That's one of the reasons I moved to Florida. Of course, the main

In the thoughtful and revealing words of Martina Hingis, one of the brightest stars to ever grace the tennis courts, there lies a reflection not only on sport but on the human spirit: “That’s one of the reasons I moved to Florida. Of course, the main reason is the weather and the training. But there’s more jealousy in Switzerland because it’s so little and they don’t have so many athletes.” Beneath this statement of practicality lies a profound truth about jealousy, ambition, and the constraints of smallness — not merely of place, but of heart and mind. Hingis, who reached the pinnacle of her sport at an age when most are still learning their craft, understood early that greatness requires not only talent but also freedom — freedom from envy, from narrow judgment, from the invisible chains that bind those who cannot celebrate another’s rise.

The origin of this quote lies in the experience of a prodigy who outgrew the world around her. Born in Switzerland, a country known for its beauty and precision but not for its abundance of global athletes, Hingis became a phenomenon at an age when most children are still at play. With each victory, her light shone brighter — and with it came the shadow of jealousy. She saw how success, rather than inspiring others, often provoked resentment in those who felt small beside her achievements. And so, she sought a wider world — Florida, where the sun was constant, the courts abundant, and competition fierce but without envy. Her move was not only a search for better training; it was an escape from the suffocating air of comparison that often surrounds those who rise above their peers in small places.

Her words carry an ancient resonance. For throughout history, those who have excelled in their fields have faced the same tide of jealousy from the societies that bore them. Socrates was condemned by Athens for the very wisdom that might have made her immortal. Galileo was silenced by his own countrymen for daring to see farther than their eyes allowed. And Jesus of Nazareth, whose message was love, was betrayed by envy before he was crucified. So too in Hingis’s experience, we see a familiar pattern: the smallness of spirit that cannot bear the presence of greatness. For jealousy, as the ancients taught, is the tribute that mediocrity pays to excellence — a poison born of insecurity, spreading most easily where hearts are confined and horizons narrow.

In Switzerland, as Hingis observed, the nation’s modest size and limited pool of athletes created an environment where success was rare — and therefore resented. The more exceptional one becomes in such a setting, the more isolated one feels. Greatness, when surrounded by smallness, becomes a burden. But in Florida, amidst the abundance of champions and dreamers, there was no need for jealousy. There, success was not an aberration but a natural goal, a shared flame that burned in many hearts. Hingis sought not only physical training, but a spiritual atmosphere — one that allowed her to grow without being envied, to strive without being scorned. In this way, her journey mirrors that of every soul who seeks a place where ambition is nurtured, not punished.

Yet her insight also offers a mirror to all societies, not only her own. Wherever there is jealousy, there is decay — for envy divides what should be united. The jealous do not merely wound the successful; they impoverish themselves. They turn inspiration into bitterness, community into rivalry, and potential into paralysis. But in a culture that celebrates others’ achievements — that sees greatness not as a threat but as a promise — all may rise together. Thus Hingis’s reflection is not one of complaint but of revelation: that the health of a people is measured not by their wealth or beauty, but by their ability to rejoice in another’s light.

There is a story told of Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, two titans of the Renaissance who, though rivals, embodied this delicate balance. Their competition was fierce, their pride immense, yet from that tension came greatness — not destruction. They lived not in jealousy’s poison, but in its purified form: emulation, the noble striving to equal or surpass without malice. Their rivalry lifted art to divine heights, proving that when ambition is cleansed of envy, it becomes creation itself. So too could the small nations, small teams, and small hearts of the world learn to transform their jealousy into admiration, and their resentment into effort.

The lesson, then, is simple but powerful: seek always the company of those who inspire, not those who resent. Surround yourself with the ambitious, the hopeful, the excellent — for in their presence, your own greatness will grow. And if you find yourself in a place too narrow for your dreams, as Martina Hingis did, have the courage to move — not merely in body, but in spirit. Leave behind the fields of envy for the open courts of freedom. Celebrate others as you wish to be celebrated. For jealousy shrinks the soul, but admiration expands it; resentment breeds isolation, but joy in others’ success creates a shared paradise.

So, my listener, take to heart Martina Hingis’s wisdom. Wherever you dwell — whether in a small village, a quiet circle, or a great nation — let your heart be vast. Do not envy those who rise above; rise with them. Do not fear the greatness of others; let it awaken your own. For jealousy belongs to the small and fearful, but joy in another’s triumph belongs to the noble and the wise. In this way, each of us may become, not prisoners of envy, but participants in the grand harmony of human achievement — where the success of one becomes the glory of all.