When I was growing up, any time I had the opportunity to make a wish, I’d always wish for the same thing:

“I wish I could fly.”

It’s not really the kind of wish that the universe can grant for a human, and I think I knew that. But every chance I’d get for a wish– blowing out birthday candles, the wishbone thing, something about eyelashes… I’d always wish to be able to fly.

I still think that would be super cool, but now I understand that the real magic the universe offers tends to not manifest in such overt ways. I can’t remember if I ever told anyone about this wish. I’m guessing not; even then I knew someone would be all too determined to try to shut that dream down.

Looking back on it now, it seems pretty obvious to me that what I really wanted was something I had been taught that I already had as an American: freedom.

And I did have freedom in many ways. I was free to climb way too high in trees. I was free to rollerblade to the movie theatre by myself to catch the 9pm showing of the first Harry Potter movie. I was free to somehow successfully pick the lock of and commandeer a paddleboat that my friend and I had hopped a fence to get access to.

I was free to do a lot that maybe I shouldn’t have been free to do as a young whippersnapper. All of this trouble that I got into, whether I got in trouble for it or not, was an escape. Because at home, I wasn’t free to be a kid.

At home was chaos but also judgement. At home were adults who didn’t act like adults, and sometimes there were adults who acted like they had never been a kid. Our parents were often completely inattentive, and our family on my Dad’s side were completely overbearing. The stark contrast between the two was jarring. I never felt comfortable around my father’s siblings or parents.

So I was an insecure kid, and I honestly loved school; I think it offered a perfect balance of adults who paid attention but also didn’t expect perfection. My brothers were in their own grades, so they weren’t in class to bother me. I woke myself up early every morning and got myself off to school. I was safe there, and I knew what was expected of me.

Anyway, I was thinking about that dream of flying last night and the sensation of what it might be like– to soar through the sky with the wind in my hair. When the realization that the deeper desire was for freedom dawned on me, it kind of clicked that I do have what I wanted. And it’s, oddly enough, tied to the idea of flying.

In Tarot, the element of wind and air is tied to the suit of Swords. Swords represent the mind, ideas and thoughts. This year, 2024, is the first year of my life where I’ve felt legitimately free at heart, and a large part of that is that I finally feel free to share my thoughts. To speak my truth. To not be chained or confined by the expectations of other people’s thoughts and ideas. I feel free to be myself, and that’s something I’m immensely proud of.

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There’s a big difference between being prideful and being proud. Being prideful is centered in ego and self-absorption. It’s self-important and rooted in an idea that you are somehow more important than others; that your perspective matters more than others.

I am not that. I’m not better than others. I’m better than I used to be. And for that I am proud.

PS: I am working on kind of a larger writing project, so posts will probably be more sporadic for a while. Lo siento.