Fairy Tales # 29: Above Average

In a certain town there lived a man named Tom, and he was of average height, average intelligence and average salary. Having learned this from the statistics, Tom was very upset and decided to become above average.

To begin with, he stood on a stool. It felt better, but not for long, because his neighbour David also stood on a stool, and his stool was taller.

Then Tom said that David was stupid. At once Tom felt that he had become a whole head smarter, and David, accordingly, a whole head stupider. David replied that Tom was a bad driver. Tom really was a bad driver, but it was impossible to prove, because he took care never to drive where anyone could see him.

By evening both were standing on stools, both were above average and both hated each other.

The news came on television, and it turned out that the average had grown by two stools over the day, and now Tom and David were average again.

Tom went to the shop and bought a stepladder. David went to the shop and bought a ladder. Their wives, meanwhile, were comparing which of them was the better mother. The children, not to be left behind, compared the wives. The dog compared itself with the cat and found that it was above average in fur.

A week later Tom climbed onto the roof. David climbed onto the chimney. Television reported that the average had risen to roof level, and the presenter said so standing on a table.

Then Tom jumped. For one moment he was higher than everyone in town, and he felt good. Then he fell and broke his leg.

At the hospital the doctor looked at the X-ray and said that the fracture was quite ordinary. Average. Tom burst into tears. The doctor thought for a moment and added that, mind you, yesterday he had had a patient whose leg was far worse. Tom felt better at once and fell asleep.

David is still sitting on the chimney.

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The subtext. Self-esteem built on comparison can never be stable: for me to be higher, someone has to be lower, and that someone is thinking exactly the same. Buddhism calls this pride, one of the main afflictions of the mind, and counts the habit of measuring ourselves by other people among the “eight worldly concerns”: praise and blame, fame and obscurity keep the mind on a leash. The stools get taller, the average floats away, and nobody gets any happier.

The way out is not to end up higher than everyone, but to stop measuring: to treat ourselves with the same kindness we would show anyone else with a broken leg. That is self-compassion, and it does not care whether you are average or not.