Many people say they want freedom.
They imagine it as the highest state.
Something ahead of them.
Something they’ll arrive at one day.
Freedom from their current work.
Freedom from repetitive thoughts.
Freedom from identity.
Freedom from feeling tied down in their relationships.
But often, when you listen closely,
what you’re orienting toward isn’t freedom.
It’s escape.
Escape from pressure.
Escape from discomfort.
Escape from the parts of life that feel heavy or unresolved.
You can feel the difference in your body.
When you’re orienting toward escape,
your energy pulls forward fast.
Your breath quickens.
Your thoughts race ahead.
There’s urgency.
Restlessness.
A need to get out.
Escape feels light at first.
Relieving.
Hopeful.
And it’s easy for this to be hijacked —
by people, promises, or paths that offer a quick way away from where you are.
But it doesn’t last.
Because nothing inside you actually settles.
True freedom feels different.
It doesn’t rush you forward.
It brings you back.
Back into your body.
Back into your breath.
Back into a sense of steadiness.
Back into the quiet knowing
of what you’re no longer available for.
Freedom isn’t always movement.
Sometimes it’s stillness.
It’s the absence of inner resistance.
The feeling of not needing to run from your own life.
Of being able to stay — even when things are imperfect.
A sovereign, contained woman knows this.
She doesn’t chase freedom through change or motion.
She notices when the urge to “be free”
is really the urge to leave herself.
So she pauses.
She lets her body settle.
She stays with what feels uncomfortable
long enough for clarity to arrive.
From there, she moves —
but she moves while holding herself.
High vibration isn’t floating above life.
It’s being grounded enough to remain inside it.
To let the body hold the energy, rather than leak it.
Escape drains energy.
Freedom gathers it.
You can feel which one you’re choosing
by noticing whether your body is bracing —
or resting.
Sit with that.
