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I am a nightmare for comparison. I look at someone else’s physique and wish mine was the same. I see another person’s meal in a restaurant and instantly regret my own culinary decision. I pull up at the traffic lights next to the model up from my car and wish I was sitting in the other one.
The grass often looks greener on the other side. Bigger, better, faster, more beautiful. In our social media saturated world, this comparison trap is multiplied exponentially.
Wolfgang Puck famously said, “The grass is greener where you water it.” I think about that quite often.
I have also heard it said that the grass is greenest when it’s fake. As the recent owner of artificial turf (and the perfect, all-round lushness and lack of divots or mud patches this brings), I can confidently say that it is so true. That perfectly-even green, those immaculate blades...there's a strange satisfaction in it. No more weeds, no bald patches, just an eternal, vibrant summer that makes the neighbours and visitors give a double-take. It's a relief, honestly, to have one less thing in life to feel imperfect about. (But we do have an artificial grass sweeper and brush to replace the lawnmower to keep it that way, I kid you not.)
But here's the thing, even with my artificial wonderland right outside my window, the comparison trap doesn't disappear. Suddenly, I'm comparing my real houseplants to the impossibly perfect ones I see on other people’s Zoom backgrounds, my home-cooked attempts to those impossibly styled dishes on my social feed. It's like my brain decided that if it can't fixate on the grass, it'll find something else to make me feel inadequate.
The irony isn't lost on me. I bought the fake grass to chase that sense of effortlessness, the illusion of having it all together. And yes, on some level, it does work. But it turns out, getting rid of one source of my "grass is greener" angst reveals just how deeply this comparison sickness is rooted.
Maybe Puck had it right, in a way. The grass really is greener when you put in the effort. But is it the grass itself that matters, or the act of tending to something? After all, the joy of my fake lawn isn't in the perfection itself, it's in the fact that I don't have to work for it. There's no accomplishment in something that's effortlessly flawless.
Image Source: Midjourney - Prompt: the green green grass of home in an absurdist philosophy --ar 16:9
Now I'm not about to rip out my lovely green carpet and return to the muddy battleground.
But this isn’t really about grass.
This greenness isn't about external things at all, but instead about internal effort. It's about nurturing the parts of ourselves that make us unique, finding those hidden reservoirs of strength and creativity. It's a shift away from trying to replicate someone else's finished masterpiece and towards focusing on our own creative process. As they say: let's stop comparing our blooper reels to everyone else's highlight reel.
It's also about contentment. That elusive state of being.
"I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty."
St Paul
Within this shift lies a fundamental philosophical question: What does it mean to be truly content? Is it found in the finished product, the external validation, or is it rooted in the process of becoming? Thinkers across time, from Aristotle to the existentialists, have wrestled with this very question.
Aristotle famously emphasised the idea of 'eudaimonia', a concept often translated as 'flourishing' or 'well-being'. But eudaimonia isn't about fleeting happiness or achieving a static state of perfection. It's about a lifelong journey of fulfilling our potential, about living in accordance with our unique virtues and talents. In this view, true fulfilment comes from the striving itself, not simply the end result.
Although some people contest whether this quote should be attributed to Aristotle, the sentiment of journeys rather than just destinations is summed up nicely in this, whoever actually said it:
“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”
Joyce Meyer (who isn’t one of my favourite people but I like the name of her book nevertheless) wrote about Enjoying Where You Are On The Way To Where You’re Going. This is something lost on me very often. Instead of the perennial “Are we nearly there yet?”, perhaps we might ask ourselves, “What can we enjoy on the way?”
(By the way, this often reminds me of car journeys as it will many of you. When we used to go to Blackpool, our journey was broken up with games of Eye-Spy, Cheese on Wheels (spotting a yellow car!), number plate word games (what’s the longest word you can make with the 3 letters at the end of the plate in order?) and usually, the Spotting Blackpool Tower first ritual to determine who got to choose where we had our tea!)
“Excellence is never an accident. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives - choice, not chance, determines your destiny.”
Aristotle
Back to seriousness...The Existentialists, with figures such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, took this concept of journeys not destinations even further. They believed that we are fundamentally beings-in-the-making, constantly creating our own essence through choices and actions. There's no pre-set 'perfect' version of ourselves we're meant to become, the journey itself is the destination.
This resonates deeply with the fight against comparison. By focusing on someone else's finished product, we risk ignoring the vast richness of our own ongoing creation. Every mistake, every setback, every small victory along the way shapes who we are becoming. Instead of fixating on replicating someone else's artwork, we can embrace the messy beauty of our own canvas, with all its unique textures and possibilities.
Of course, this isn't to say external achievements are meaningless. Applause, recognition, awards, they have their place. But when they become the sole focus, an emptiness can linger. True fulfilment, the kind that weathers the storms of comparison, comes from an alignment between our internal growth and our expression in the world.
This might mean pursuing a career in line with our passions, overcoming a long-held fear, or simply finding greater acceptance for the complexities within ourselves. The more we water this internal greenness, the deeper our roots grow, and the more resilient we become against the allure of external perfection.
And perhaps, the most profound realisation is this: in focusing on this internal growth, we contribute something far more valuable than any finished product. We become living examples of the courage to create, the embrace of imperfection, and the enduring power of the human spirit to continually strive for its fullest expression.
