In the end, it all comes back to food.
Food might be one of the only religions worth having.
We were sitting out at a bar together. The music was loud. It was a weekend evening. I'd just gotten home from some time on the road and was happy to see her.
I'd met her years ago when she was dating a friend of mine and, though their relationship ended, she and I became very close in a way I don't think either of us anticipated when she first appeared in my living room years ago with my friend.
My friend, we'll call her Jane, was melting down.
"I haven't eaten in 24 hours," she said.
After a long dry spell of being convinced she'd never find another woman to date, she'd met someone. They'd gone on nine dates and things had gone incredibly well. But then the other woman had told her that she could feel where things were going but that she'd just gotten out of a long term relationship and wasn't feeling ready for anything exclusive and wanted to continue to date others.
It had sent my friend reeling into a pit of insecurity and depression. And, as is often the case, matters were made worse by her feeling like her reactions were disproportionately large. She'd tried to communicate what was going on for her but it had only made things much worse and the woman she was seeing had backed away. Communication had gone from easy and fun to awkward.
"What do you think it's about?" I asked.
"Maybe it's a self worth issue?" she said and shared some of her feelings and thoughts surrounding that.
"Maybe it is. But it might not have anything to do with self worth."
She sat up. "Oh?"
I understood. I remember years ago meeting a woman by whom I was so viscerally struck that it sent me reeling. I'd popped by the Black Dog Freehouse to see if anyone I knew was there and saw a friend of mine sitting there with her friend. As soon as I sat down and looked at her, I had the rare experience of feeling impacted and utterly undone. We spoke a bit and I asked her out on a date which had gone incredibly well. And then, over the next few days, I heard nothing from her. I completely melted down inside.
"What is going on?" I had wondered. "I barely know this woman and I can't stop checking my phone."
Over the next few days, I began to track my thoughts to see where the source of my unsettledness and neediness was coming from and, in so doing, was introduced to a nest of thoughts woven together by that strange bird of loneliness we all carry in our hearts in these modern times and feed our attention until it crowds our heart so much that the blood can barely flow and we can barely hear our own heart or thoughts over the ruckus it makes with its cawing and beating of wings. Or maybe the bird isn't in us at all but has done its best to make a home for us out of the few thorny branches that remain and brings us scraps from the table of this increasingly mad, over-processed world with her rapidly eroding topsoil of community and village-mindedness. Or maybe it's a nest in a tree we visit because someone told us that this was a throne worthy of worshipping at. I don't know.
"First of all," I said. "This is all deeply cultural. What is it that makes it seem like a good idea to find 'home' in another person? Why do we put all of our eggs in these romantic baskets? Because there are no other baskets. This is all happening in the wake of the loss of village. Where are the women's circles, the growing of food, the making things by hand, the elders who feed us... It leaves us emotionally and spiritually starving and so we try to turn the other person into our village and it's too much for them to bear."
"But, on the personal level, in my experience," I told my friend sitting there at the bar. "It's never the experience that upsets us. It's so confusing. Something seemingly small happens and, inside, we have a volcanic reaction to it. It makes no sense. Small stimulus and huge response. They don't call. Or they tell you that they want to date others and, it's only been two weeks but... it ruins you. How could it be? This is what makes it worse. Not only do you have the initial impact but now there's also the shame of feeling like you're over-reacting; that you shouldn't be so upset by what happened. But, in my experience, it's never what happens that upsets us. It's what it means to us. It's our thoughts about the thing. When you look at the incident, there's no logic but, if you were to look at the list of everything you're telling yourself this means? Your reaction makes total sense. Because it happens and then all the thoughts appear... 'But we need to be together,' 'This is supposed to work out!' 'If she leaves me it will be months or years until I meet someone where there's such a fit!' or 'I'll never meet anyone again and I will die old and alone.' All those thoughts appear but they appear so quickly and under the radar that we don't even realize they're there... Or we don't realize they're thoughts. We think they're reality."
She nodded, reflecting on what I'd said.
"So, my question is: what's most upsetting about this for you? So she said what she said but... so what? What does it mean to you? What are you telling yourself."
"Well... that she might not choose me."
I nodded. "Right. But so what? What might it mean if she doesn't choose you?"
"That I'm not good enough."
"So, 'If she doesn't choose me, then that means that I'm not good enough.' That's the general idea. That thought appears and we never question it. But... is it true?" I asked her.
She sat with it for a few seconds, "No."
"Right. You can't know if that's true. It could be but you don't know that. But what we can know is that impact that this thought has on us. So, what happens inside of you when you think this thought?"
The answer to this question is no mystery. You could answer it yourself if you were to reflect on what it does to you too. We leave the present moment and get trapped in the past or some imagined future. We become obsessed with doing whatever we can to make sure the other person chooses us. We manipulate. We feel insecure. We are filled with fear. We shut down.
