The Illusion of Freedom: A Personal Awakening

As a human being, I often found myself trapped in the same thought loop: How much better would life be if we didn’t have to work? The fantasy of waking up without the blaring alarm, skipping the traffic jams, and living life on our own terms is one many people quietly hold onto. But every morning, as I dragged myself out of bed to meet the demands of a rigid schedule, it felt less like living—and more like serving. I was caught in a cycle that drained my creativity and dulled my spirit.

It led me to a harsh truth: we are slaves to the clock. From an early age, the education system begins shaping us—not for freedom, but for compliance. School trains us not to think, but to follow; not to question, but to prepare. Prepare for what? A job. A career. A lifetime of structured hours and just enough income to stay afloat. And while a small few live freely, doing what they want when they want, the rest of us clock in and clock out—trading time for survival.

It felt unjust. It is unjust. And I began to believe that this quiet injustice might be at the root of so much crime, depression, and spiritual decay in our society.

Then came a moment that changed me.

One late evening, I was on the phone with a classmate. After a long conversation, she said she had to head to bed—work in the morning. Half-joking, I said, “Got to serve your slave time.” Her tone shifted. She pushed back hard, insisting she loved her job and her coworkers. She was offended—and we haven’t spoke much since.

That silence lingered. That night, I sat alone and asked myself: Was I wrong? Was it offensive to compare modern work to slavery? As I sat in quiet reflection, I felt a strange, intuitive nudge to search for the number “47.”

I followed the impulse, typed it into Google, and found a book: 47 by Walter Mosley.

Mosley’s novel, both historical and mythological, tells the story of a young enslaved boy known only by his number—47. At 14, he’s forced into backbreaking labor on a Georgia plantation. The cruelty he endures is visceral, unforgettable. But the story shifts when a mysterious figure—Tall John from beyond Africa—appears. A spiritual and supernatural being, Tall John is there to free 47 not only from physical bondage, but from the mental chains of servitude, urging him to unlearn the belief that he was born to serve.

Through this powerful tale, I saw the truth clearly: what slaves endured was infinitely worse than any job. To equate the two is not only inaccurate—it dishonors their suffering.

But I also learned something else. We’re not slaves, not in the historical sense. Yet we live under a different form of control: debt, consumerism, and the illusion of choice. Many of us feel enslaved not because we are forced—but because we’ve been conditioned. Conditioned to chase stability instead of freedom. Conditioned to accept burnout as normal. Conditioned to serve systems we don’t even question.

The real battle isn’t with the job. It’s with the mindset. The world doesn’t need fewer workers—it needs more awakened humans who know that real freedom begins when we stop letting the system define our worth.