Every artist has a colour they don’t like, that they’d prefer to never see on the palette or indeed, in their world. If there’s an emotion that I really wish did not exist, it’s JEALOUSY. No amount of visual or verbal romanticisation can make this emotion anything but an unpleasant, repugnant one to me.
In other people it reveals humanity as petty, the world as small and inglorious – not the one that feels fit for me to live my best self in. And it’s harder still, when I find it in myself. I hate it so much, I find myself walking away from situations, people and relationships that even might bring up this emotion in me. I do not like to feel petty.
And yet… …how I wish I had a clean, inspiring way to complete that thought and this post. I don’t, so my only recourse is to face it in the hopes that moral courage removes the blemish of emotional pettiness in me. How pretentious I sound even to myself, as I struggle to move away from this emotion.
It is such a powerful feeling. It terrifies me. I have experienced firsthand, being the object of someone else’s jealousy. I’ve glimpsed the monster in their eyes, their souls as people lie and violate, when overcome by this emotion. I’ve watched compassion, kindness and affection die when jealousy takes over. Jealousy is that evil monster that eats away our best self. Perhaps this is why it is so romanticised.
I asked a wise friend for advice, expecting platitudes. So many conversations live in the realm of false positive. But she asked me to remember the fullness of life, a thought that led me back to my garden of abundance. I feel safe there from green-eyed devils and a world of pettiness. But it feels temporary, a refuge I can run to rather than a place I am.
Then I think of the roses. Roses bloom in heat and soil that’s acidic, the kind that burns in my stomach. The purest of white rosebuds happened because acid played a part. And inside me, a steady supply of bile lets what I eat become a body that does so much.
Perhaps, all living needs some acid.