Ya Shakur

I get jealous. Of so many things! Or so many people.  See, I have many passions and, I guess, still, ambitions, so then when I see an academic or writer or musician or performer or dancer doing something kind of like I would like to, I am jealous.  So there is a lot of opportunity to feel this way.

It is somewhat less intense than when I was younger.  There is a longing to find a better antidote, and maybe I will, but these are the ones I know so far:

Be grateful.

Enjoy what I have.

Enjoy what I am doing.

Enjoy the love with others.

Appreciate what I am doing.

In a way, the last is the hardest, to really feel like what I am doing is ‘enough’.  Of course, this can be while feeling close to the edge of burnout or at least being constantly stretched in motherhood, housework, and trying to do some thesis revisions and small business work.  So there is a pushing and then a ‘never enough’ feeling.

If I was all practical about it, I could see that there will always be others that I could be jealous of.  Actually, there are many, many more artists and academics and writers than I know of, than I could possibly imagine. So I could accept that.

Breathe with that.

I could also accept that this jealousy has been around in my life, and may well for a long time to come.  I hope to keep tempering it, but it may just happen. It is a feeling, a state, a perspective.  Breathe it in and out.

I could also all-practically think that I had such a yearning for motherhood, such a craving and, yes, such jealousy towards others who ‘had’ it, and now here I am.  So I can be grateful.  Breathe in the gratitude.  Know that this is such a gift (this one isn’t hard, I feel this through my days anyway).  Well, sometimes when I am really tired and things seem frustrating it isn’t easy, of course, and that’s all good and real, man.  But I am deeply grateful.  Not that this has to be held up as the pinnacle for women (dear Lordy no), and for some, it is a hugely profound process as well.

I am also keenly aware of ladies who may be yearning for children and for whom it doesn’t happen. Just compassion and love for them, and silence.

Well, that has brought me right down into quiet acceptance.  Thanks, writing.

Maybe some of the constant streams of words that go through my brain as I press buttons on the microwave take the clothes up put the machine on pick her up get the dog will start being typed out. Maybe.

I am grateful.

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