Who am I really fighting?
Someone tells us about a success. We listen, and somewhere within us a comparison begins. Where do I stand? Am I seen too? Am I enough?
Sometimes we feel happy for them and, at the same time, a little sting. Both can be there in the same moment.
Rivalry often begins almost unnoticed. A conversation becomes a competition. We want to be right, know more, be better. And while we are still talking to each other, we are already occupied with how we come across.
This text was inspired by a talk by the Buddhist teacher Lama Dondrup Dorje, Heart Sutra Demonstration. He describes how much of what we do arises from rivalry – not only between people who dislike each other, but also between partners and among siblings.
Rivalry where we are close
There can be rivalry among friends too. Who gets more attention? Who is closer to whom? We enjoy the friendship and at the same time want to be sure that we matter.
In a family, siblings may pay close attention to who receives more recognition. Between parents and adult children, well-meant advice can become a struggle over who knows best. In a relationship, we may begin to keep score: who gives more? Whose needs have room?
Especially when a relationship means a lot to us, feeling overlooked can hurt. Behind the opposition, there may be a simple wish: to be seen, to belong, to have a say.
When a person becomes an opponent
When we compete with each other, our view can narrow. We mainly see what the other person has, can do or receives. We lose sight of their uncertainty, their effort, their joy.
Behind our comparisons, there may also be a worry about losing out. What matters so much to me here? What am I afraid of losing?
When we notice this, we can take our wish seriously and express it. We can ask for space, set a boundary or say what we are missing. This makes an encounter possible in which there is room for both people.
The image of the other person within me
When I think of someone, I carry an image of them within me. I remember their words, imagine what they think and feel something as I do. Sometimes that image is enough for an old argument to continue inside me.
The person is not even there. Yet I answer them, justify myself or get angry about what they would probably say. The person opposite me in this inner conversation takes shape from my memory and imagination.
Even when they stand in front of me, I encounter their voice and gaze in my perception. The meaning I hear in them, and the feeling that arises, are things I experience within myself. In this way, outside and inside are closely connected in my experience.
Perhaps I then notice: right now, I am fighting my image of this person. What I expect of them. What their words mean to me.
What has happened between us belongs to our relationship. At the same time, it is worth noticing how I carry this relationship on within myself. My image holds experiences with this person. It never encompasses them entirely. They remain someone with a story of their own that I know only in part.
Can this image become a little more open again? Can I let the other person surprise me? I can ask questions, listen and change my image.
What am I defending right now?
I have an image of myself too. Perhaps I see myself as understanding. Then someone says: “You are not listening to me at all.” And straight away I want to prove how well I do listen.
Their words also touch my idea of who I am. While I defend myself, it becomes hard to keep hearing what the other person is missing.
Sometimes we assign fixed roles: I am mindful, you are inconsiderate. I am reasonable, you are difficult. Our differences become a hierarchy. We meet each other through these labels and keep finding something that confirms them.
When I feel attacked, I may notice it first in my body: my breathing becomes shallower, my speech speeds up, my shoulders rise. Then I can pause for a moment and look: what was actually said or done? What meaning am I giving it? And what image of myself am I trying to protect right now?
This can help me find a response. Perhaps a clear boundary is needed. Perhaps a question. Perhaps I can hear something I initially wanted to reject.
The conflict within us
Rivalry exists not only between people, but within us too. One part wants to move forward; another is tired. We long for closeness and need distance at the same time. We want to be brave and resent our fear.
Then we may begin to devalue one side of ourselves. The tiredness gets in the way. The fear should disappear. We have an idea of how we should be and fight against what we are feeling right now.
Sometimes this struggle also turns against our own body. When we are ill, we may wish we could get rid of a part of ourselves: the pain, the weakness, whatever is not cooperating right now. Then the body becomes an opponent.
We can attend to symptoms and, if necessary, have them checked, without treating our own body with hostility.
Even the wish for peace can become a demand in this way: surely I should finally be calm by now.
What would it be like to listen to both sides first? To the wish to achieve something and the need for rest. We do not have to act on every impulse. But we can notice it before we decide how to act.
Even practice can become a competition
In his talk, Lama Dondrup Dorje also speaks about how rivalry can shape our practice: we want to be better, more capable, further along than someone else. In doing so, we bring comparison into a practice in which we seek peace. More practice and more form do not help us move forward then, he says. That is why the classical teaching reminds us of humility.
This can be explored in small ways too. Am I disappointed because someone seems calmer than I am? Does an exercise we do together become an opportunity for me to prove my strength? Can I notice what is happening without turning it into a judgement about my worth?
Another idea in his talk is sincerity: that what we mean inwardly matches our words and actions. In everyday life, these can easily fall apart. We agree to something even though we need a break. We speak kindly, but wrap a dig in our words. This too creates conflict within us.
Noticing it opens up the possibility of becoming more honest. Perhaps we say: I am still upset and need some time. Then we do not have to pretend to be at peace when we do not feel that way.
Running through the talk is an invitation to meet the other person with a sense of connection. For an everyday encounter, this raises a question: can I stand up for what matters to me while keeping the other person’s wellbeing in view?
Taking a moment to notice
If you like, recall a small everyday situation in which you compared yourself with someone or defended yourself.
Feel how you are, right here, right now. Do you notice anything in your body? What thoughts arise? What image of the other person is here right now, and what image of yourself?
Perhaps you can distinguish what you specifically remember from what you assume or expect. Perhaps you can also recognise a wish that had little room in this situation.
You can ask yourself: what do I need right now? And how could I take care of that without making anyone smaller – myself included?
An answer can take time.
A step towards peace
Finding a way out of rivalry can begin with noticing the opposition and following it less. We hear a sentence through to the end. We express a wish. We check an assumption instead of treating it as a certainty. We allow ourselves a break even though we would like to be further along already.
Differences and conflicts still need attention. Distance may also be necessary. Connection leaves room for a clear no.
For me, over the years, there has been less rivalry and a greater connection with life. That is my experience, not a promise. I describe what this has grown from for me in Our inner observer.
Where the images we hold of one another become more open, interest can arise again: how are you? What moves me? What is possible between us?
Perhaps peace begins in a moment like this. When we meet ourselves and the other person with a little more kindness again.