Lucy stares out her window, no longer the sun shines brightly on her garden. Rain fall as if it feels her mood; a tiny spot of blue appears and she smiles. Her mood lifts as she remembers it isn’t that bad. For hasn’t she already once mused about expectations and why humans feel the need to live up to those?
Ah, yes. Now she remembers. You cannot please the world for it will not let itself be pleased. The world is, as I am. As humans are, only why do they feel the need to own a piece of another? What drives humans to flock together and fight over the right to tell another how to behave, how to be? Isn’t being enough? “Just be and be the best human you can be” Lucy wants to say. Instead she whispers, “I do not want any human to feel sad. Nor should I feel that way.” Lucy thinks and stares and stares and thinks. What if the human was pleased with not being Lucy’s friend, wouldn’t that work for the human as well as Lucy bending over backwards to please?
Yes, Lucy will not please the human any longer and wish that one “God speed. I do hope you find a human friend to please you, for I can no longer.
Once again Lucy stares out into the now desolate garden thinking about how humans create expectations with their behaviour, even when they do not mean for that to happen, it still does. “… expectations and human behaviour …” Action and reaction. Cause and effect, or should it read affect? “For are it not one humans actions that affect those others surrounding the one? Causing expectations to grow and hopes to blossom?” Lucy sighs and ponders on hope and affect, causality and blame. “Mea culpa …” She shakes her head as she realises that humans are not the rational beings they like to pretend to be. “Humans expect too much and not enough. Some sell themselves short to avoid blame. Take blame and shame to avoid strain, but doesn’t that create expectations those cannot continue to live up to? And will they not break?”
Sylvia Plath once said, “If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.”
“How right she was,” Lucy sighs, but if no human had expectations they would not strive to live up to them and no progress would be made. But neither would wars be waged, or envy felt, consuming rage set free. “Ah, but that would be a perfect world, and perfection is not, only life. As Milan Kundera said.” Lucy smiles and knows that at least she expects nothing and thus cannot be disappointed. She will not let expectations dictate her feelings, nor her behaviour. Lucy sets out to be freed of those, to be truly liberated.