In a quiet little town, there lived an old sage. His small home was filled with warmth—the soft glow of a lamp and the comforting scent of old books and paper. People came to him for guidance, and somehow, he always found the words that could ease a troubled heart.
But he had a neighbor who couldn’t stand it.
“Why him?” the man would complain.
“His windows stay lit late into the night, all he does is write in those notebooks of his—and yet people respect him more than me, even though I have ten times the wealth!”
One evening, envy finally got the better of him. Blinded by it, he placed a basket of rotting garbage right outside the sage’s door.
The next morning, the old man opened the door, saw the mess—and didn’t get angry. Instead, he quietly emptied the trash, washed the basket until it was spotless, and filled it with the finest, ripest apples from his garden. Then he carried it over to his neighbor’s house.
The neighbor, expecting a confrontation, froze in confusion.
“Why would you bring me this?” he asked. “I was trying to insult you.”
The sage smiled gently and said,
“Because everyone gives what their heart is full of.”
Envy is a poison people drink themselves, hoping it will harm someone else. It steals your peace and slowly dims the light in your own home.
Something to reflect on: Don’t compare your beginning to someone else’s peak.