimes, we forget that fractal sacred geometry is less important than saying sorry to the person whose foot you just stomped on because you were in a hurry to go to “The Cities of the Future”. We forget that no matter which planet or what coloured Shiva you have just connected to, the more beautiful thing might just be to connect to your dance partners with a little thumbs-up.

We’re all in this together. Our planetary connection with creation last evening can be purchased in a little zip-loc bag that costs 10 Euros. And believe me, we all saw the same spaceship. Yours is not more special than mine. They’re all made by Mitsubitshi.

So if at any one moment, we believe that our sudden cosmic revelation makes us more important, or more “aware”, that the drunk dude passed out on the dance floor with sand in his mouth. Beep! Beep! Boop! Wrong answer!

We are all one. And what this overused phrase might actually water down to, is just asking a stranger if she wants a sip of your warm beer. 

So as we travel to the far reaches of space, space, space, space, space, and the inner depths of our personal spaces. Let us remember that our space shuttle is actually a kite, and that while we fly to infinity, we stay rooted to humanity.

So have a blast, and buy someone a beer – when you combine these two experiences, candy flipping wouldn’t even stand a chance.


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