I cut myself an oversize piece of infatuation cake and prepared to indulge. But before I was going to rub its sweet contents all over my naked body, I reasoned it was best eaten very slowly, savoring each bite at a time. So, I studied my subject in depth. Every tilt of the head, the twist of a limb around another, the fashion, the location, and the assumption of money being spent wildly with glee and without concern. I closed my eyes to capture the full scent of my delight, as another fantasy was born.
Infatuation cake is my cultivated terminology for those instances where you find yourself eating up the habits of others. Humoring yourself to be taken from your own reality and aiming to envision yourself as another. What if I was married to that person? What does driving through Monaco in a Lamborghini feel like? How many stamps are in their passports? Doesn’t it seem that affluent people receive tons of gratis stuff compared to the average person? Why is my private island, with my sailboat, and my loving husband, and our favorite family nearby not happening for me (yet)?
There are nutshells in which I can boil most of my longing and panic down. There is this unquenchable attitude of scarcity that propels me to fight for more, ignore the party line, reach for the stars, or at least scramble for a piece of them. Maybe I haven’t done enough work yet. Quite possibly it’s that bugger they call mindset. The very stars I pray under might tell me it’s not my destiny. Happenstance says I haven’t been in the right place at the right time thus far. Still, what about the thoughts and feelings that I would do so much — and more- with the same things others have? As I hear Yoda profess in the imaginary background of my life: “Patience young padawan.”
I spend heaps of my time around humans. I’ve paid enormous amounts of attention to the ways others live, look, and love. I’m always fascinated with the lifestyles and choices that surround each of us. I’m compelled by a continuing thread in me that wonders what it must be and feel like to live in other’s shoes. I want to know. I let my hunches breathe intensely when I’ve found myself perched on the yacht in the middle of the French Riviera, baking myself to a color not naturally selected as my own under the Caribbean sun, walking the secret path to a villa few could ever discern an address to find, exiting the limo onto the red carpet with a starlet, and peering down from the private jet flying above Niagara Falls. I mean, what does it truly all do and create in a person who lives with daily means beyond what I’ve ever known?
Equally, I’ve been diving in and out of so many aspects of cultures and living styles since I was a baby. Through mighty travels in so many lands, with so many types of people, I’ve seen so much. People living in huts, shacks, trees, apartments, cabins, trailers, communes, condos, homes, hotels, mansions, and under the randomness of the sky. There are others like me who have been essentially home-less for years. I’ve fallen in love and thought about moving in a couple instances to either a remote island in Fiji or another blissful island in Greece. When I was young, I remember drawing many different pictures of the styles of homes I wanted to live in one day. In my mind’s eye, the biggest change in all the years since is the number of things inside the homes has dwindled to fit my spacious preference to traveling as living, more than owning a lot of things.
Through all moments I pay so much attention to what others living looks like and I ask about their lives too. I’m inspired by the love I see in couples. I’m endeared by children around their families. I’m bowled over by workers in great jobs with co-workers, staff, and bosses that are engaging them so well. I’m always trying to get to the root of what do I want, through the lens of seeing another’s life. I take photos and I move through others lives with work I’ve done supporting charities, VIP/celebrities, friends, friends of friends, family and interlopers alike. I seek meaning, purpose, my path, my lover, my husband, my home, my contribution, my self-worth, my income to create fierce wealth to allow me to create more for others. The circles and cycles of thoughts trip onward.
Perhaps you can identify. The truth is to see the ‘cake’ for what it really is. The ‘cake’ is a whimsical need to bring the infatuation of others to the reality of recognizing that anyone else’s existence is their own and not meant to fit as another’s life. ‘What is yours is yours and what’s mine is mine’ theory. Instead of wanting to mimic the tang of another’s life for my own, I need to ‘allow the allowing’, as a recent teaching from my new favorite Buddhist meditation philosopher friend Scott Tusa just confirmed.
Infatuation cake is also like a wild rose. It’s beauty and the thorns. It’s the lightness with the darkness. We hold these truths to be self-evident: We are created equal as humans, then the real stuff gets going! Make your turns around the sun and moves around our Mother Earth as beautiful as you are willing. Let your infatuations fly, but don’t let them knock you down. Have your cake, eat it too, but don’t let it be the end to you. While in the scheme of things, you just might find others have been infatuated with you too. Take your tough times and try to use them as a life batter of sweetness and humor.
On that note — TGIF! Thank Goodness It’s Funny… and Friday!