You know the movie Frozen, the animated film by Disney? I love it. I love the original, the sequel and the shorts. I think I love it more than my 9 year old. It was a refreshing addition to Disney's catalog. I'm now rewatching and introducing my toddler nephew to the ice cold, Nordic universe. To the bright eyed kids who you cannot pry away from the TV, it's a funny, engaging and infectious sing along with a kaleidoscope of characters, but to adults, the message can be so deep.
My daughter has to shush me from singing the songs not only because of the quality of my voice, but because of how often she has to hear "Ah-ah-ah-ah".What she doesn't realise is that I'm singing them as empowering messages for myself.
We all know the famous "Let It Go" from the first film. Like Elsa, many of us grew up in a box, shaped by society and dare we not conform to said box, something is wrong with us. We are outcasts, a disgrace to society and the earth will open up and swallow us. We are square pegs in round holes, losing pieces of ourselves or packing on fake layers just to conform.
A bit dramatic, but you know it's true.
The song "Let It Go" shows us when Elsa broke out of her box and literally created her own castle where she could be who she wanted to be. By the end of the movie, she embraced her differences, society embraced her differences and she was somewhat free.
But what happens when you think you are free to be who you are, but turns out that you don't really know who you are and what you were meant for? For Elsa, the answer went wayyy beyond society. She had a much bigger purpose. Turns out she was a spirit born to unite other spirits in the universe. Wow.
She traveled to a far away land to find the answer. The song "Show Yourself" from the 2nd film explores when she finds her place in the universe. Elsa was looking for answers to who she really is, what made her different and special and she found that. She found her true purpose.
So although my daughter just thinks that I'm annoying, when I sing "Show Yourself', that's me beckoning my purpose to reveal itself to me.
Unlike Elsa, we don't have to travel to a far away land to find our place in the universe. The answer is within us. We just have to look deep within ourselves and ask for divine guidance. Who knows? Our uniqueness could make us very powerful human beings with a universal purpose.
So are you living inside a box? How about if we start by first letting go of the things that confine us and free ourselves from the boxes that we've been forced into. Go ahead, break the rules. Show society the real you and if they don't accept you, screw them... Create your own castle where you can be one with the universe. Block out society, look within yourself and to the universe to find out who you were meant to be.
And how do you truly break free from the things confining you to the box? Think about the biggest tie that Elsa had to her kingdom. The one thing that she knew she had to give up to be truly free.
That's right. Her Crown.
So what is the strongest chain that is linking you to your box? If you truly want to be free, are you prepared to break the connection, give it up and be who you were meant to be?
About the Creator
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Ezomindus
In a valley where silence grew like silver grass, And the mountains seemed to hold their breath, There lived a soul whose name no map could claim—Ezomindus. He was no king of armies, no lord of stone halls, But a traveler of thought, a seeker of questions, A spark that refused to bow to fear or certainty. Ezomindus was born on a night When the moon hung low, swollen with mystery, And the wind whispered secrets through the cracks of the world. The elders, wise yet fearful, said, “This child will wander paths unknown, And his thoughts may burn like fire.” The stars, however, had their own counsel: “This child will wonder, And in his wondering, awaken others.” From his first breath, he listened—not just to people, But to the heartbeat beneath the soil, The rhythm of rivers carving their patient paths, The quiet ache of shadows folding over themselves. He heard the sorrow hidden inside laughter, The longing beneath simple words, The unspoken truths between two people’s eyes. While the villages built houses of brick and pride, Ezomindus built bridges of questions. “Why does the river never hold its shape?” he asked. “Why does the flame dance even as it dies?” “Why does the heart ache for what it cannot name?” His questions were neither rude nor loud; They were gentle arrows of thought, Piercing the illusions of routine and comfort. He wandered through forests older than memory, Where trees leaned close as if to hear him think. Roots twisted like