Freedom is alone. It must not depend. It must not grasp. It is the mind without a ground, therefore it does not know. Knowing requires an anchor, and anchor is what is called home. But home is attachment, and when mind is attached, it is not free.
Reliance on anything, even the Self, or some other mystical concepts predicated by some religious authority, is still bondage. Implied in this is the sense of lack, and therefore not being enough, needing to be fulfilled, or to stay in a state long enough to prove that one is worthy of the name of freedom. Such is not liberation. Liberation is the cessation of all bondage, therefore the cessation of all attempts to name oneself anything. It is the ending of acquiring status or states of consciousness. It is unknown, nameless, and descriptions, even the most sacred and beautiful ones, all fall pale to the reality of freedom.
To let go of all those stipulated beliefs is a frightening thing, because you then really don’t know what you should do. But on the other side of this fear, is freedom uncontrollable. It is a sense of utter aloneness, because there is no dependence on anything whatsoever. The habitual mind might attempt to find an anchor to stop this uncontrolled reality, but when that attempt is absent, freedom is at the very root of one’s being, quite like the roots of a big tree, the very source of all seeming branches of existence.
What can be said about freedom, except that there is nothing to be said? What can be done about freedom, except that nothing needs to be done? Being absolutely homeless, lack is no more, and the boundless is home.