You wake up. Check your phone. Messages from work. Emails that need replies. A meeting you can’t skip. Bills that need paying. People depending on you. Obligations stacked like blocks, and if you pull one out, something collapses.
When did this happen?
You used to have choices. You used to say no. You used to imagine possibilities that didn’t require permission from six different people and three institutions.
Now? You’re locked in. Not by chains. By connections. By the very things that were supposed to make life easier—the job, the relationships, the systems you plugged yourself into.
Where did your freedom go?
Let me show you.
The Strut
Imagine a bridge. Strong, functional, spanning distance. Look closer at its structure—see those diagonal pieces holding the whole thing together? Those are struts. Each one locked in place, pressure from both ends, keeping everything stable.
That’s you.
You’re a strut in a network.
You have a role. Maybe it’s employee, parent, partner, citizen, borrower, provider. The role has a name, job description, expectations.
Support comes from all sides. Your employer gives you salary. Your partner gives you emotional stability. Your community gives you belonging. Your government gives you infrastructure. The bank gives you credit.
And in return? You give back. You perform. You show up. You deliver. You maintain your end of the connections.
This is the trade: You give up freedom. You get stability and support.
You can’t just leave your job tomorrow—mortgage depends on it. Can’t skip family obligations—relationships depend on you showing up. Can’t ignore laws—society’s structure depends on compliance. Can’t default on debts—financial system depends on everyone paying.
Each connection is both a support and a constraint. The more connections you have, the more stable you are—and the less free.
You’re not dispensable in the sense that the network doesn’t need you. You are dispensable in that the network will find another strut if you break. But while you’re in position, you matter. The whole structure depends on you holding your place.
And here’s what’s strange: Your power in this system is about staying steady. Unshakeable. Reliable.
Not about movement. Not about choice. About being exactly where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you’re supposed to do, absorbing pressure from all sides without buckling.
That’s modern life. That’s what it means to be organized. That’s what happened to your freedom—you traded it, piece by piece, for the support that keeps you standing.
The Lone Person
Now imagine someone else. Completely alone.
Not lonely. Not isolated by circumstance. But genuinely self-reliant. Living outside the network, or at least attempting it.
This person wakes up and performs all ten acts by themselves:
LEARN – They observe their environment directly. No news feed curating reality. No experts telling them what to think. Just raw information from the world around them.
SEEK – They identify what they need. Food. Shelter. Warmth. Knowledge. No algorithm suggesting wants. Just actual needs.
ACQUIRE – They hunt, gather, build, create what they need. No salary converting time into purchasing power. Just direct acquisition of resources.
SECURE – They protect what they have. No police, no insurance, no legal system. Just their own capacity to defend and preserve.
CLEAN – They remove what they don’t want. Waste, danger, clutter. No sanitation department. Just their own maintenance of their space.
CONSUME – They eat what they acquired. Drink what they secured. Use what they built. Direct consumption, no supply chain.
SHARE – Even alone, they share with their future self. Store food. Create knowledge. Leave traces. Or share with the few they choose to connect with, not out of obligation but genuine exchange.
COMMUNE – They connect with themselves. With nature. With whatever they consider greater than themselves. Not forced social performance. Just authentic connection.
ENTERTAIN – They create their own amusement. Watch the sunset. Play with ideas. Experience wonder without screens or schedules.
REST – They stop when tired. No alarm clock dictated by someone else’s schedule. Just natural rhythm.
This is exhausting to even read, isn’t it?
Because you realize: that’s a lot of work. A lot of skill. A lot of risk. A lot of constant attention.
The lone person has complete freedom. And complete responsibility. No support from anywhere. No one to blame if things go wrong. No safety net.
Most people would break under this. Modern humans aren’t built for it anymore. We’ve specialized. We’ve optimized. We’ve traded competence for convenience.
And that trade made sense. The network is efficient. Division of labor works. Specialization creates abundance.
But here’s what we lost sight of: The lone person who survived that experience carries something the strut doesn’t have.
What Changes
The lone person—even just for a season, a year, a brief period—learns what support actually costs. What it’s worth. What it’s replacing.
