“what notion of love is still among humans?”
Watching people and seeing their empty eyes Lucy muses, “How is that humans have all but forgotten to love, not only each other, but themselves too. And when one does not love oneself, how can any human then love another? Oh, to give love without the expectation of love in return. Just to give, to share that feeling of being whole. Another ideal to achieve. What if …”
“Why?” Lucy asked the woman with the painted face and dyed hair. The empty woman voiced her fear of not being loved if her appearance no longer matched the expectations of her man.
Then Lucy thinks about Friedrich Salomon Perls. Did he not say once, “I am not in this world to live up to other people’s expectations, nor do I feel that the world must live up to mine.”
Aren’t expectations and the failure to live up to those often the fuel for anger? What if humanity would be more aware of its surroundings, less focussed on the individual? What if humans would let go of their need for instant gratification? Learn to live without expectations, or the need to live up to what is expected from them. Would they not be free? Happy? Able to express themselves in a way that fits the moment, not force themselves in the mold that has been prepared for each individual from conception to grave.
“Ah,” muses Lucy, “but that would be an ideal world. If humans could just be and not expect.”
Wouldn’t that bring true happiness to all humans, a sense of peace and content? “Ah, happiness,” whispers Lucy. “isn’t that what comes from within? Why do humans expect it to be given to them? How come there are so many humans so profoundly unhappy? When are they ever happy? When they have the most hits on their social media? That network of friends, which creates so much anti-social behaviour?”
Look around and no doubt you will see a woman, her man ready to make her happy. Lucy cannot see his unhappy face, and his wife has no eyes for him either, for she is too busy typing with a message on her smartphone. No time for happiness up close. Why is it that what is near, is ever far? And drifts even further out of reach with every stroke of a key?