FIT@50: Did You See That?

FIT@50: Did You See That?

This past week, Leah and I were in Beverly Hills for work. We were also lucky enough to catch up with great friends and family. We spent lots of time outdoors enjoying the cool weather and sunny skies.

As expected, the sights were to say the least, interesting. But as we sat in an open air café, I was captured by the spectacle of cars, clothes and even kids. Everyone was sculpted, tanned and perfectly manicured. Their vehicles were pristine and vibrant colors highlighted every curve and chrome.

As a group of what looked like super model mixed company passed us, I peeked down at my supermarket flip-flops. I laughed at the bottle opener built into the sole.

Without drawing attention to myself, I set both feet back on the ground. I peeked into a plane of glass reflection to tussle and then straighten out my hair, and tugged at the long sleeve Harley Davidson t-shirt I’d worn on the cross-country flight earlier.

I was guilty. Guilty of comparison.

Comparison is the dangerous side of people watching. I’m a people watcher, and enjoy the interactions between others. Part of being a good observer is not making judgments about what you see, but appreciating the view for what is presented.

Does imagination pop in there a time or two? Sure it does. Who hasn’t painted life stories for strangers within the moments it takes to cross your path.

But, comparing what you have or who you are to others based on the length of their man-capri’s or the model of their Lamborghini isn’t genuine or healthy.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t sulk because they had an 8 pack, while I sported a 1, maybe 2 pack, but just for the moment I resented their manufactured appearance.

It wasn’t out of jealousy or spite, but it was out of comparison. When we do that, we diminish others to elevate ourselves.

Admittedly, it only lasted a few seconds, but it made an impression on me. I wondered what it was that I thought I was missing out on to have disconnected myself from superb company to become engaged in a dangerous game of comparison.

And that was the answer. I had turned from the blessings of sharing a fantastic evening with my loving wife and two dear friends, to focus on something that held no meaning or value in my life. It’s called taking your eye off the ball.

When we do that, we either end up with a knot on our head where the ball smacks us, or a wasted moment worrying about what others have that we don’t. And to be honest, that half a million dollar car might’ve been an Uber.

Much Love / Respect,

One comment

  1. I always like to remember what the sculpted people have to give up to look like that… There’s no pulled pork sammiches in their future, and that is a cryin’ shame.

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