Lately, I’ve been working hard on my abundance mentality. The attitude that there’s plenty of good fortune to go around, and that another person’s success doesn’t take away from my own chances but might well enhance them. When you think about it, it all makes sense. It’s freeing, and it’s a key to a content and generous life.
And yet I have book envy.
It’s not even the big-name authors. If they come out with a new book, it’s all par for the course. It’s like watching a rock star on stage: I enjoy the show, but I don’t want to be where they are. To give up my privacy for fame and recognition? Nope. Not interested.
It’s watching debut or early-career authors succeed that messes with my head. The feeling that I could be where they are. That I should be where they are. Right there, in their place. And fuck abundance!
There are those who take success as their due and crow about it every chance they get. They’re easy to dislike, and begrudging them their wins doesn’t even feel all that wrong. No, it’s those (the vast majority) who handle their success gracefully, generously, with humility and, yes, a sense of abundance, whom I envy the most.
Turns out that I don’t just have book envy. I have character envy as well.
Of course it could all be a front. These folks might be just as envious as I am of those who are a few steps ahead in the game. They might lie through their teeth when they praise others or display humility. How would I know? I’ll always be comparing my inside with their outside. My feelings with their actions. My reality with what they choose to show the world.
But their motivations don’t really matter, do they? It’s their actions that count. It’s their actions that influence the world around them, and it’s their actions that reflect back upon them. So what if their true feelings are just as ungenerous as my own? If they don’t act upon them, nobody will be the wiser.
And maybe that’s all I can strive for. I can’t change my feelings by a conscious effort of will. That’s not how feelings work. They are nothing but ephemeral impulses; biochemical processes. They don’t matter. What matters is that I accept them and then deliberately choose how to act upon them. I can choose to act in line with the character traits I want to embody. And I can trust that this constant practice will work on me and settle into my bones and, over time, make me the truly generous person I strive to be. The person who can celebrate others’ achievements without that flare of envy that ultimately hurts myself the most.