I had fought for my independence and fought for my freedom to do

“I had fought for my independence and fought for my freedom to do as I chose.” Thus spoke Kris Kristofferson, a poet-warrior of the modern age, whose words carry the weight of a thousand unseen battles. In them lives the eternal cry of the human spirit — the yearning to live by one’s own light, unshackled by the chains of expectation or fear. To fight for independence is not only to stand against oppression from others, but also to conquer the quiet tyrannies within oneself — doubt, conformity, and the need for approval. His words remind us that the greatest revolutions often begin not in the streets, but in the soul.

In his youth, Kristofferson walked a path carved by discipline and destiny. He was a scholar of letters at Oxford, a soldier trained for order and obedience, a man bound by duty and promise. Yet beneath that uniform beat the heart of a songwriter, restless and untamed. He left behind the comfort of security — cast away his career, his family’s expectations, and all the certainties that men are taught to cling to — and chose instead the uncertain road of music. He swept floors as a janitor at a recording studio, slept in the back of a truck, and gambled everything on the voice that sang inside him. That was his fight for freedom — not against an empire of men, but against the empire of fear that rules most lives.

To the ancients, such courage was the mark of a hero — not because he conquered others, but because he conquered himself. The Greeks called it arete, the excellence of the soul that dares to fulfill its nature. The samurai called it bushidō, the way of honor that demands loyalty to one’s own truth. And every age, every land, has known such spirits — those who refused to live as slaves to comfort, who bore the pain of loneliness and failure to claim the crown of selfhood. For freedom to do as one chooses is never freely given; it must be earned through the discipline of defiance, and the willingness to pay the price of authenticity.

Consider the life of Vincent van Gogh, who also fought his own battle for creative independence. Scorned by his peers, plagued by poverty and despair, he painted in colors that the world did not yet understand. He died believing himself a failure, yet his art outlived the century, blazing with the fire of a soul that refused to bend. Van Gogh, like Kristofferson, teaches us this: that freedom may lead through darkness, but it is better to walk in one’s own shadow than bask in the borrowed light of others.

And yet, this fight for freedom is not without its sorrow. For every man who follows his truth must leave behind something — the comfort of belonging, the safety of certainty, the applause of the crowd. Independence is a lonely crown, heavy with the weight of choice. But therein lies its nobility. To choose your own path, even if it leads through struggle, is to live as the gods intended — with courage, with passion, and with honor.

The meaning of Kristofferson’s words, then, is not merely personal but universal. Each soul must, at some point, face the crossroads between obedience and authenticity. To live as another’s echo is easy; to live as your own voice is hard. But those who take up this sacred struggle — the fight for independence, the fight for freedom — find a peace that no power can grant or take away. For the truest liberty is not the absence of chains, but the mastery of the will.

Let this be the teaching passed down: if you would live freely, first know yourself — then be brave enough to honor what you find. Question what the world tells you to be, and choose instead what your heart knows to be true. Be prepared to lose comfort, to face rejection, to endure solitude. But never surrender the right to be your own master.

For in the end, to fight for your independence is to become fully alive. It is to awaken the sleeping giant within — the soul that refuses to live half a life. And when you have fought and won that battle, you will know the deepest of freedoms: not to do as others expect, but to do as you choose, and in doing so, to walk the path of those who have made the world more honest, more beautiful, and more free.