The other day at work, I found myself standing outside by the pond, completely caught up in the beauty of the fish swimming beneath the water. The Koi were huge vibrant shades of orange, white, gold, and black gliding so peacefully through the water like little living paintings. There was something calming about the way they moved. The sunlight reflected off their scales, making them shimmer almost like jewelry beneath the surface. I remember saying to my coworker, “Wow, those are some huge fish in our pond.”
What started as a simple comment turned into one of those conversations that unexpectedly sits with you long after it’s over.
My coworker started talking about how the Koi fish were being “enslaved.” At first, the word caught me off guard. But then he went deeper. He talked about how these fish were trapped in a small man-made pond when naturally they should be in massive bodies of water, surrounded by more life, more freedom, more space to simply exist. He spoke about how restricted they were, and honestly, it ignited something in my mind.
It made me think about how humans take animals out of their natural habitats and normalize it because it benefits us. We place them in cages, tanks, homes, and enclosures, and because we feed them and care for them, we convince ourselves that love somehow replaces freedom.
Then the conversation turned to pets.
I have a little dog at home that I absolutely adore. He’s spoiled rotten. He’s loved deeply. But after that conversation, I started looking at things differently. I started wondering if love alone is enough when something no longer has the freedom to simply be what it naturally is. I thought about how I stop him from rolling around in the grass too long because I don’t want him dirty. How I pull him away from things he’s curious about. How I keep him inside the house for hours while I go to work. And although he has toys, food, water, and daily necessities, I started questioning whether comfort is the same thing as freedom.
When my coworker used the word “enslavement,” it opened a door in my mind that led far beyond animals.
I started thinking about the enslavement of Black people throughout history. The stripping away of identity, culture, freedom, and connection to land and self. I thought about incarceration and how many people are physically confined, separated from their natural environments, families, and communities. I thought about how systems can become so normalized that people stop questioning them altogether.
Then my thoughts drifted back to ordinary people. Zookeepers. Pet owners. Trainers. Everyday people who may genuinely care for animals but still participate in restricting their freedom. And I had to ask myself a difficult question:
Am I any different?
That question sat heavy on my spirit.
We also talked about how humans get angry at animals for behaving naturally. Dogs bark and chew on things, while Cats scratch and meow. Yet we punish them for instincts they were born with because those instincts inconvenience us. We spend so much time trying to domesticate everything around us that we rarely stop to ask whether we are silencing something natural and beautiful in the process.
And honestly, maybe this doesn’t just apply to animals.
Maybe people experience this too.
Maybe society conditions us to suppress parts of ourselves that are natural. To sit still when we need to run. To stay quiet when we need to speak. To disconnect from nature, from community, from spirituality, from freedom itself all in the name of productivity, structure, and survival.
I found myself looking at my dog differently after that conversation. Imagining him alone in the house for eight hours a day while I’m at work. Wondering if he feels trapped. Wondering if he misses the outdoors in ways I can’t understand. Wondering if he sometimes feels disconnected from what is natural to him. And although I give him attention and love, I couldn’t help but wonder if love means less when freedom is missing.
The whole conversation humbled me.
It made me realize how selfish humans can be sometimes. How often we make decisions based on our wants without considering how those choices impact other living beings. We are so used to centering ourselves that we rarely stop to think about what freedom, happiness, or fulfillment might look like from another creature’s perspective.
Standing there by that pond, watching those beautiful Koi glide through the water, I realized that something as simple as observing fish can turn into a reflection about humanity, control, compassion, and freedom.
And maybe that’s the lesson.
Maybe life is asking us to become more aware not just of how we love, but how we limit. Not just of how we care, but how we control. Maybe true compassion requires us to think beyond our own comfort and question the systems, behaviors, and habits we have normalized for so long.
I still think those fish were beautiful.
But now, when I look at them, I don’t just see beauty anymore.
I also see the question of freedom swimming quietly beneath the surface.
Thank you, Justin for a humbling casual conversation.