Envy killed the chickens. Or so my Bedouin mother-in-law believed.

There once was a jealous neighbor who came for a visit. Commenting on the large flock of hens pecking away in the courtyard, forgetting to invoke God’s blessing on such wealth, she drew the Evil Eye’s focus, likely unintentionally. The very next day, all forty birds lay talons up, leaving my mother-in-law crying her eyes out.

When I lived in Iran, the Evil Eye was a force to be reckoned with. Esfand seeds were burned on a special metal grate after guests left a home. Turquoise jewelry was worn to protect oneself. Salt was placed in children’s pockets to serve as a talisman. If a mother had many healthy sons, she dressed the youngest as girls. All to deflect the covetous attention of strangers.

Envy, in the form of the Evil Eye, was Kryptonite. Cross its path, and luck, talent, success would be sucked away. Better to disguise these attributes, or hide them, to keep them yours. Iranian society, as a whole, was set up to keep beauty and wealth far from prying eyes.

In many ways, I operated as if I too believed that envy could do me in. I worried that I would lose what was valuable to me if I allowed others to notice my good fortune. I taught my children to blend with a crowd, to avoid being singled out. I eschewed all signs of conspicuous consumption. I worked hard at looking like everybody else. Worse, I downplayed my achievements, or kept them to myself.

I was most comfortable on a level playing field. With all that was precious tucked away.

I was talking to my mother the other day and I got why shining in any way makes me nervous. She was busy describing the latest sins of a tall, glamorous woman she works with in Medora, North Dakota. Jealous of her appearance, my round, stubby mother was, once again, raking her name over the coals. The message being: have what I want, and I’ll hate you til the end of time.

Not long ago I discovered a fascinating woman on Facebook. Her name is Siddiqi Ray and she’s a photographer with a website, http://www.sidray.com Her work holds me spellbound because she seems to see into people’s souls. I don’t know how she does it, but she captures their most beautiful essence. The whole, integral person behind the wall. The person stripped free of defenses, fear, and noise. I often wonder what her lens would reveal about me. This woman who allows people to shine because she shines herself.

What is the difference between my mother and a Sidiqqi Ray? Why does one woman kill chickens, the other celebrate another’s soul?

Here are my theories:

1. It’s that old self worth thing. When we don’t like ourselves, it’s awfully hard to like anybody else.
2. It’s easier to resent someone who has what we want than it is to work on creating it for our selves.
3. People are seen as competition when we’re ruled by a huge sense of lack. There’s only so much to go around. Someone else has a bigger share of the pie.

For years I worried that if I had it all, if I were smart, beautiful, fit, successful, talented, no one—including my own mother—would like me. This fear played out in the form of self-sabotage. If too many good things clicked into place, I’d put on twenty pounds. Or quit my job. Or throw my writing in a closet.

I realized, slowly, that lots of people posses these qualities and still continue to live. That I don’t resent any of them (with, perhaps the exception of Ann Couture, but that has to do with her politics) for the gifts they have been bequeathed, or worked hard to earn.

And working with Kit Furey, exploring my limiting beliefs with NLP, allowed me to come face to face with the remnants of this deeply buried childhood fear: I will only be liked if I remain unremarkable and average.

I ran across a Marianne Williamson quote that speaks to this issue:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I choose to celebrate the accomplishments and gifts of others AND my own. I choose to shine so that you can, too. I say good riddance to the Evil Eye.

Don’t be a chicken killer.  There’s more than enough good to go around.