Compassion for the ego. Ssshhhh....don't tell your fave spiritual master

Don't tell anyone but I've decided to extend compassion to that part of me known as the ego. This is easy because personifying it and likening it to my mother, how can I not be loving and compassionate towards it? My dearest ego, my quirky family of selves, is in many ways exactly like her or anyone who would claim to love me. Your own ego is probably rolling their eyes at this and saying really Ino?

Yes, really my friend. Allow me to demonstrate; my doting mother and ego both want the best for me. They want nothing more than to have me stay alive for as long as it's humanly possible. Of course,  I should also be successful -albeit this 'success' is according to set societal standards that I DO NOT resonate with. See? these two are practically twins. *Special shoutout to the adorable McClure Twins https://www.youtube.com/user/jkmcclure for this adorbs gif*

In addition, their desires for my 'success' are based on what they think I am now lacking. A lack that is narcissistic in that it is measured by their experience of deprivation. 

My mom and ego hold a similar vision for 'my best life'. In it, I work as a town planner (I hold two degrees in this BTW), earn a 'respectable' salary, have two kids with my light-skinned or better yet, my Caucasian husband (because as a dark-skinned African woman, I should dilute the melanin in my offspring-can't have kids darker than I am right?), and the most exciting thing about my life is that I can vacation once a year at whatever the middle-class has accepted as the new hot holiday destination. 

So, they both encourage me towards activities and actions that will somewhat move me closer to this dream and will outright oppose all that remotely looks like a deviation from this. All of this because they don't want me to fail, or be perceived as a failure.

This fear-based (dis)couragement played itself out perfectly with my mother a couple of days ago when I called to tell her about my intentions to buy a commuter bicycle. Her first reaction was to laugh almost uncontrollably-this is what she does when what she's hearing is so foreign and outwardly to her that she can't even respond with words.

My dear mother laughed and I let her have her moment and then she stopped almost abruptly with her tone jumping from uncontrollable joy to nervousness. 

Cue the violins and violas.....! 

What followed next was a string of carefully worded cautious tale about the real dangers of being a bicycle commuter. My loving mother, detailed painstakingly story about my great grandfather whose preferred mode of transportation was the bicycle, he loved it so much that he rode it some 20+km to and from work daily for about 15 years. BUT! his love caused him great leg discomfort, he was in constant agony up until his transition to the none-physical in his 70s. And according to my doting mother, who only wants the best for me and would like nothing less than to see me suffer like Om Joe (what everyone affectionately called him) did, then I best leave the whole commuter bike idea alone.

I thought "wow! first of all, thank you for the family history lesson. I didn't know this about my great grandpops. And secondly, that sure sounds tragic but I'm sure Om Joe's leg situation had another explanation", I only verbalized some of this because I still somewhat censor myself with my parents...

but I digress, I got the bicycle and that's all that matters!