The Stoics, with their emphasis on inner tranquillity and virtuous living, would likely view our modern comparison trap with a mixture of compassion and a touch of exasperated wisdom. They might remind us, as Epictetus did, that "What upsets people is not things themselves, but their judgments about these things." In other words, it's not the other person's life that causes our discontent, but our own internal valuation of it. This is certainly what Ryan Holiday would remind us with book titles like Ego is the Enemy, The Obstacle is the Way, Discipline is Destiny and The Daily Stoic (as opposed to The Arrived Stoic or The Completed Stoic).
Stoicism would urge us to shift our focus inward. Instead of fixating on what we lack compared to others, we could examine our own thoughts and beliefs. Do we truly believe our worth hinges on external achievements, or does true fulfilment reside in cultivating inner strength and virtue? By questioning these underlying assumptions, we gain the power to choose where we invest our mental energy.
Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, knew the seductive lure of external validation. Yet, he warned himself, "Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one." He and the others recognised that true worth isn't about appearances, but about the choices we make each day. Do we act with kindness, integrity, and courage, regardless of whether anyone is watching? This focus on personal character provides far sturdier ground for self-worth than any fleeting comparison.
Of course, this isn't about denying the reality of human suffering or pretending that external circumstances don't matter. The Stoics believed in actively engaging in life but with a sense of detachment from its unpredictable outcomes. This resilience comes in part from practising 'negative visualisation', imagining the loss of things we value. While this might seem counterintuitive, it helps us appreciate the present moment and minimises the sting of future disappointments or setbacks that will inevitably occur alongside life's joys.
Ultimately, this perspective offers a powerful antidote to the comparison trap. It reminds us that true happiness lies in the realm of what we can control – our thoughts, our actions, and our commitment to living in alignment with our values. By focusing on this internal growth, we build a reservoir of peace and strength that becomes increasingly unshakeable by the ever-changing standards and fickle approval of the external world.
Image Source: Midjourney - Prompt: Jean-Paul Sartre as a Simpsons character -- 16:
The Absurdists, such as Albert Camus, would likely view the relentless pursuit of 'perfect' lives and constant comparison with a wry laugh. They would see the inherent absurdity in this game we play – the desperate desire to impose order and meaning onto a fundamentally unpredictable and sometimes senseless world.
Camus famously wrote, "There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide." While this sounds bleak, it's actually a starting point for embracing life's absurdity. The Absurdists wouldn't find the answer to meaning in social media feeds or external markers of success. Instead, they found freedom in acknowledging the lack of inherent meaning and defiantly creating their own.
From the Absurdist perspective, comparison becomes a futile exercise. If life has no pre-set script, no universal scorecard, why measure ourselves against arbitrary standards? They might ask, what if instead of seeking to 'win' at this imaginary game, we simply changed how we played?
For the Absurdists, the act of rebellion against meaninglessness was where fulfilment lay. This could manifest as finding joy in the simple act of creation for its own sake, embracing experiences without concern for external judgement, or finding dark humour in life's inherent contradictions. It's a shift from striving for the unattainable 'perfect' to finding profound meaning in the flawed, messy, and vibrantly human experience.
The Absurdists understood that comparison could hold a strange allure, a promise of control in a chaotic world. But they would urge us to see this illusion for what it is and instead embrace the liberating uncertainty of existence. True freedom, they might argue, is not found in reaching some imagined destination, but in dancing joyfully, even defiantly, along the way.
Image Source: Midjourney - Prompt: the illusion of control in a world of chaos. Clear reference to Albert Camus. Do this in a Cubist style --ar 16:9
So, we want to break this "grass is greener" cycle of comparison, right? Here are some things I have been trying:
1. Practise Stoic Self-Examination.
- Set aside regular time for quiet reflection (perhaps with a journal 😉). Examine your underlying beliefs about success and self-worth. Are these beliefs tied solely to external factors, or do they include internal qualities like character, resilience, and effort?
2. Embrace the Absurdist Rebellion.
- Challenge the inherent 'rules' of comparison. Instead of trying to conform, find joy in your unique path. Experiment with creation for the sake of creation, indulge in activities that bring you simple pleasure, and laugh at the absurdities of life. Doodle, build something purely for fun, write a nonsensical poem, engage with playful hobbies that have no outcome other than enjoyment - I have been enjoying Udio and Suno for absurd AI music creation!
3. Cultivate Your Internal Garden.
- Identify areas of potential personal growth. This could be developing a new skill, pursuing a passion project, overcoming a fear, or fostering greater self-compassion. Dedicate time and effort to nurturing these aspects of yourself. Enrol in a class (online or in-person), start a practice related to your chosen focus (e.g., 3 weights session/week), and track your progress to celebrate growth, not just outcomes.
4. Adopt a Focus on Choice.
- Be mindful of where you invest your mental energy. Actively choose to focus on what you can control – your thoughts, actions, and responses. Redirect your attention deliberately when the comparison trap starts to creep in. Use a visual reminder (a bracelet, sticky note, etc.) as a cue to shift focus. Develop a personal mantra focusing on choice, such as "I choose to focus on my own journey." It might feel weird but might just help - I am a fan of visual cues, hence my office whiteboard!
As a finisher though, a few warnings:
Be patient with yourself. Changing deeply ingrained thought patterns takes time and practice.
Focus on progress, not perfection. Even small steps toward these actions are victories worth celebrating. (I seem to see loads of people in the gym wearing a brilliant slogan: Better Than Yesterday. I will have that!)
Don't ignore your feelings. Feelings of envy or inadequacy are normal. Acknowledge them, then choose how you'll respond.
Here’s to a comparison to self. Be better than yesterday…
