The Uncomfortable Question.
Dear Mal,
I'm writing this on my phone while laying on my couch. It's the first 10 minutes of silence I've had all week. Even despite the business of motherhood, I always have a lot on my mind. For the past year of my life, I often come back to the same question: With all the suffering that always exists in the world, am I allowed to be totally happy?
I have a memory from my childhood of being in my backyard. I would jump on my trampoline, feel the blood pumping through my veins, and the breath coming and going from my lungs, and I would stare at the blue evening summer sky. I would think "This must be what heaven is like." Moments like this happened to me all the time. Thinking about it, I could follow those same steps now, and probably really enjoy myself. Yet for me, at least at this point in my life, it would probably be somewhat tainted by the bitterness in the world that my adult self has tasted.
I get so frustrated, I want to help, I want to connect with people about meaningful things, I want to change the world, really. But I'm busy doing the things that mothers do. The funny thing is, I don't mind doing most of these things. I think there can be joy in cooking a delicious and fresh meal, then eating it with your adorable little family. I kind of like folding laundry while listening to one of my many favorite podcasts. So I guess my problem is, I feel like if there are people suffering in the world, I should be trying to do something about it. So I feel guilty for not living in poverty? For being white? For being educated? But what do I do? I'm passionate about too many different causes to even try to pick one. Usually, I lack the will, courage, or simply energy to do anything beyond my small circle of family and friends. But there is this huge part of me that is not ok with that.
So I guess I'm writing to you about it, because I know you care about a lot of the same things I do, and I know you care abut me. So as an outsider to the brain of Meg, am I crazy? Am I wanting to bite off more than I could realistically chew? (Let's be honest, if we were speaking literally, I'm kind of a bottomless pit).
I want to live a life that is mindful and that sucks the marrow out of the small beautiful moments. But I want everyone to be able to do the same. So how can I help? The answers of my youth like "Be a good mom, be kind, be a good friend etc," don't satisfy my demanding conscience any more. Maybe if we were hiking around Jenny Lake in Grand Teton, the answer would be more clear to me.
Anyway, I miss you as always and thank you for being there and listening.
Love,
Meg
Edit/addition: I found this quote in a book I'm reading by Richard Rohr, and I think it gets to the heart of my question. "Humans find it easier to gather their energy around death, pain, and problems than around joy. I know I do. For some sad reason, it is joy that we hold lightly and victimhood that we grab onto."
So I guess that's a lot of food for thought for me.
I'm writing this on my phone while laying on my couch. It's the first 10 minutes of silence I've had all week. Even despite the business of motherhood, I always have a lot on my mind. For the past year of my life, I often come back to the same question: With all the suffering that always exists in the world, am I allowed to be totally happy?
I have a memory from my childhood of being in my backyard. I would jump on my trampoline, feel the blood pumping through my veins, and the breath coming and going from my lungs, and I would stare at the blue evening summer sky. I would think "This must be what heaven is like." Moments like this happened to me all the time. Thinking about it, I could follow those same steps now, and probably really enjoy myself. Yet for me, at least at this point in my life, it would probably be somewhat tainted by the bitterness in the world that my adult self has tasted.
I get so frustrated, I want to help, I want to connect with people about meaningful things, I want to change the world, really. But I'm busy doing the things that mothers do. The funny thing is, I don't mind doing most of these things. I think there can be joy in cooking a delicious and fresh meal, then eating it with your adorable little family. I kind of like folding laundry while listening to one of my many favorite podcasts. So I guess my problem is, I feel like if there are people suffering in the world, I should be trying to do something about it. So I feel guilty for not living in poverty? For being white? For being educated? But what do I do? I'm passionate about too many different causes to even try to pick one. Usually, I lack the will, courage, or simply energy to do anything beyond my small circle of family and friends. But there is this huge part of me that is not ok with that.
So I guess I'm writing to you about it, because I know you care about a lot of the same things I do, and I know you care abut me. So as an outsider to the brain of Meg, am I crazy? Am I wanting to bite off more than I could realistically chew? (Let's be honest, if we were speaking literally, I'm kind of a bottomless pit).
I want to live a life that is mindful and that sucks the marrow out of the small beautiful moments. But I want everyone to be able to do the same. So how can I help? The answers of my youth like "Be a good mom, be kind, be a good friend etc," don't satisfy my demanding conscience any more. Maybe if we were hiking around Jenny Lake in Grand Teton, the answer would be more clear to me.
Anyway, I miss you as always and thank you for being there and listening.
Love,
Meg
Edit/addition: I found this quote in a book I'm reading by Richard Rohr, and I think it gets to the heart of my question. "Humans find it easier to gather their energy around death, pain, and problems than around joy. I know I do. For some sad reason, it is joy that we hold lightly and victimhood that we grab onto."
So I guess that's a lot of food for thought for me.
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