Compared to whom?

The morning newscaster, in her perky, energetic, animated, manner said into the camera, "Wow! How low can gas prices go?" (Yes, she was referring to 2008, not 1968.) Continuing on in her I've-had-way-too-much-coffee-and-golly-isn't-life-grand delivery, she elaborated, "Oil prices have dropped 32 straight days, bringing the cost at the pump down to a national average of only $3.74 per gallon. Better fill up while you can, we don't know how long these low prices will last."

Aside from the fact that in my burg, we're well north of four bucks, it prompted several synapses to spark inside that crusty old gray place betwixt my ears.

Let's recap. Twelve months ago, we were shelling out about $2.77 for the exact same petrol now costing over 30 percent more. However, since the price is being compared to its pinnacle, about 40 cents higher, we (or at least the vivacious newscaster) are thrilled about "low prices." Should one possess a "gas tank-half-full" viewpoint, I suppose it is beneficial for our collective pocketbook. Peculiarly, we didn't feel so tickled when gas was at this same price heading up.

Humans analyze; all things must be classified in relation to something else. In the gasoline scenario, the "low price of gas" is "low" because it is juxtaposed to what was "exorbitant." If no system by which to contrast something exists, we become flustered, unsure where to "put it;" and then create our own standards.

Each morning, my habit is to analyze my profile in the mirror. Why? It never looks very different from the previous day. Yet (full disclosure alert) I'm not really even viewing my entire body; focusing only on my stomach. Understand; if it appears flatter than yesterday, I feel successful. If not, I get to lambaste myself about my bad choices. Compare. Contrast. Act accordingly.

That's not my only judgment. At the same moment, I am also analyzing the effects of my fifty-some years of choices to others'. "Yick," I moan to myself, attempting to suck in my middle, "How come I don't look like Mike Phelps when he's not wearing a shirt?" Of course, if I spent every waking second of every moment every year of my entire life working like he has - and I was 30 years younger - I might look more similar. Don't muddle up issues with facts.

This compulsion to measure ourselves is not completely detrimental. Optimistically, maybe it's the kernel of the seed that drives us to grow, develop, achieve, and improve the patch of life in which we reside. Restated; we compare where we are to where we can be; and off we go!

Most often however, it's just plain obstructive.

We compare and analyze our vision of beauty to unrealistic standards in airbrushed magazines. We analyze our relationships through the fog of exaggerated tabloid gossip. Even achieving healthy habits becomes a race against all others engaged in the same pursuit; always assuming others are better. Tossing away our victories, striving to remain at par with the fictitious "they," we turn our backs on that precious, unique, gifted, powerful soul we actually are, in exchange for something unnecessary or even impossible to obtain.

I will never get to be Mike Phelps. Then again, he will never get to be me.