Comparison is the thief of joy, and other tiny observations
Slowing down as 2022 comes to an end
Hi friends,
Wherever you find yourself this holiday, I wish you and your loved ones health, happiness, and a few moments of peace and quiet to enjoy this collection of observations and ideas:
It’s a Wonderful Life
It is said that comparison is the thief of joy, a sentiment widely attributed to Theodore Roosevelt, though it’s unclear if that’s 100% accurate. In any case, there’s real meaning to the phrase, it relates to our lives in many ways as society pushes us toward comparison: comparison to one another, comparison to “ideals,” and comparison to whatever’s in vogue on social media.
How do we push back against our tendency to compare? Unlocking the power of contentment is the way.
I got this annual reminder from my favorite movie, the holiday classic film It’s a Wonderful Life (tissue box needed), where an angel comes to help a frustrated businessman, George Bailey, by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed. When George's son announces that the neighbors have a new car, George teaches him about contentment. "Well, what's the matter with our car?" he asks.
The angel, Clarence, later says: "One man's life touches so many others. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"
A key takeaway from the film: Life itself is the ultimate gift, and our mere existence is a miracle. When George is brought back to Earth by the angel, he’s thankful to simply hug his wife and children, and he’s overjoyed to live in a warm, safe home.
There's the profound message that each life is exceptionally and uniquely important.
The movie ends with a touching line about community and friendship as George realizes that the stuff that matters — family, friends, and faith — far exceeds everything else. He comes to appreciate things that are not measured in dollars, but in the currency of friendship and family, and the good karma one puts out into the world.
"Dear George, remember, no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings. Love, Clarence."
(The film was a box-office bust, rediscovered years later because of a clerical error, which allowed it to be broadcast anywhere for free.)
May we act on the messages of this film not just around the holidays, but throughout the year.
As another year comes to an end, I consider this thought, from Joseph Goldstein, a meditation teacher: "It's impossible to count on things staying the same, staying the way we want them to stay—because everything is always becoming otherwise." Everything is always in transition, including our lives themselves, if only we’d realize it.
Still, we tend to want things to stay the same. Sometimes, I long for the early days of the pandemic, when life seemed to pause, plans were canceled, and we were forced to eat dinner together with loved ones every night. I long for the freedom of 2021, when the world was just opening back up, and Ally and I drove across the country to explore the beauty of America’s national parks. Sometimes, we overhear people talking about “simpler” or “easier” times — phrases humans have repeated for thousands of years. The truth is, one day we’ll probably long for today, and for tomorrow, so let’s put out into the world what good we can while we’re here.
Rather than complain about the labor shortage in the service industry, will we choose this mantra instead, leading with empathy?
Aboard a recent flight, we were approaching the runway on a smooth, regular trajectory until we met dense fog just off the ground. The pilot lifted the plane up quite drastically, which got my heart racing. We couldn’t safely land through the fog, so we diverted to another airport. I wouldn’t classify it as a near-death experience, but it was one of those moments where you’re just grateful to get home safely. I try not to take for granted simply returning home safely each day (or week).
This time around the New Year is for rest, recharging, and reflection. Hopefully, you can build time to slow down in the final days of the year. I think about time and slowing it down often, and it came to my attention again recently when Pete, an immigrant from Greece and Uber driver, said he’s been in America since he was about 18, in the mid-70s. Now he’s 65. As he told me his age, he almost couldn’t believe it.
He talked about how quickly his life has gone by. He said he’d do many things differently, mostly with how he spent his time, how he treated people, and what he did for a living. He travels when he can, and he said he’s had fun along the way. From speaking with him, you got the sense that he wishes he’d taken more chances and gone for his true desires, rather than play it safe. But what resonated most was how surprised he seemed at how the time seemed to evaporate, as if he woke up and bam, he turned 65. Life moves fast and we get no rewind, but we have the power of now.
Going through old photos makes me nostalgic: me as a baby, me as a young lad, family growing older. The process of looking at old photographs, especially those we can physically touch, stirs our emotions, bringing both smiles and tears. We become flooded with memories. As we reflect on pictures of our younger selves, we can meditate on the preciousness of our existence — the beauty of the gift of life.
I love old photographs, for they are connections to the past that can alter our emotional state.
The other day, I heard someone recall a man’s gravestone that simply stated: “His life helped.” Quite the admirable way to be remembered.
Photo of the week:
Parting thought: Life is not about “or” — it is about “and.” It is magical and messy. It is heartwarming and heartbreaking. It is delight and disappointment. Grace and grief. Exquisite and excruciating, often at the exact same time. — Kristi Nelson
Celebrate your gifts,
Matthew
I love how you weave these powerful messages in such a compelling way. As I approach 65, I couldn't agree more about how fast the years have gone. Blink and it's over...remembering this does help to focus on the now.