So I was in Florence last weekend. I know, lucky me! This was Leonardo da Vinci’s home town. I finally made it to the Uffizi gallery and took in some exquisite art, including his version of the annunciation. I’ve finally acquired the maturity to really appreciate these renaissance masterpieces. Sure, some of the baby Jesuses are, well, quite unlike any baby I’ve ever seen (and I’m a midwife), and sure, some Madonnas are less than flattering, but it’s finally dawned on me that these babies are meant to portray infinite wisdom (not something commonly attributed to small immature humans) and their mothers are supposed to represent unending virtue (so I guess that rules out coquettry). Up until this realisation, I’d struggled to take early renaissance art seriously, because why did baby Jesus look like an old man? I knew they could do great cherubs, so they’d obviously seen babies! Why did his mum look so unnatural? I guess when you’re trying to depict a woman (but absolutely not a tempting seductress) who is both a virgin and a mother, you get yourself into a bit of a pickle. 

Anyway, we also went to a museum dedicated to Leo’s amazing genius. There were dozens of working models based on his ideas and inventions. Not gonna lie, it’s all a wee bit too complicated for me. They try to simplify the physics but the explanations are just a jumble of words which make sense individually, just not in that particular order, and definitely not in those sentences. What I did understand intuitively as I played with the interactive exhibits which are supposed to help me understand gears and cogs and pulleys and levers, is the feeling he was born too soon. That man would have been unstoppable with a few volts of current. A flicker of electricity. The man yearned to fly. You can see it in his paintings of angels, with their carefully depicted, anatomically correct wings. In his invention of the would-be helicopter. And his mechanical wing.

Look, I’m sure Leo lived his best life. And maybe I’m overestimating how much he yearned for flight, but it got me thinking about that feeling of impotent desire that I suspect we all experience.

I have this crazy yearning to go to space. I hear you, that’s hardly an environment-friendly desire, we should be focusing our resources on saving the earth. Worse, I don’t just want a few weightless minutes (though Richard Branson, if you were recruiting…), or even the space station (though that would be pretty awesome); I want to go the whole hog, to the moon. Or, better still, the Red Planet. I know I was born too soon for that to happen, and I’ve made my peace with that.  But think about it if you will: seeing the earth from afar… walking on Mars… sure, its a long and hazardous journey but maybe I’d get to enjoy zero gravity and watch Netflix for six months.  People used to endure much worse when crossing the Atlantic some five centuries ago. I’d have been too much of a sea sick wimp to find that appealing.

But my space yearning is nothing compared to my deep desire for a time machine. I yearn to walk with dinosaurs, discuss calligraphy with the ancient Egyptians, check out a summer solstice dawn with the people who built Stone Henge, enjoy a fiery cocoa drink with the Incas… I’d also dearly love to know what happens next… look, I know a time machine would be a terrible idea for humanity, (who could possibly decide how far we go back, what we change…) but how cool would it be to go back to 15th century Florence and tell Leo all about the combustion engine! I might have accidentally started the Florentine empire, we’d all be speaking Italian, eating gelato, and driving ferraris as standard! How bad could it be?

Ok, clearly neither are sensible. But at least I can admit to wanting these impossible things. I don’t have to feel guilty about wanting these things because they aren’t going to happen. I’ll never have to contemplate the moral impact of either interplanetary or time travel, which is just as well because I’d say hell yeah to both, consequences be damned.

Maybe that’s the thing about yearning: you just wish what you wish for, regardless of the moral implications.

I try to teach my kids to be content with what they have (spoiler alert, they are extremely lucky) but I can tell they yearn for more. They aren’t satisfied with the prospect of an above average life which they are pretty much guaranteed. They yearn for penthouses and fast cars and private jets. Perhaps that’s normal if you’ve grown up on a diet of influencers who swear that you, too, could be a multi-millionaire with minimal effort. The fact that these influencers aren’t as rich as they make out, and work sooo much harder than they let on is conveniently overlooked.  But it does go to show how common it is to yearn for a life of exceptional wealth and fame.  I wish they would yearn to combat climate change (instead of actively contributing to it), or to end poverty, or eradicate AIDS, but why would I expect them to do those things when I quite clearly haven’t. Conversely, is it so wrong to deeply desire that they be happy leading a simple, ethical,  reasonably carbon neutral life. Probably not, but… if I cannot control my own rather un-green yearnings, why should I expect them to?

Some sixteen years ago, I had a much more gut wrenching yearning. Back then I couldn’t talk about it because I felt so guilty for wanting it. I knew I should count my blessings, which were numerous, and extinguish that impossible longing. And today, I feel guilty for mentioning it because I actually got my heart’s desire. That’s not meant to happen. How lucky was I?

I wanted a third child.

I couldn’t talk about it because I knew how lucky I was to have two gorgeous healthy boys already. I couldn’t talk about it because I knew how lucky I was to be able to afford such extravagance. I couldn’t talk about it for fear I’d be judged for wanting a girl (I just wanted another baby). And yet it was all I wanted to talk about. But the guilt kept me silent, and each barren month that went by would bring silent, guilty tears of pure anguish. When the 2 blue lines finally appeared (after 15 months, not even that long as it turned out, how lucky was I?) I was ecstatic and haven’t looked back.  But if I thought that raising a child gets easier as you increase your brood… turns out that’s incorrect! Mothering a third child is just as complex and unnerving as numbers one and two. Sadly, you go back to square one. Every. Single. Time! And as you (all too slowly) learn to see the world through their eyes (unrecognisable at first, you gotta hang in there), you do find yourself gaining a wee bit more understanding about what they yearn for. No matter how crazy. Yearning, of course, isn’t sensible. You learn that, too! But it makes us human. It explains our seemingly innate certainty that life can’t just be eat sleep work repeat. It’s what motivates us to get out of bed. It’s what drives ambition. Like so many things that make us human, it’s a double-edged sword. Harnessed properly it can be a wondrous power for good. Improperly corralled, it can be a terrible excuse for stunted emotional growth and unbridled selfishness. Forgive me for yearning for the best: I’m a hopeless optimist.

So now I’m free to yearn for trivial stuff, and yes, I do know how lucky I am.

I long to know what my cat is trying to tell me when she miaows with unbearable yearning.

I’d kill for unlimited chocolate without the guilt and/or the commensurate amount of sweaty, uncomfortable, time consuming exercise.

I yearn to master the piano, despite my utter lack of eye/hand coordination, my innate lack of rhythm, and non-existent musicality. No. I’m not being hard on myself, I do have ears…  yes, it’s ok to persevere at something just because, just for me. I shall plod on, despite the challenges!

Ditto with my language obsession… turns out there are Too Many Words. And apparently I have a one in, one out kinda memory for words which is utterly exasperating. But. I will not give up.

Also, I gotta admit, I’d really love to have wings. Or a jet pack (although with my spatial awareness I’d be toast in less than a minute). Nevertheless,  I’m with Leo on that one.

Finally,  not gonna lie, I yearn for you, loyal readers, to subscribe in droves. I do feel guilty about that one though!