* * *
Sometimes I just try not to think anymore. It helps ease the moment to moment disturbances that stir waters seemingly calm but which conceal deep currents, carrying creatures with potential venom.
At the end of the day one wonders if doing what others want you to do can and will achieve peace -- if you do it to honour family members and such. Or, does the inner voice that oscillates between trepidation, intense interest, passion, passivity need a custom response - sometimes beyond the comprehension of those you love. Does that inner voice take precedence? Or not?
The great women of this faith -- they were living, breathing, human beings who had tendencies that were not flawless. Just the other day, I heard a story about one of the wives of the Prophet, may peace be upon them, who had followed him one day, thinking that he was going to visit another wife and responding to the jealousy that coursed through her. She followed him and found him at the gravesite, praying for the souls of those who had passed away. Without letting on her presence, she returned home quickly, pretending to be asleep when her husband returned. He knew that she had followed him, but played along --- "where were you?" she reportedly asked; one can imagine the wide-eyed innocence."You don't know?" asked the Prophet, likely with his beautiful smile.
Real. Those women were real. Why then, are we expected to be beyond real? To be super-women - responding to house, family and internal struggles with a smile that is as present as the sun in a Southern summer. Clouds are forbidden - a sign of ungratefulness, of course. No chance for exhaustion - because one hardly does what the others do, and if one is exhausted - it is your own fault for trying to do so much. Okay, where's the meat and chicken then? Nothing to show for the coming week's meals, and I was too silly to think to pick it up on the way home. Yeah, okay.
So all of this is about people who expect too much. Perhaps me first, but I can't shake the feeling that others refuse to acknowledge my capacity and instead try to shape me and perhaps others into a mould that was never meant for me.
My eyes droop as I write. I swear I work hard for my family. And I'm sure so do others in it. But why must we participate in a tit-for-tat? Why can't we respect each other's space? Why can't we share successes and failures - mutually, full of support?
I don't know if this is a local - global thing, or just my challenge to solve.
Anyway, I'll think about it later.
