Tag Archives: jealousy

Green with Nothing

“The grass is greener where you water it.” —Neil Barringham

Envy, jealousy, and the need for other people’s affirmation are the three human attributes I’m most grateful to be missing.

Fundamental to the core neuro/emotional wiring in the majority of the species, these “craving catalysts” can be both potent motivators and crippling knocks to the knees. Like Wilson peeking over Tim Taylor’s fence, far too much of our focus is directed on what the neighbor is doing, saying, and collecting.

For whatever reason, I simply lack that circuitry. Eschewing any desire to walk in someone else’s shoes, I celebrate my circle’s accomplishments and milestones from afar. Watching from the sidelines, I generally track trajectories with a well-balanced mix of support and detachment. I am genuinely happy, proud, and encouraging of their roads and the courses they’ve chosen to chart, but I have no deep-seated desire to join the jog.

If driving toward some lofty goal attainment is only possible by comparing yourself, your talent, or your abilities to someone you hold in higher status, respect, etc., keep chasing the rabbit. If that’s the only protein powder you can use to shake yourself into a state of motivation, so be it.

But turning that light inward might scare away some of those jealous shadows and reshape your target practice. There’s always more work to be done when we’re brave enough to take that introspective dive into the darkness.

We certainly have a lot of Wilsons in this world right now, checking on the neighbor’s grass growth instead of splashing their own yards with a hose from time to time.

Plant your own seeds. Grow your own trees. The other forests will still be standing there, waiting to be explored when you’re ready.

Adolescence Interrupted

I Believe in You

I’m a big fan…of everyone else.

For some reason, I can see limitless potential and promise in the work and dreams of others. It’s easy to be a support system, offering encouragement and positive feedback, without an ounce of back-scratching reciprocity in mind. I love to celebrate people’s successes and revel in their triumphs—giant wins or tiny victories.

Even though I have generally found myself in fairly competitive fields and dog-eat-dog cities, there was never jealousy, envy, or any desire to trade positions with those who seemed to be riding a golden chariot to bigger and brighter futures. I simply saluted them as they passed through the clouds.

It’s exciting to witness a friend or loved one harnessing some hidden potential or exploring a particular passion. A sense of admiration and pride fill the space where bitterness or resentment could easily reside. I’ve always thought it was just lucky wiring to be free of that kind of burden—comparing my station or level of self-actualization to my peers. But I think it’s a bit more complex.

First, an interesting dichotomy is at play since I’m wildly competitive in so many areas of my life (tennis, board games, etc.), but feel absolutely no need to find rivals or adversaries in the work world. I hold fervent beliefs and opinions about almost everything, and I have zero reservations engaging in heated debates about endless topics. I will go to ridiculous lengths to defend a stance or point of view, but when it comes to status, career, or social standing, I gladly and regularly relinquish my spot in line. Why?

By maintaining an “army of one” existence and basic life philosophy, there is plenty of satisfaction found from the simple act of meeting minimal core needs. A solid sense of security and a healthy inner circle are almost all that’s on my list. I’m sure a depleted self-esteem reserve and a backlog of darts that stuck just left of the bullseye haven’t helped my cause. But the core code was written long before the swings and misses, and I’m grateful for the ability to be a cheerleader for those around me.

Some shoot for the stars, and some look for the best soil to bury the stake. Comfortably in the camp of the latter, I prefer a foundation that remains right where I left it.

Adolescence Interrupted