"And who would you be without this thought?" I asked.
She immediately relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. "I'd be so much more relaxed and fun to be around again."
"You know, as far as I have figured out, the mind is not a seeking mechanism, it's finding mechanism. It always finds proof for what it believes. The idea is like this table top and the proof is like the legs underneath it than make it study. When we have a thought that we don't question, the mind immediately begins looking for proof for it. And it finds it. It always finds something to back it up. But you can use this to your advantage by twisting that original stressful thought in other ways and asking your mind to find proof for it. It's so strange how quickly a thought can become a monotheistic religion where it, and only it, can be true. A thought is a like a moon with a gravitational pull to it and it draws in asteroids."
I am remembering being in Victoria at a friend's house for a house concert. In the kitchen was a table that, upon closer examination was basically a solid block of wood.
"Is this hollow?" I asked him.
He shook his head. This is solid maple, joyced and glued together. It weighs about 250 lbs." He slapped the top of it and you could hear it. I leaned in closer, amazed at the work and how perfectly fit together, like puzzle pieces it was. I pushed at it and was amazed by the weight.
Some table tops are heavier than others. Some thoughts, like, "I'm not good enough," are a big deal. Others are thin particle board.
What my friend was dealing with was closer to the former. I've heard some people say that the core wounds most people, at least in this dominant culture, deal with are: "I'm not good enough," and "I'm not good enough to be love."
Our food arrived and we dug in. Fuck I was hungry. I don't know what it is about travel but I can eat a large meal, get on a plane for a couple of hours, land and be ready for another large meal.
"So," I say, bulgogi beef taco in hand. "Could it be just as true, if not more true, that "Her not choosing you does not mean that you're not good enough"? Could it be that it just doesn't mean that?"
She agreed.
These days, our world have shrunk to the size of our yoga matts and meditation cushions as we try to 'self-sufficient' our way through life. We try to figure it all out on our own. And it's madness. The Irish have a fine saying, "Is maith an scáthán súil charad". It means, "A friend's eye is a good mirror."
Today, I am clear and she's struggling but tomorrow it might be her who's feeling more clear and I might go off the deep end of whatever my current self-absorption is. That's what was happening here. Her being willing to have her situation and troubles seen through another's eyes rather than being lost forever in her own reflection. We get lost in ourselves sometimes and we need the companionship (a word that means 'with bread') of shared food and conversation to make it through our days.
But maybe our thoughts need our companionship too. Maybe they need the food of our attention too.
"And could it be that her not choosing you might actually be a sign that you are good enough?”
She sat back in her chair in the way we all do when someone offers us a though that we'd never considered before that we can sense has truth in it somewhere that we can't discern. She looked to the table and furrowed her brow trying to find how this might be true. A table top in search of legs and not being able to find any solid enough to rest it on.
"What if her leaving you was a divine sign, the best benediction you're likely to receive, that you are absolutely good enough?"
"But how?... I don't see it."
"Well," I offered and normally I'd encourage the other person to sit with it themselves longer but, being in a noisy bar and late for a show we were headed to, I offered some possibilities. "Maybe it could be that this is a sign of how much she respects you and sees your goodness that she'd even be willing to be so honest with you. Maybe this is her saying, 'You're so good that I won't fuck with you. I'll be straight with you about where I'm at rather than cheating on you or disappearing or simply not talking about it." I could tell that this had never occurred to her in this way. "It could also be that this is the Universe taking care of you and saying, 'She's too good for this woman. She deserves better. Let's contrive to end this pronto so that she can find someone more worthy of her goodness.' I'm not saying that's true. But what I am wondering is why is the original thought more true? Why does the thought, 'If she doesn't choose me, then I'm no good' get to be the religion?"
"Could it also be that her not choosing you means that she's not good enough?"
My friend smiled.
"You know, just on a friend level I might say to you, "What the fuck Jane. You deserve better than someone whose not totally into you. You've gone on a bunch of dates now. She gets how amazing you are and she's still not convinced? Fuck that noise. If she doesn't choose you then something's wrong with her taste. If she can't see that you're a Queen, then I say 'no'."
She laughed at this.
"Again, I'm not saying this is true. But why is the first thought so much more true?"
"And could it be that if she does choose you that this might be evidence of some other things beyond that you're good enough? Does her choosing you inevitably mean you're good enough? Is this really the most trustworthy sign you could imagine?"
"No! She might just be staying because she feels sorry for me."