When they rejoin the network, when they become a strut again, they’re different.
They’re grateful.
Not in some shallow thankful way. But in a bone-deep understanding that every connection supporting them is replacing an act they’d otherwise have to perform alone. The salary replaces hunting. The community replaces self-defense. The infrastructure replaces building from scratch.
They’re steady.
Not because they’re trapped and have no choice. But because they know they could leave if they had to. They’ve done it. They survived it. The network doesn’t own them—they’re choosing to participate.
They’re powerful.
Real power. Not the fake power of a title or position. But the power of knowing: “If this all collapses tomorrow, I’ll figure it out. I’ve done harder.”
The strut who’s never been alone is desperate. Every obligation feels like a threat. Every demand feels like oppression. They resent the network because they don’t know what it’s protecting them from.
But the strut who’s lived alone? They understand the trade. They know what they gave up, and they know what they got. And most importantly—they know they can make a different trade anytime they want.
That’s freedom.
Not the absence of obligations. But the knowledge that you’re capable of meeting your own needs if you have to.
The Modern Trap
Here’s the problem with modern life: we’ve created a system so good at support, so efficient at meeting needs, that people never experience self-reliance.
You’re born into a family network. You grow up in an education network. You enter a career network. You build a social network. You never stop being a strut.
And because you never stop, you never learn what you’re capable of. You never test yourself against actual survival. You never perform all ten acts alone.
So the support feels like oppression. The obligations feel like chains. The responsibilities feel like burdens.
You say you want freedom, but you have no idea what you’re asking for. You’ve never experienced the terror and exhilaration of being completely responsible for your own survival.
And without that experience, you’ll always feel trapped. Always resentful. Always wondering where your freedom went.
It didn’t go anywhere. You traded it. But you never knew what you were trading.
What You Can Do
I’m not telling you to become a hermit. I’m not saying abandon your job, your family, your life.
But I am suggesting: test yourself.
Do something alone that requires you to perform the acts yourself. Not all of them. Not forever. But enough to remember what support is replacing.
Travel somewhere alone. Not a resort. Somewhere you have to figure things out.
Build something from scratch. Acquire your own materials. Create with your own hands. No instructions. No help.
Grow your own food for a season. Just a garden. Learn what ACQUIRE really means when there’s no grocery store.
Spend time genuinely alone. Not lonely scrolling through phones. Alone with yourself, your thoughts, silence. Learn what COMMUNE means when there’s no one else.
The point isn’t to prove you can survive without the network. You probably can’t, not long-term, not comfortably.
The point is to know what the network is giving you. To understand the trade you’re making. To choose your strut position consciously instead of sleepwalking into it.
The Clarity
Your freedom didn’t disappear. You traded it for support. And that trade is neither good nor bad—it just is.
But here’s what matters: Are you a conscious strut or a trapped one?
The conscious strut knows what they’re doing. They’ve experienced enough self-reliance to understand what each connection is worth. They’re grateful for the support. They’re steady in their role because they know they could leave if needed. They have real power—not from their position, but from their capacity.
The trapped strut has no reference point. They’ve never been alone. They don’t know what the network is protecting them from. So every obligation feels like oppression. Every responsibility feels like a burden. They resent the very things keeping them stable.
Same role. Completely different experience.
The difference isn’t the structure. It’s whether you know you chose it. Whether you understand the trade. Whether you’ve tested yourself enough to know: “I can do hard things alone. I’m choosing this support because it’s worth it, not because I have no other option.”
That’s where your freedom went. Into the network. In exchange for stability, support, and the ability to specialize instead of doing everything yourself.
But you get to decide: Are you a grateful strut who understands the trade, or a resentful one who feels trapped?
The network doesn’t change. Your obligations don’t disappear. The pressure from all sides stays the same.
What changes is whether you know you’re capable of standing alone if you have to.
And once you know that—really know it, not just believe it—everything shifts.
You’re still a strut. But you’re a strut by choice. And that makes all the difference.
Thoughts on this? Questions? Something you’re seeing in your own life?