Profound envy

[translated from PT by AI]

Parker Canon, vocalist of the bands The Story So Far and No Pressure, by the age of 23 had already released albums that would have a profound impact on me. Dan Carlin produced the podcast “Hardcore History,” and the quality is so incredible that it scares me.

There are many other examples of people who have produced “artifacts,” art, of profound quality. Art that may be greater than the people who created it, art that is deeply appreciated by many.

Yvon Chouinard left his legacy in the world through the company Patagonia. And, at least it seems to me, that this legacy is extremely positive, or at least extremely less negative than all the other large corporations.

The beautiful way to end this text would be for me to say that I feel inspired. That I also want to leave a legacy of quality like Dan Carlin or Yvon. And in fact, I do feel a bit inspired. The fact that these things exist shows that it’s possible, and if it’s possible, it means that maybe I can do it too.

But I am also human. And I also feel a deep envy. Not of these people’s lives—I don’t know what they did with their lives, I don’t know if I’d want to be in any of their shoes—but of the art, of the ability to execute. I feel a deep envy of the fact that nothing I have done or do has reached that level of quality, that level of legacy.

Curiously, I don’t see this as negative. I obviously don’t hold any resentment toward these people; I would very much like to meet each of them and have coffee or dinner with them. Envy is a natural and powerful feeling; to some extent, it tells me what I would like to be able to do, but haven’t done yet. In that sense, envy is like a compass.

To feel envy—not of the person, not of the person’s life, but of the result that the person was able to produce—seems perfectly reasonable to me. And I believe it helps motivate me.