TANGLED UP IN GREEN © 2010 by Michael Raysses
“Going green is easy—getting there is another story.” - My Uncle Tasso
I’ve never had my color chart done so I have no idea what shade I most embody. I have been around long enough, though, to know that I have been angry enough to see red. I’ve been so depressed as to feel the blackest blue, and as a writer I have been responsible for more than my share of purple prose.
But the color green poses an interesting dichotomy for me. Do I address it in its most recent incarnation as the hue du jour within the hearts and minds of those dedicated to recasting the world in its verdant tones? Or do I engage it based on the level of intimacy we have shared these many years? I plead no contest.
My relationship to the color green is long and storied. If it is the color of envy, I arguably qualified as the original not-so-jolly Green Giant. My introduction to Envy, though, came by way of its ugly twin brother, Greed.
As a young kid I had a go-cart. Or to put it more accurately, I had some decrepit two-by-fours that were nailed together with a used vegetable crate that I painted red placed atop them. I affixed four wobbly lawnmower wheels to the two-by-fours, with the front two being attached to a plank that swiveled from a rusty bolt that had a rope connected to it, allowing me to steer it by pulling to one side or the other. And the only way it moved was if somebody pushed it.
Some time after I put my go-cart together, a close friend of mine got a real one. It was a motorized midget-racer with a fiberglass body, and it was all I could think about. After just one ride on his cart, mine became nothing more than a termite’s wet dream. I remember how I felt as I gazed longingly at the object of my desire, wondering if I would have my very own. But though I never got one, somewhere along the line I learned that that acquisition would never be as satisfying as it should have been based on how deeply I thought I wanted it. Unbeknownst to me, this realization not only transitioned me into the realm of envy, it was a telling insight into its intricate design.
I associated greed with tangible goods, which was so much easier to deal with than envy’s gauzy web. As I got older my affection for physical objects waned, replaced by a desire for things that other people had. Had accomplished, that is. If greed was irresistible, envy became implacable.
When I started acting, for instance, I had a friend who was a struggling stand-up comedian. We used to commiserate over the frustrations of being poor, jockeying for chances to perform, and the attendant insecurity of that landscape. He fell on some hard times, had his car repossessed, and needed work. I was able to hire him for some acting gigs at local high schools in which we performed. It wasn’t much, but it was something to keep the dogs at bay.
Then, after we had each moved to Los Angeles, his career began to take off. And very gradually, he began getting opportunities that I had no access to because of his status as a stand-up comedian. It was around that time that I became gripped with envy; the green-eyed monster had now become a serpent twining itself around me like a vine that choked me from understanding myself.
Things escalated. My friend became even more successful and famous, while I began to have doubts about continuing to pursue a career as an actor. Not surprisingly, any achievements I attained felt puny and inconsequential, and even when my friend got me an audition for a show that he was the star and producer of, and I got the job, it felt crushingly lacking.
It was around that time that I began to shift my focus to writing, a move that resulted in me interviewing my friend years later for a movie that he had starred in and was now promoting.
You might think that set of facts would have weaned me from my addiction to envy, but I found out otherwise.
While cruising through a local bookstore recently, there among the latest offerings was a book by my friend. It was put out by a big publishing house and was doing very well. I was now pulled under in a riptide of resentment—I had been working on a book proposal and was immediately overwhelmed with the vilest sense of jealousy.
Thankfully, my involvement with “going green” ran its course as I hit rock bottom that day. That’s when I realized that there was a way out of my blizzard of envy—and the answer, ironically enough, was to be found in the principles of green living.
Author David Allen in his book, Getting Things Done, espouses the following tenets for green living: strive for simplicity, be fair, establish a relationship with your community, aspire to sustainability, assert a plan for your life, and conduct it with transparency.
These are all admirable goals, worthy of as much effort as I can muster. Moving forward, they will challenge me greatly. I’m just more than a little regretful that envy didn’t combat male pattern baldness, didn’t give me a flat stomach, or at least make me seem more worldly. I know a healthy green lifestyle can be created. I see people all around me making it happen for themselves. My problem? I envy them. Which is decidedly Greek to me.
Michael Raysses is a writer/National Public Radio commentator/actor, living in Los Angeles. Email him at MichaelRaysses@hotmail.com.