Freedom and Famine
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Freedom is an interesting thing, isn’t it? We talk about it as though it’s the ultimate goal, the answer to all our struggles. But here’s the thing: you can be free and still feel completely empty. I’m not talking about a growling stomach. This hunger is deeper it gnaws at your heart, your mind, and your spirit. It’s that ache we try to ignore but can’t quite shake.
I’ve been there. I’ve chased after things I thought would fill me up: shiny gadgets, fleeting moments of success, or even a little attention from people I barely liked. It’s like craving a home-cooked meal but settling for a vending machine snack cheap, quick, and utterly unsatisfying.
My grandmother Celestine, in her infinite wisdom, always knew how to cut through the nonsense. She’d say, “Baby, don’t go filling up on crumbs when the Creator’s got a whole feast waiting for you. Stop messing around with scraps.” And she’d say it with such conviction that I’d feel a little embarrassed but also seen.
Now, if you’d told me that a few years ago, I might’ve laughed it off. I thought I had it all figured out. I mean, freedom means you can do whatever you want, right? But freedom without substance is just a fancy cage. You’re moving around, sure, but you’re still trapped by your own emptiness.
One time, I learned this the hard way and in the most awkward fashion. Picture this: a family get together, everyone dressed up, laughter echoing through the air. I decided to stand up and say something. I was aiming for profound, maybe even poetic. But instead, my nerves got the best of me, and out came, “Here’s to blessings, like American Online and...uh... Aunt Rita potato salad.” The room went silent before bursting into laughter. Not exactly my finest moment. But that’s when it hit me: I was trying to look full, to appear like I had everything together, while my insides were running on empty.
It’s a common trap, isn’t it? We put on a show, convincing others and ourselves that we’re fine, all while ignoring the gnawing hunger in our soul. But the truth is, we’ve gotten so used to feeding on fluff that we don’t even recognize real nourishment when it’s offered.
When’s the last time you truly felt full not from a plate of food but from something deeper? Maybe it was a quiet moment of connection with someone who understood you without words. Or maybe it was a stillness so profound you couldn’t help but feel the Creator’s presence. Those moments don’t come from chasing what the world offers. They come from something real, something eternal.
Grandma Celestine had a way of explaining this. She’d say, “You can’t feed your spirit with junk and expect to feel alive. Junk’s easy. Real food takes effort.” And let me tell you, she wasn’t just talking about what’s on your plate.
It’s funny how we’ll work so hard for things that leave us hungry. We’ll stay up late, stressing over jobs, relationships, or social media likes, and call it ambition. But the Creator’s provisions? They’re right there, waiting, and we act like they’re hard to get.
I remember one night when life felt like too much. I was exhausted physically, emotionally, spiritually. Standing under the stars, I mumbled the simplest of prayers: Help me. I need something real. The response didn’t come as a thunderclap or an angelic choir. It was a whisper, quiet and clear: You’ve been feeding on the wrong things.
That whisper turned my world upside down. I realized I’d been chasing quick fixes, filling myself with things that faded as quickly as they came. The Creator wasn’t withholding anything I just hadn’t made room for what truly mattered.
And here’s the kicker: it’s not just about our connection with the Creator. It’s about how we show up for each other. How many times have you walked past someone who was clearly starving not for food, but for kindness, patience, or understanding? We’ve all been so caught up in our own struggles that we forget we’re meant to feed each other, too.
Grandma Celestine didn’t pull punches on this one. She’d say, “You think you’re the only one hungry? Feed your spirit right so you don’t pass your famine on to someone else.” It stung, but she was spot on.
The beauty of all this? The famine we feel isn’t forever. The Creator’s table is always set, and it’s overflowing. Grace, love, peace they’re all there, waiting for us to take a seat. But here’s the deal: we’ve got to stop nibbling on spiritual fast food and show up for the real meal.
Imagine a world where we fed each other the way the Creator feeds us with compassion, honesty, and abundance. A world where no one had to starve for connection or love. It starts with recognizing our own hunger and doing the hard, holy work of seeking what truly satisfies.
So, what are you feeding yourself? Is it nourishing, or just filling the silence? The Creator’s provisions aren’t flashy, but they’re exactly what you need. And when you start partaking in what’s real, you won’t just feel full you’ll feel alive.
As Grandma Celestine would say with a sly smile, “You’re free to choose, baby. Just make sure you don’t mistake crumbs for a feast.”
The table’s ready. The feast is waiting. You just have to pull up a chair.
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