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This is not a new story. It is a story I wrote at the very beginning of my re-started writing practice about 2.5 years ago, almost untouched. It is when I decided to get into mindfulness/meditation practices for good to get me out of some loopholes I felt I was in and this story is about how I imagined the process to be like. Well, it does not go as expected,  but at least I am in better loopholes. 


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There is something in me. That wants to be free. That needs to be free. For such a long time now, it has recognized its cage as its home. Satisfied with the world it has set up in there. Once, though, it dared to put his head out of the cage just a little bit. And it saw what it was missing. It was missing the whole world. The world it was created for.


That thing looked inside. It saw the world it had formed for itself. Full of its past and present. It thought its future would be there too. But then it saw this new big world out there. There was something in this big world that felt familiar. It looked like it was this big world that thing was craving for for years.


Then, that thing remembered how it felt in its cage. Its craving for freedom. As if this was not its home already. Why was it feeling trapped in its own home? Was it ever possible to feel that your home was not your home? Should it try a new home? The big world, maybe?


Then, it put its head out again. Yet again, it felt that this, that is the outside world, was its real home. This was its future.


In a daring act, it put its little foot out too but dared not put its second foot out. It went back right inside. To the world that it had always been in.


But still, something felt wrong. Something daunting. Facing this feeling yet again, it wanted to dare more. Again, it put its head and foot out. Then, the second foot came out. Trembling. It looked around, afraid to start flying. On its back, there was the home that it knew from bottom to top, or it thought so, as well as the feeling of being trapped. On its front, there was the unknown but somehow familiar world, with its vastness. And somehow it knew that once it decided to get into the new world, it would never want to come back. So, it raised its wings and started clipping them. Then, it set its feet apart from the ground.


It was flying now. It looked around. It looked down. It looked around. It looked down. It looked around. It looked down. This place was freedom. This place was not trapped. This place felt right. This new world gave that thing a new feeling. Now that it was free from the bonds of the past and the present and the future. It was close to itself, not to times.


Then that thing looked down and saw its old familiar home. It wondered whether it should go back. It knew that it did not want to. But everything was vague here. As much as there was freedom, there was the unknown. It was high up, free from the boundaries. But it did not know where to go. And it was actually not even totally free. It had the longing for the old home, because that was familiar. It still had connections to it, drawing it near.


Hovering high up. Hovering and no direction. Was the worst decision better than no decision? Should it just go back to avoid uncertainty? What were all this daring steps for? All to go back to the old ways? To the trapping feeling it used to feel?


That thing happened to put his head high up in the midst of all this confusion. It looked up. And it saw a direction. There was light there. There were all the fellow things, soaring in the air peacefully. But that place was very high up. Should it dare? Can it make it up there? How did those things manage to do that?


It felt like one more daring was needed. That thing lifted its head up, stretched its legs and started clipping its wings harder and faster. It was going up now. To where other fellow things were flying. Even the road felt like peace. That thing started imagining how it would feel when it arrived up there. And it smiled.