There is the kind of article a writer writes without any intention of ever publishing. Often the words are composed to release anger, sometimes to clarify an idea and occasionally as some kind of farewell.

Everyone has a need from time to time to write such a piece; to hide behind imaginary paper allowing the freedom to talk about things like...Freedom. To express, through words, something readers don't really feel comfortable in hearing, other than in their own words or those that sound like their own.

Words have a Power; to create hope or despair; to initiate enthusiasm or anger; to spark a smile or a tear. They have a power to inspire greatness or wallow in the chains of ineptitude, to energize an individual's aspiration toward some lofty dream, or to spin hopelessly within the vortex of collective nightmares.

People need to seek a truth, as flawed a pursuit as they know it to be, even though such a voyage may take them where they dare not go. To do so one must have the courage of innocence stripped of all those 'sticky things' that attach themselves to us, keeping our conscience at bay. They make us hostage to other's whims and in the end, keep us from our freedom. Such stickiness keeps guilt close and inspiration afar.

Freedom is all about the idea of evolving truth, or at least as close as we humans can claim our version of it. And, it starts with words. The opposite of truth is the opposite of freedom.

Are there too many definitions for simple words like choice and freedom- semantics, are they friend or foe?

Like many things in life, the simple becomes complex and concrete becomes fluid. For every freedom gained there is a loss. If you have much, you can easily find those who have more. If you have little, there is always someone who has less. Perhaps at some point there is an absolute measure - in a vast forest, there must be one tree which is the tallest and one tree which is the smallest, but such an exercise is the epitome of futility-a waste of a life's fragile hourglass. Those tree farms we see along the road, where all the trees are the same size and shape, seem so eerily unnatural.

For each word a writer writes there is the responsibility for its consequence, known or unknown. Such is true for topics like compassion. Compassion is as personal as our thoughts and morality; no one should claim their standard' for others to follow.

Every human animal has capacity for compassion. To accuse another person otherwise is one of humanity's greatest insults. And yet, such is an effective tool selfish people use too often, as casual as a breath. Some say they do so to affect awareness; like gossip harming many justified under the guise that now others are 'more aware'. They all have their busy rationales of why, but too many such rationales can easily become blended into a meaningless drone.

Thinking folks, in time, grow weary of drones that never fly.

Compassion cannot easily be measured, though many try. Compassion can best be assessed by each person, because only they will realize the reward or the guilt in time. They do not need another's judgment. To accuse someone of not caring (implying your standard as their example) is a sly attempt of shaming them to adopt the convenience of a more popular clich. There is no need. They may just have a style of compassion that is hidden from their accuser, as it should be. It is private. And besides, if they deserve admonishment for their incomplete life, there is One more capable to do so in judgment.

There are two notions that separate people on this topic. It is as much a litmus-test as anything I have ever heard. Not to weigh one correct over the other, but qualifying them as both being different. Two people will gravitate to opposite definitions, yet both surely have compassion in their own way. They can claim- It is unfair that people are not treated equal because people are all the same. Or they can claim- It is unfair to treat people the same because people are all equally different. In a thousand years ironically both sentiments may still exist.

There is another irony which the human animal is capable of executing, in respect to their psychological and sociological practice, that has always intrigued me. Those who cry the loudest about flaws in others are usually those most guilty of the same flaws. I cannot pretend to explain why this is so, I only know that those who pretend they know the answer usually have issues with consistency.

Charity is a subset of compassion. An old saying represents well a three-legged stool: Give to only those in need, give that which will make a difference, and the most powerful part of charity is that only the giver needs to know-the anonymous gift. Too often charity is publically displayed for the benefit of the giver. Charity is for those in need, not for those who need to assuage their own guilt or be defined as sufficiently compassionate -there is a natural sin in there somewhere.

Freedom, Compassion, Charity, whatever the controversial topic, everyone needs to sometime write that cleansing letter which they never intend sending. It is a good exercise if one is periodically determined to clean those sticky cobwebs from the brain; committing to evolve into a better someone and challenging old ideas toward new illusive truths.

When you do, perhaps there is a chance of offering a small seed to someone who will plant it in their vast, individual garden for future harvest. There are some who might spit out the bitter seed in disgust, but such is as pure an example of freedom I know.

When we are no longer free to be different then freedom no longer becomes an idea to shout about, but rather just a word to whisper.