Lately I've been contemplating the subtle difference between comparison that helps us grow and comparison that disconnects us from ourselves and a recent trip to London got me thinking more deeply about this distinction.
I am always fascinated by how the flood of new information and stimulation of cities affects my mind, especially since I started living in Cornwall over 10 years ago. The contrast of going from a peaceful, natural environment to a built up, frenetic landscape is endlessly fascinating to me. The bombardment of different faces, sounds, smells and energy of cities can feel overwhelming when you've become accustomed to a relatively simple life in the countryside.
I lived in London for many years (and other cosmopolitan cities for that matter) and as a keen traveller I actively seek out new places and experiences, so none of this was entirely unfamiliar on my recent trip. But there was something about this trip that illuminated something I'd never really appreciated before: diversity is a beautiful thing that deserves celebrating but it also asks us to be mindful of the comparison trap.
When we're exposed to more people, more ideas and different ways of living, we naturally gain more context to help us understand ourselves. Through comparison, we begin to discover where we 'fit'. We learn through our environments and through the people we meet - the way they move through life, the books they read, the clothes they wear, the values they embody, the food they eat, the work they do, the way they spend a Sunday afternoon.
All of this becomes information and gives us something to reflect on, sometimes inspiring us to think differently or try something new.
But the comparing mind - or māna* as the Buddha called it - can also lead us down a rabbit hole.
Rather than using comparison as a helpful and illuminating tool, the mind starts using it to highlight our perceived shortcomings. It's so easy to convince ourselves we need those shoes or we need a bigger house when we see other people acquiring these things and enjoying the (albeit short-lived) satisfaction of these material gains. Seeing how other people's lives differ from ours, we might begin to question whether our work is fulfilling enough, whether we're running enough, meditating enough, relaxing enough or simply enough-enough (!)
So much of this is rooted in our deeply human need to belong. Tribalism has always helped us survive but another instinct often creeps in alongside it... competition.
If we perceive someone else's success as a threat - or believe there are only so many opportunities, relationships or resources to go around - it's easy to slip into a scarcity mindset and without even noticing, life starts to feel like a race. Black Friday is perhaps an exaggerated example of this but the same "me versus them" mentality can quietly seep into our everyday thinking in much subtler ways.
Social media, of course, only fuels this fire. We're constantly seeing carefully curated snapshots of other people's lives in technicolour and because that single snapshot shines so brightly, it's easy to forget that we're only seeing one tiny facet of a much bigger picture. So much goes unrepresented on social media. We don't see the mundane chores, the sleepless nights, the grief of losing someone we love or the self-doubt that surfaces every now and then. These very "human" moments rarely make it into reels.
With all this said, the creative explosion of London is something that brings me to life and I revel in the openness that cities have to offer. Everything goes. Anyone can be anything. There is something incredibly liberating about that energy and cities seem to embody the limitless potential of human creativity, reminding us just how many different ways there are to live a meaningful life.
Perhaps that's why I find cities and meditation retreats such interesting opposites. One floods the senses with possibility; the other strips everything back. Both have something valuable to teach us. One invites us to explore the world around us, while the other invites us to explore ourselves.
One of the reasons we're intentionally starved of stimulation on a meditation retreat (no phone, no books, no writing materials) is because stimulation keeps the mind occupied. When our senses are constantly being fed, there's very little space to simply observe ourselves.
Silence creates that space and allows us to hear our own voice again, beneath all the noise of who we think we should be. Perhaps that's why I came away from London feeling so reflective... The more I appreciate other people for who they are and the more I celebrate the ways we're different from one another, the easier it becomes to appreciate myself too.
Because the world needs all of us. Every single one (including the people we struggle to understand or get irritated by).
Each of us has something unique to contribute. Whether it's the way you paint, your knowledge of tectonic plates, the kindness you show to strangers, your love of Bengal cats or your ability to play the piano with your eyes shut, there is something only you can bring into the world.
Daisaku Ikeda, the Buddhist philosopher, expressed this beautifully in this piece of prose:
The cherry tree is a cherry tree; a peach a peach. We don't all have to be cherries; just as trees bloom in their own distinct way, we should strive to live in a way that is most natural for us... Your individuality is a single treasure that only you possess.
So whether you're a peach or a cherry tree, remember that both are wonderful!
Buddhism teaches us that our individuality isn't something to overcome or smooth out but something to cherish. Life has its own way of moving through each of us and becoming more fully ourselves is a way to honour that.
Perhaps that's what authenticity really is… not striving to be different but having the courage to stop comparing in order to discover who we actually are.
*In Buddhism, māna translates to pride, arrogance or conceit. It represents the mind's habitual tendency to measure, compare and rank oneself against others (feeling superior, equal or inferior). This constant comparison strengthens the illusion of a solid ego.
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