Envy is like fire, natural but destructive
The sports teams I played on as a youngster always lost. Little league. Youth football. Even the impromptu kickball teams formed during recess. Always, always lost. There was just one common denominator. Me.
The winning teams were celebrated as heroes. Sometimes with awards, always with awe.
I wanted to be a winner. I envied their honors.
And then I struck upon an ingenious solution to my suffering. I compiled a good chunk of my life's savings, walked to the local sporting goods store, and bought a trophy.
It didn't matter that I had never competed in any swim meets. A trophy is a trophy, right? I was now, finally, a winner!
My feelings of victory, my sense of winner-hood, barely made it out of the store. Yet I pitifully carried that statuette home for prominent exhibition. Disillusioned, I threw it away a few hours later.
I'm sure there were various evolutionary benefits to the restless discontent we call envy, such as prodding our ancestors to acquire more resources and mates. But envy serves little in the way of inner peace or genuine accomplishment.
The sad truth is that even if the resources and experiences toward which envy seemingly seduces were suddenly realized, envy wouldn't cease. It would land on another target, forever serving the body's restless I want it thus. Another idol will be found.
Whenever the flames of envy flicker at my feet, I try to remind myself of the little bronze diver perched upon its faux marble stand, poised to leap into the water. Only to end up in the trash can. A part of my soul burned to ashes.