On the Art of Living | 02
22 May 2020 | On jealousy
I can be quite skilled at jealousy. It doesn’t take much. Here in southern Portugal, life is slowly returning to normal after the Corona lockdown. Since a few days, campsites and camper spots are reopening. While we don’t often use them—we prefer “wild” camping—it meant we could hit the road again with our camper yesterday. No longer hiding from law enforcement on WorkAway spots (which were great too!), but travelling freely for the first time in over two months.
The gradual return to normal life also means that beaches, which had been off-limits, are reopening. Officially, they’re only open for sports, and sunbathing is technically still forbidden. But on the small beaches of the Algarve, locals are already sunbathing freely, and my jealous eyes can’t look away.
She’s much more tanned than me. She has much better curves. Her breasts are rounder. She’s had two children and still has a flatter stomach than me. When I notice M seeing all these curves and breasts too, my thoughts become even harsher. See? You could’ve tried harder during this morning’s run. Why do you have to snack so much?
Luckily, the jealousy doesn’t last too long. Actually, jealousy is a wonderful guide, one I can—eventually—accept. It connects me to what I desire. A healthy body. And I have one. Sure, I could lose a couple of pounds—but really, just a few. The months we’ve spent in the sunny south have made me happier when I see myself in the mirror. My eyes shine from my sun-kissed face. I’ve always loved my summer freckles, and now I’ve had them all winter long!
The artist in me is also incredibly, really incredibly, prone to jealousy. With great envy, I look at other people’s work. I always see something they do better, more surprisingly, more effectively, more interestingly. It can paralyse me. I’ve spent hours, sometimes days, feeling hopeless, thinking: just give up; it’ll never work out; why bother being an artist?
This happened last week when I saw work on Instagram by artists like @observe_a_fishtank and @zebrakadebra. That softness. Those bright colours. The textures, lines, spaces. And the number of likes and comments! I can make myself feel so small, so hopeless—in short, utterly jealous.
But thankfully, I eventually realize that jealousy is pointing to what I desire, and I can see it as a guide and source of inspiration rather than something that holds me back. What would I create if I used those colours, shapes, and materials? The answer came just as quickly as it was obvious: my Muse wants to be made! Suddenly, the flow returned. Everything around me—the leaves, tree bark, moss—became inspiration to create my Muse. The great play had begun again. After writing this, I’m going to work with shells I found on the beach. Hooray!
I’m curious to see which artist I’ll be jealous of next. If you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them.
