Saturday, June 7, 2008

Is Happiness a Frill?

What if I really don't know how to make myself happy? What if all the years of believing, for one reason or another, that my happiness is a frivolous, selfish concern because my duty outranks everything?

I am seeing Hillary swallow the bitter pill I have tasted myself. You work hard. You learn to gracefully maneuver around lesser talented males and not piss them off in the process. You get a good education. You pay your dues. You raise your kids, you raise your husband. You build a career. You suffer a lot of rejection (I'd love to know the comparison between how much rejection professional women absorb vs men) some of which you can't figure out because it doesn't seem to based on merit. You learn to raise money...big money. You've done everything in your power. You followed the plan to a T. And in the end, you are left standing with nothing.

I am thunderstruck that the Democratic Party have floated Caroline Kennedy's name as Obama's running mate.

So, all that duty, all that striving, all that work -- does any of it translate into happiness? Did Hillary "enjoy" the process? Because it seems to me, that part of her problem was a lack of authenticity. A lack of passion. Buried in there someplace, I wonder if she really wanted it. Had she become so disconnected from her understanding of what makes her truly happy that she became plastic? And is this a common pitfall for women? Do we, over time, get so bogged down and so confused by having to jigger the system, that our energy gets wasted when we could be using it to create our own happiness? But we don't realize it. We are too busy struggling to wedge our foot in the door to look up and realize, it's not the right address. It doesn't house our happiness.

1 comment :

Mother Earth said...

wow pat, what a thought provoking post - i look at the hilary's of the world and find they are pretty automated, they are a machine turned on in the morning, and praying that the engine doesn't die. What if car or a computer or a blender had a heart? It doesn't because it's a machine. It might do a great job. Might make a mean margarita. In the end it's just an appliance,a means to get somewhere, a place that holds stuff.

I wonder where does the heart go when a person becomes a machine. At the end of the day does it beat on it's own and remind us to be human again? Did she want it? I think she was an example. A taste. I don't think she was the right female vehicle, but I am glad she started the machinery for others to step up. She did it because she could.

For me I want to feel that at the end of my days I left an impression somehow. A footprint that says hey mother earth was here. She made a difference.

You my dear have some pretty impressive footprints on this planet, and have deeply touched the hearts of many. This is not nothing. Your work is at the beginning of its ebb - it's flow will take you I feel to places you have yet to imagine