It's a completely useless emotion - jealousy. I don't go there.

"It’s a completely useless emotion—jealousy. I don’t go there." These words, spoken by Joy Behar, carry the calm wisdom of one who has seen the futility of envy and chosen peace instead. They sound simple, even casual—but within them lies a teaching as old as the human heart: that jealousy is not a fire that warms, but a poison that corrodes. In declaring that she does not “go there,” Behar reveals the discipline of a mind that refuses to be ruled by lesser passions—a decision to live above the murky waters of comparison, and instead, to rest in the clear sky of self-assurance.

To understand her words, we must first confront the nature of jealousy itself. It is born from the illusion of lack—the false belief that another’s light diminishes our own. It whispers that the happiness of others is an insult to our worth. Yet, as the ancients knew, such a feeling is useless, for it changes nothing except the one who harbors it. It steals joy, distorts vision, and turns gratitude to bitterness. It is a fire that burns the vessel in which it is contained. Joy Behar, who has lived her life in the sharp world of public commentary, knows well that in a realm filled with success, fame, and rivalry, envy is always waiting. But she rejects it—not because she is immune to human emotion, but because she recognizes its emptiness.

Throughout history, the wise have warned against jealousy. The philosopher Seneca called it “a tormenting madness that despises the good in others.” Buddha taught that envy binds the soul to suffering, preventing peace. And even in the scriptures, it is said that “envy is the rottenness of the bones.” Yet mankind continues to indulge it, as if pain were a form of sustenance. In Behar’s brief statement, there is a quiet rebellion against this weakness. By calling jealousy “useless,” she strips it of its seductive power. For jealousy thrives on attention; it demands to be felt, justified, and nurtured. But when it is denied this energy—when one simply “does not go there”—it withers into nothingness.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great and his friend Hephaestion. History tells us that Hephaestion loved Alexander dearly, yet lived in his shadow. Lesser men would have envied the conqueror’s fame, but Hephaestion chose loyalty over jealousy. He found purpose not in surpassing his friend, but in serving him faithfully. In the same way, Joy Behar’s words call us to a higher path: to honor others’ success without resenting it, to celebrate another’s joy as though it were our own. For only when envy dies can true friendship, art, and greatness flourish.

There is, too, a spiritual dimension to Behar’s wisdom. Jealousy is the child of comparison, and comparison is the enemy of peace. The one who measures himself against others becomes a slave to circumstance. But the one who looks inward, and measures only against who he was yesterday, becomes free. In this freedom, envy has no place. Behar’s refusal to “go there” is not a denial of feeling—it is the mastery of it. It is the deliberate turning of the mind away from the storm toward the sun. Such control is not born overnight; it is cultivated through reflection, gratitude, and humility.

And so, let her words be heard not as a casual remark, but as a commandment for inner peace: waste no energy on jealousy. It serves no purpose, heals no wound, and achieves no victory. Instead, invest that energy in admiration, in learning, in creation. When you see another’s greatness, let it be a mirror showing you what is possible—not a shadow dimming your worth. Rejoice in the success of others, for every act of sincere joy expands your own capacity for happiness.

Let this then be the teaching passed to all who seek wisdom: Do not go where jealousy dwells. It is a barren land, where the heart grows weary and the soul forgets its abundance. Instead, walk the path of self-contentment and gratitude. Cultivate your own gifts with patience and pride. For as Joy Behar reminds us, jealousy is a useless emotion—not because it cannot be felt, but because it leads nowhere. The wise do not chase it; they outgrow it. And in doing so, they find the freedom to live fully, to love deeply, and to rejoice sincerely in the light of others—without fear that their own will ever dim.