LIVE BY DESIGN | ‘To Life with Love’ – What life might look like when comparison is not the thief of joy

While driving and listening to the radio, I heard the guest make a statement that he believed to be powerfully true for himself: “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I found myself thinking about this statement long after the journey was over.

This aphorism, “Comparison is the thief of joy,” is attributed to Theodore Roosevelt, the 26th president of the United States. American writer Mark Twain offered an alternative version, “Comparison is the death of joy.” They are both such pithy, thought-provoking sayings. I asked myself; do I think them to be true?

According to research cited by Psychology Today and published in 2023, more than 10% of our daily thoughts involve making comparisons.

A friend recently passed me her mobile to show me a photo of the sleek new high-end car that will be delivered to her in the New Year. She expressed her joy of anticipation of driving this “sexy” new vehicle—her choice of descriptive word, not mine. I’m pleased for the joy she already feels. Vehicles don’t generally do it for me, although I confess to the pleasure of breathing in the smell of new leather upholstery.

I feel deep satisfaction when driving my trusty SUV steed, which has power steering, a turbo engine, and a great boot capacity. My comparatively boring car completely fills my heart’s desires.

My younger self drove some dubious vehicles – a car in Mozambique, imported second-hand from Swaziland. The paperwork declared it to be a Model 1300. The parts I ordered were never right. We eventually discovered it was a Model 1500 rebuild!

I guess I am making comparisons! I’m indeed happy because I remember that time when I didn’t have enough money to buy a newer, more reliable car. My older self-treasures the economic privilege of being able to buy a new car.

On reflection, I realise that what would be more accurate for me is that envy is the thief of joy. And envy is very personal. I envy tall women. I envy the owners of those expensive light aluminium bicycles! I am envious of families where three generations live in the same city. I miss my girls, who are not living close by. I’m sad to see grandchildren only sporadically.

However, I’d like to propose that comparison can be very constructive. So much depends on ways of looking at things, the proverbial glass half empty versus glass half full. My husband and I took three flights this month to meet up with our Brooklyn family in Mexico: Johannesburg to London, London to Dallas, and finally, Dallas to Cancun.

On each of the three flights, we walked towards the back of the plane, passing through business class and premium economy. Those fat armchair-like seats with their footrests look so comfortable! Onwards to the back, we get to the “world traveller economy.”

Here’s the half-full upside: First, we have enough money to buy international flight tickets when tickets cost an arm and a leg at this time of year. Second, my husband and I are both short, slender people, better able than many to fit into those narrow economy seats with limited legroom. I call it sardine travel! Third, the joy of family reunion makes it all worthwhile. It can matter a lot to have a glass-half-full perspective. Recently, I listened to a read-through of a script for an upcoming play, To Life with Love. South African playwright Mike Vaan Graan recently penned the script, which will first be performed in Cape Town in early February 2025.

The lead character of To Life with Love receives a diagnosis that he has a life-threatening disease. He decides to make a video recording of his end-of-life wishes. The play tracks his moods as he reflects on his life. His initial mood is anger. He rants and raves, unhappy that this disease can be happening to him.

How do we face the news of a life-threatening diagnosis? Such circumstances are the original source of Swiss-American psychologist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s research work. She studied terminally ill patients. Her observations led her to develop her theory on the stages of dying: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

I do not want to do a “spoiler alert,” but for Mike Van Graan’s character, acceptance becomes his anchor for finding continuing joy in whatever time is left for him to live. And at the heart of his acceptance is comparison. The comparison is anchored in gratitude. There is an appreciation for what life has richly offered and an acknowledgement of those who’ve been dealt a worse hand of cards.

“To Life with Love!” That will be my toast as we welcome in 2025.

Whatever comes my way, the way of my family and friends, I hope that we will permanently be anchored by our gratitude for what we have. I hope that comparison will never be the thief of our joy!