"Yes!" I told her the story of how author Tony Robbins had known, at the altar with his first wife Becky, that it was wrong but that he went ahead with it because he didn't want to disappoint her. "It could be a sign that she's settling. That she's scared she won't find someone she really wants and so she chooses you. Could be a sign of a rebound. Could be a sign of her being rejected by who she really wants and you're easy and available. Why is it automatically, and unquestionably, a sign that you're not good enough? Why is that meaning enthroned?”
I could see she was feeling better and we asked for the bill.
"But, couldn't it also be that this has literally nothing to do with your value at all and whether or not you're good enough? Couldn't it be that this is simply a matter of whether or not it's a fit between you both - self worth and your deep, intrinsic value not included? It might be that simple. You're wanting different things. But, if you believe that your value hinges on her choosing you... you'll manipulate to get a situation that, in reality, isn't what you want. Do you want a partner who wants to date other women still and who isn't ready for a relationship?”
She shook her head.
"But that's what you've got here. That's the reality. She's not ready to settle down, or not with you. So there's the 'her' in your mind who you imagine a future with and then there's her in reality. And the real one just might not be a fit."
We paid our bill and began walking through the Edmonton Summer night to the venue.
"I feel better. Thank you for that."
I smiled at that.
I know the feeling.
I've wrestled enough of these bears that I know something of what she's feeling right now. Relaxed. Present. More peaceful. Lighter. This feeling doesn't come from replacing one religion ('if she doesn't choose me I'm no good') with another ('if she doesn't choose me, she's no good!'). That's the same old game. It's still monotheism. The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen. How many revolutions end up recreating the exact same thing they sought to depose? How many revolutionaries become worse tyrants than the one they resisted because their manner of resistance was tyrannical?
It seems to me that a proper approach to these thorny nests of thoughts in which we find ourselves may not be to replace it with a new nest, but, stand by stand if that's what it takes, to walk that nest over to the compost pile at the center of what might one day become a village and to compost it. This nest isn't nothing. It's food too.
"How do I get rid of this thought?" was a question Jane asked me early in the night. We discard too much in this culture with our collective insanity that anything that displeases us can be wrapped up in the plastic bag of our obsession with purity and thrown away. But this nest isn't nothing. This nest can feed something if we let it. This nest that is slowly killing us can turn back into the chance for life to appear again amongst us. The nest isn't the end of our life, it's the food that might yet give our life a chance.
How does it feed anyone else if we wrap up our thoughts and throw them away rather than engaging in the hard labour or planting and tending to them to see what they might become? Perhaps life is begging us to stop throwing things away and to start admiring and learning them.
I say to my friend as we walk down the street, past the Strat (home of cheap beer, newly discovered by every generations of university student every year) and across Whyte Ave towards the Almanac where my friend is playing, "A Cree friend of mine told me that his elders told him that our minds are supposed to be fluid. Not concretized. Not rigid. But when we have one thought that we believe is the truth, when we have one idea that never goes questioned, everything ossifies. The point isn't to know what's true. It's to be baffled by it. To feel wonder. As near as I can tell it, the truth isn't any particular thought, it's what we experience when the tyrant thoughts that have ruled us too long are temporarily not in charge anymore."
Life is a very fine thing when we're willing to set aside our entrenched opinions about it and see it for what it is.
"And this is all still deeply cultural. These thoughts of a lack of worthiness aren't so present or strong in other cultures. There are cultures who aren't wracked by the same neuroses that we have. Most of these stressful thoughts are inherited you know? It's not personal. But, if we don't understand that, we can feel like there's something wrong with us. That we're broken. It's amazing we do as well as we do."
The next day, my friend marvelled at how one small thought could do so much damage and throw us off the existential deep end.
A strange mystery:
If we don't offer our thoughts our deep companionship, they eat at us and may make us unable to eat for 24 hours.
If we don't offer the troubles of our times an honoured seat at the table; just one they will take over the whole thing.
If we don't attend to those handed down to us voices of our old timers, then those voices become the 200 lb table at which we eat; the carefully joyced together, solid maple fallout of years of ancestral trauma and dislocation and we will eat all the meals of our days from its solid surface, never questioning that solidity, never imagining there was a time when it was not so or that there could be a time or place where it wasn't.
The thoughts and suffering we avoid most, that cause us the most pain (a word that looks much like the French word for ‘bread’) are the bread we might eat together, this feast of co-misery, and shared humanity.
The sound of companionship might be something like, ‘You too?’
A good friend is someone who can ‘sing your soul’s song back to you when you’ve forgotten the lyrics.’ This idea of reclaiming deep aspects of self-ness within community (even in just a meeting of two) is so obvious in its simplicity and yet profound in its impact, in particular when it comes to releasing a ‘thought religion’ and rediscovering a wider truth. So enjoyed reading this piece Tad. 🙏🏽