Sunday, March 26, 2017

Eat, Pray, Love

This week I came across this article. It talks about being ok with a 'mediocre' life. About giving up the endless, noisy, loud pursuit for some ideal life that we believe will make us permanently happy, like Paradise island. Like some Disney movie. However, it can take us decades to realize that it is an ideal only, that it does not really exist. That it is fiction. A dream, a destination, where we believe we can arrive at and be permanently happy. It's like more this permanent carrot on the stick. Santa Claus for grown-ups.

But for a while, we do believe it. Social media, media, books, movies, society seem to reinforce it: others get there, look at their houses, bodies, glamorous lives, cute kids and hunky husbands, I want this, too! Yes, social media seems to reinforce it, but in the end, it is me who chooses to believe it, to reinforce my own beliefs and 'dreams'. So, I keep chasing, set new goals, and desire new experiences.

It can take a very long time to debunk the myth. Because first we have to 'get there'. Then we can figure out, well, it's not what I thought what it would be. Often, the happiness we do feel is more one of relief when we cross the finish line. The relief of being done with a potentially exhausting, painful experience, but we rewrite the feeling as "accomplishment", we say "hey, I did this!". Relief can feel almost like joy.

But the feeling is short lived and soon, when the party has cleared and the confetti has been swept, and the rush is over, everything feels just like before. It can even feel worse as Andie Mitchell describes vividly in her memoir "It was me all along": she felt as unhappy if not more after she lost over hundred pounds. She was even more depressed than before because her carrot was gone.

We can get addicted to this feeling, of setting a goal, busying ourselves to achieve it, and give ourselves a high five. We can easily spend 20-30 years chasing various things, age appropriate, that we think will make us happy, only to wake up to the realization "but it is never enough, I constantly need to repeat it or find a new destination."

It reminds me of this scene in the movie "Eat, pray, love", when Julia Roberts sits in an Italian hairdresser shop, and two Italian men discuss the cultural differences between Americans and Italians. They assess that Americans worship work and chasing dreams, maybe, the American Dream, while Italians worship living. That Italians feel entitled to a 'break', and copiously enjoy the Dolce Far Niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. Or better, the sweetness of not accomplishing, needing or chasing anything.


Wise words. This brings me back to the original blog post. Of the woman who says "But what if I just don’t have it in me. What if all the striving for excellence leaves me sad, worn out, depleted? Drained of joy. Am I simply not enough?"

"What if I never really amount to anything when I grow up—beyond mom and sister and wife?"

"What if I don’t want to write a cookbook or build a six figure business or speak before thousands? But I write because I have something to say and I invest in a small community of women I care about and encourage them to love and care for themselves well."

"What if I just accept this mediocre body of mine that is neither big nor small? Just in between. And I embrace that I have no desire to work for rock hard abs or 18% body fat. And I make peace with it and decide that when I lie on my deathbed I will never regret having just been me. Take me or leave me."

"What if I am not cut out for the frantic pace of this society and cannot even begin to keep up? And see so many others with what appears to be boundless energy and stamina but know that I need tons of solitude and calm, an abundance of rest, and swaths of unscheduled time in order to be healthy. Body, spirit, soul healthy. Am I enough?"

I believe that yes, she is enough, that her life is enough. My own life is enough, the here and now, the today, the who I am, my own life. Because, that is all there is, all there ever will be for me. All that really matters. And that all happiness is contained in it. But also, that it is normal and human to experience bumps in the road. That is just part of the human experience.

However, there are way too many images around today. We start comparing, and our life seems to come up 'short'. We don't explain to ourselves of how these images (or today reality tv) are created. We subconsciously react to the flawless face of Khloe Kardashian (and don't see that all Kardashian sit in hair and makeup for hours for a shoot). We see their vast houses, groomed gardens, large pools shot in a panoramic view  (and don't see they spend plenty of disposal income on cleaning personnel, and gardeners to set this up for a shoot). We see perfectly plated dishes (and don't realize it is done by a professional food stylist). This is fake, this is not everyday life, this is a movie set. Still, we might assume that our lives should be similarly 'perfect'. If not, we must be doing something wrong. Depending on our psychological make-up, we might feel defeated, or blame someone, or hate on the things we see or scurry like a rabbit to recreate it.

So, yes, it seems we can't really keep up. But keeping up with what, exactly? A movie set?

We don't get to see smelly diapers, although there are plenty of young children, or sleepless nights and bags under the eyes, or dirty clothes piles, or even an interaction with a house cleaner. It is all carefully edited out. There is not a lot of reality in this reality tv. Or instagram feed. 
 In the end, we only have one thing: our own life, and it is enough, it likely is enough, if we stop comparing it with movie sets, carefully groomed blogs or instagram feeds. If we stop making "wish lists", because wish lists make us focus on what is not there, instead of the things we have. 

If we just tap into the fullness of our own lives, right here, right now, right in front of us.

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