Walking through my neighborhood farmer’s market today, I found myself wishing for another life. A life that looked more like what I envisioned for myself when I was in my twenties. Yes, I do live in the greater metropolitan area known as Los Angeles. However I ended up landing in a home in one of the most idyllic neighborhoods known to man – The Pacific Palisades. Imagine Wisteria Lane, only more picturesque. Beautiful homes, perfectly manicured lawns with fragrant flowers, surrounded by the mountains of Temescal and Topanga Canyons, and ocean views. A neighborhood filled with children and families and large bank accounts. A reminder of everything I don’t have.
I didn’t roam around that Farmer’s Market with people like me – older, single creative types that have dedicated their lives to pursue passions and truth. I’m not saying the lady next to me perusing bunches of broccoli and strawberries hasn’t done some soul searching, but it’s unlikely if you’ve got a family to care for and what I can only assume are high bills to pay, you’re not taking weeks off to travel to India, live in ashrams or sit and type out pages of emotional analytics. No, there’s no time for that shit. A large part of me envies that. I sometimes wish I didn’t have so much freedom to do whatever the hell I want.
I found myself down on the Pali High School track, watching young, tan, fit men chuck a Frisbee around. I longed for the days of my youth. To turn back the clock and maybe choose a different path. Make different choices. As I made my laps around the field, I knew in my heart, I didn’t have that choice. My destiny has already been written out for me. It is my duty to follow it. I wept anyway. Especially at the sight of a Father running, racing his little girl. Something in my heart broke. It was a deep longing for a family that I may never have. The grief over a loss of something I didn’t even know I could even want. The desire for a ‘normal’ life.
I’m not naïve in thinking these people live in perfection. I know all life comes with struggle, conflict, sacrifice and loss. And I’m sure plenty of them wish they were in my shoes from time to time. But for the time being, and maybe just today, I wish I were in theirs.
June 2, 2017 at 6:38 am
Dear Jennifer, I read your article just before going to sleep and was deeply touched. …Your words brought such a resonance. I saw myself in you, felt myself reading your words…In Melbourne I had a similar experience: living in a paradisiac, idyllic area filled with beautiful parks and romantic beaches where children and families “with large bank accounts” spent their free time together. And just like you I had a daily reminder of this family life that I do not have. And just like you I sometimes wished I had a different life, one “that looked more like what I envisioned for myself when I was in my twenties.”… Well, that is a reality. My life as a travelling yogini life is exciting and rich and sometimes, and yes, sometimes I miss having a family…what to do? Practice Santosha, contentment? “want what you have and you will have what you want”…Yes. I can love myself and accept my life how it is while staying open to its mysteries …I trust that Life has a bunch of great surprises for us!! Let’s be careful of what we wish, because it can actually happen. And also this. Not sure if I shared this with you – during my 15 months in Australia for the sake of “having a family” some day I have overstayed in an abusive relationship… So now that I am back to myself, safe and whole again I cherish my life and fill it with daily self-respect and appreciation. Who knows which drama occur everyday in families and couples from which we only see the outside?… We, sister, can love ourselves even more for our bravery, humility, authenticity, out of the beatn tracks life… and for the courage to admit that our life is not perfect…and still, loving what we have. Thanks so much Jen for your sharing. I love you sister!!
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June 2, 2017 at 5:19 pm
So glad it resonated with you. Sending love across the miles. xx
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July 9, 2017 at 3:00 pm
Good article
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