For years, I chased freedom like a horizon—always out there, somewhere. I thought it lived in passports, plane tickets, and the ability to pack up and go. And in some ways, it does. But freedom, I’ve come to learn, is much more subtle than movement.
My longtime yoga teacher used to say, “There’s no freedom without boundaries.” At the time, I didn’t fully understand. It sounded contradictory—wasn’t freedom the absence of rules? But that idea stayed with me.
When I left my home in New York and stepped into a nomadic life, I began to understand. I was living in the moment, sometimes by necessity more than choice. I let life inform me. I slowed down. I listened.
And yet—there were moments when I felt anything but free. Uncertainty, loneliness, confusion. The absence of structure can feel like a void. It can test your nervous system. But over time, I began to touch something deeper.
I realized freedom isn’t about having everything you want. It’s not about unlimited money or homes or even time. Real freedom is the felt sense that you can care for yourself. That you are well. That your body feels clear. That your mind is available. That you know when to say yes—and when to say no.
Freedom isn’t about escaping responsibility. It’s about taking responsibility for your own joy. Your own rest. Your own nervous system. Your own boundaries—which aren’t harsh or rigid, but lovingly firm.
Because in the end, freedom is not just what you run toward—it’s what you stand for within yourself.
