When Affirming Freedom Means Letting Go

Updated: Dec 15, 2020

After all this time, I still find one of the earliest claims given to us by the Guides to be the most powerful:

I know who I am.

I know what I am.

I know how I serve.

I am here, I am here, I am here.

I am free, I am free, I am free.

Even though this expression has evolved through the course of the books and channelings, this most basic version says it all for me. Five lines that truly sum up the entirety of the teachings.

Today, that last line is on my mind. The claim “I am free” is one of joyful liberation.

Seeing ourselves as free doesn't come easily. Our culture has given us rules on morality, speech, appearance, relationships, lifestyle, career, and so much more. Commensurate to that, we’ve also been shown how things go when we don’t conform. Those lessons of the collective are powerful, indeed. Most of us have the scars to prove it.

To truly embrace “I am free” is to be able to stand in a moment of unconditional positive self regard and understand our personal, unique expression of the Divine is every bit perfect. To understand this type of freedom can be exhilarating. Affirming this freedom opens the way to even more freedom.

Taking the claim to the second person—

You are free, you are free, you are free

—brings yet another experience.

I’ve used these words to release anxiety around relationships with others and, with a little persistence, it helps. But the idea has gripped me tightest in the face of loss. I have sat with dying people and pets and this claim has been an important yet bittersweet tool for me. I’ll tell you about one of those times.

I had to say good-bye to my pup, Coltrane, a gorgeous silver-coated goldendoodle. When he was the much-too-young age of seven, a devastating, inoperable tumor suddenly struck below his spine. It transformed him from a romping lover of a boy into one who could barely stand; all within the span of weeks. I was crushed.

If you have lost a pet, you understand the anguish of veterinary decisions and the sheer heartbreak and doubt that envelopes it all.

I leaned into the words I had learned from the Guides in those final hours with my pup:

I know who you are. (Sure do, pal.)

I know what you are. (Love, just love.)

I know how you serve. (Thank you.)

You are here, you are here, you are here. (For the right now.)

You are free, you are free, you are free. (NO! Stop!)

When loss is right in front of us, the words, “You are free,” can be terrifying. We want to intervene, hold on, fix, plead, and bargain. We want to defend our loved ones. To simply release runs against every protective instinct we carry.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Back into the room with Coltrane, “You are free” releases the floodgates. Affirming he is free when he is on the brink runs counter to nearly every instinct I have. Such difficult words, but ultimately the right words. Surrender. After the sadness washes through, something deep inside eases in a profound way. The shift feels like a move from holding on tight to standing beside. It is right.

The acceptance that the other is their own vessel of free will and spirit can manifest a moment of breakthrough. Those of us who have occupied lifelong caretaker roles have worked hard to hold things together. We protect, we trim, we fix, we tuck, we love, and we stay awake nights with worry. Letting go, that’s a mighty challenge.

Yet in those exquisite moments of ultimate turning over of control, of allowing the other to take next steps, that is a whole ‘nother form of freedom. It is me saying, “I love you, and I trust you, and though I will miss you mightily,

You, love,

Are free.”

For me, that’s the moment when everything changes. It is a humbling instant that just elevates the other, when I, too, am released from the powerful yet persistent illusion that it was all and ever in my control. We are free, we are free, we are free.

And so,

We are love, we are love, we are love.