Poetic Reflections: envious

In a movie I just watched, one woman cut off the face of a younger woman who was like a daughter to her, then wore it like a mask to fool the guy both women wanted. Although extreme, that shocking and regrettable act symbolizes how envy can change a person.

Have you ever felt desperate to the point that you wanted what another had so bad, it caused an ugly little creature to evolve inside of you — let’s call it Not Very Nice, N.V.N. for short, like envying — which was turning you into a version of yourself you scarce could recognize? Be honest. Who hasn’t found themselves transforming at least a bit? Extra nose, third eye, monster claws? Losing a trace of their humanity due to coveting something or someone so intensely that it caused them to lose track of who they really were? Maybe it revealed a darker side that wasn’t too flattering. Perhaps just a few blemishes, a couple pointed ears, but admit it . . . for some indefinite amount of time however brief, you must have wanted to act on some motive or ambition to gain what wasn’t yours; to claim what seemed precious and out of reach as your own.

I’m not going to shake a finger and tell you it’s wrong. We have a built-in device known as a conscience that whispers advice into our ears. A tiny warning voice that in most cases unerringly will sound an alarm to caution us against rash judgement and measures. Whether we listen or not is what defines our character. Or, our current state of mind.

In dire straits it is too easy to share a sense of relief at not being the only one with problems. We may acknowledge the slightest twinge of regret after hearing of somebody else’s good fortune while we are feeling low; if we have little of nothing or have lost everything. We might resent the success of those we do not believe earned it. Crave what we allege they have stolen. Or simply wonder: Why them, not me? And vice versa when the bird is in the other hand. Out of our own sense of frustration and fear. Out of love and jealousy, intense dislike. Whatever the reason, this deadly sin can fester and infect us if we do not reassert control and stifle it, shirk it, reject it because we are better than that.

The one who permits it to grow risks a metaphysical Purgatory akin to eyes being sewn shut for the treachery of wishing an ill fate upon others. Or the peepers may adopt an evil unnatural shade of green, the stereotypic emblem of a jealous nature. Insults might be hurled like flaming arrows at the individual who has supposedly taken something or does not deserve the object of desire.

Maligners (whatever their excuse or impetus) often wave “Truth” as a banner, a badge, a blade to inflict wounds. They flaunt it as a pretense to thrust daggers of scorn, attempting to elevate themselves by comparison. The world is rampant with haters and thieves, harpies and sirens, who would destroy your life and rob your soul for their amusement. We can be targeted arbitrarily, without any defense, as they ply their tactics and sling poison-tipped darts, obeying the wicked creature inside. No, it isn’t very nice. But in the end, their twisted faces might get stuck that way. And then they will have to live with the nasty little fiend.

If you’ve ever been the recipient of harsh sentiments, unfair criticism, you know too well that words can wound. Despite our best attempts to shrug them off, they linger. Like four-letter bombs, insults are not harmless, not mere words as some contend. Words — whether to your face, behind your back, typed or etched or handwritten — bear significance. If words are just words and have no meaning, then neither does a story matter. A quote. A line of dialogue in a classic film. Sometimes all we have are words between us: soft, loud, light, weighted, hollow, profound, unspoken, reverberating. They are never “just words”. And to wield them cruelly or carelessly or falsely is bound to leave bruises, possibly scars.

As a writer I’ve been accused of using too many words, too big words, and of making words up. But that is by choice. It is part of my style. Sometimes I say the wrong words when I have to speak, an honest mistake, not for lack of sincerity or trying.

The opposite of envy is kindness, and a kind expression or gesture can go a long way. It can lift a person’s spirit out of the inky morass of despair. If you have the choice, aim high. Don’t surrender to a lowly wretch within. Resist the impulse and spread compassion. Don’t lose sight of yourself. Don’t tread too far. Don’t cross the line or reach for what isn’t rightfully yours. Don’t bite or rip or slice somebody’s face off. And likewise, expect the same in return.