ancient riddles, Leaves shimmered with the dust of forgotten stars. “Everything changes,” the trees whispered, “Even the one who asks.” Ezomindus was not afraid of change. He feared the stillness that numbed the mind. He saw cities wrapped in golden noise, People chasing shadows of approval, Running toward mirrors that reflected only themselves. He whispered to them softly, “Your chains are not iron—they are thoughts You never dared to examine.” Some laughed. Some scowled. Some left. A few felt something stir inside, A small trembling recognition of a mind not yet free. He carried no sword, yet battled storms of doubt. He climbed mountains that seemed to pierce the sky, Where air thinned into honesty, And only the purest thoughts could survive. At the summit, there was no throne, No crown, no prize—only a mirror of ice. In that mirror, he saw himself Not as hero nor as failure, But as a river of becoming. His courage and his fear flowed together, His wounds glimmered like constellations, His mind stretched out like the horizon itself. He understood at last: To conquer the world is smaller than conquering the mind. So he descended, carrying no gold, No trophies, no scrolls of fame, Only awareness. He spoke in marketplaces, empty fields, In the hush of midnight and the blaze of noon. “Do not fear the darkness,” he said. “It is the canvas upon which your light can paint.” As years passed, Ezomindus did not grow old in spirit. His eyes remained young with curiosity, His voice tender with truth. Children gathered around him, Drawn to the way he asked questions Instead of offering answers. “What is strength?” one child asked. He smiled and replied, “Strength is choosing truth Even when lies are easier, Even when the world calls for silence.” “What is freedom?” another asked. He touched the soil, the roots, the wind. “Freedom,” he said softly, “Is seeing your own thoughts Without becoming their prisoner.” “And what is love?” they asked. He paused, feeling the wind trace his weathered face. “Love,” he said, “Is the courage to let another soul breathe, To honor their mind as you honor your own, To walk beside them without claiming their journey.” Ezomindus became a legend, Not of battles won or lands conquered, But of minds awakened. He did not build empires of stone; He built awakenings, Invisible yet eternal, A revolution of thought, quiet yet unstoppable. When his final evening came, The sky blazed in amber farewell, And the valley seemed to lean closer in sorrow. He lay beneath the same moon That had watched his first breath. Around him stood those Who had once been lost in noise, Now awake to the rhythm of their own hearts. “Master,” they whispered, “What remains when you are gone?” Ezomindus looked at them, At their trembling hope, At their eyes opening wide to their own truths. “I remain,” he said, “In every thought you dare to examine, In every fear you face with courage, In every moment you wake instead of drift asleep.” His breath faded like a candle surrendering to dawn, Yet the valley did not grow silent. It hummed with awareness, Alive with the minds he had stirred. Ezomindus was never a body— He was a question set on fire, A space between impulse and reflection, A courage to look within. He was the whisper that said: Do not live asleep. Do not fear the depths of your own mind. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted realm Of your own consciousness. Long after, children would trace his steps in the forest, Listening to the trees, to the rivers, Learning to see the unseen. They carried no scrolls, no crowns, Only the seed of questioning he had planted, A spark that refused to die. And so Ezomindus lives, Not in stone or story, But in every mind that dares to pause, Every heart that dares to reflect, Every soul that refuses to sleep While the world drifts blindly onward. For life is fleeting, And the noise of the world can drown the quiet, But the mind that awakens is eternal. Ezomindus taught this: To live is to be aware, To be aware is to be free, To be free is to walk the endless path Of truth, courage, and love. And somewhere, when the wind bends the silver grass And the moon hangs low like a question, A voice stirs inside the restless heart: “Do not live asleep. Do not fear your own depths. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted Realm of your own mind.” Ezomindus is not gone— He is the question set on fire, The mind that will not sleep, The whisper inside every heart That chooses awareness over comfort, Courage over fear, Truth over illusion. And the valley, ever alive, Breathes on, Shimmering with the light of a mind awake.
By The best writer about 4 hours ago in Motivation
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