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Freedom for the body would be the freedom of walking in gardens, of moving about wherever it wished. But that would not be freedom for the mind. The mind would still be captive. Suppose the mind has freedom, freedom of thought, of understanding, of imagination, of actions, even then the soul would still be captive. But if the soul is free the mind is free, and the body is also free.
How do we attain this freedom? In the Sanskrit language there is a very expressive word for freedom: Taran, which means 'liberation,' 'swimming,' or 'floating.' And it is such a beautiful idea that both these things, swimming and liberation, are alike in their nature.
How true it is, as the Eastern poets have said, 'Life is a Bhavasagara, an ocean into which all things are drawn, fall and are absorbed.' It sweeps away all the plants and trees, animals and birds, and all that lie in the path of the flood; all are borne away into the ocean. Such is the force and power of the ocean. Similarly, this life sweeps away all the trees and plants, animals and men. Everything that we see is here only for the moment, and then is swept away. There is always a certain period after which the things that seemed so enduring have all disappeared. Our ancestors, if they came back, would not recognize the country, the houses, the trees, the manners. Everything would be different. All that was familiar to them has been swept away. That is the story of this life. That is why it is called Maya, the illusion created before us like a dream in the night. In the morning, it has all gone. All the happiness, unhappiness, pleasures, horrors, whatever we experience in the night, we perceive in the morning to have been a dream.
The whole of creation, when we come to think of it, is not in the end what we thought it was: manners, customs, faces, everything changed. That is the condition of life. It is just like the sea. The tide comes, and it sweeps all before it, flowers, fruit and all. Therefore, life is pictured by the thinkers of the East as an ocean into which everything is swept. (Hazrat Inayat Khan)