Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Turning Envy into Action

I remember how often my little sister, now gone, fought pangs of jealousy. I have had more than my share of my own faults and vices to battle, but for some reason or other, jealously has rarely been one of them. I seemed to have caught on to a way to turn it around as soon as it begins to gnaw at me.

Normally, what I do is face it head on. Why does it bother me, even a little, because of something someone else owns, or something they accomplished? Once I see what it is, I decide whether I really want that for me, personally. If not, I drop it, immediately, because it is useless to want what I know is not "me." If it is something that I truly would like, then I ask myself why I am not going out there and getting it.

An example. In the 70s, when my free lance writing career was beginning to really take off, I belonged to a writer's group in southern California. At the monthly meetings, writers were encouraged to announce their sales or credits. It was meant to let us share news of markets we might not have tried otherwise. Many a time, other writers would become very envious of these announcements. However, I looked at it another way. Was this a category of writing, a genre, or a media, that really appealed to me? If not, as in sports writing, or fiction (at that time), or a market that was out of my interest-league, I just dropped it and was happy for the writer who announced it. If, however, it was something that really appealed to me, or it made me say, "Gee, I could have done that," I would immediately follow it with, "Well, why didn't you do that?" And then I would take steps to find my way into that market.

I'm not bragging that I am not jealous or envious. I'm just saying that I did learn a way to handle one of life's hurdles. Now, to handle the other half-a-million or so that are still in my way (sigh).

Dear Lord, thank you for the grace you send me, when I have the sense to ask, and for the times you send it, even when I don't have the sense to ask.

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