(Just noticed I listed “rejection” twice. Sorry. I really really hate rejection.)
I did it mainly by searching relentlessly for ways to change things, edit things, things both outside and inside him, to somehow move them closer to what he wanted or needed or preferred.
I also taught him tricks.
Coping tricks, like avoiding emotional risks and surprises.
And relationship tricks, like hiding his feelings and obsessing over how others see him.
Even perceptual tricks, like selective memory and blaming and imagining that I can guess the future or read other people’s minds.
None of these works over time. But they gave him a kind of comfort.
We grew close quickly. I became his constant companion, trusted advisor, and — he thought — very best friend.
I meant well. And at times I’ve been useful, even helped him out of some bad spots.
But in the end ours have been an unhealthy relationship.
Why?
Because in the end my need for control set Steve at odds with reality instead of teaching him how to accept and coexist and cooperate with it.
It’s like that with us inner monkeys.
We mean well. We really do.
But we’re kind of, well, stupid.
For example, you may already know that the title Monkeytraps refers to a method used in the East to trap monkeys, where fruit is placed in a weighted jar or bottle and the monkey traps himself by grabbing the fruit and refusing to let go.
That’s my thing. That’s what I do.
I grab on and refuse to let go.
Like I said. Stupid.
One last word:
I’m betting you have one of my brothers or sisters inside you.
You have it as surely as you have fears and anxieties, and a monkeymind that whispers and worries and scares you.
You may not have noticed this secret tenant before.
But look anyway.
As I said, monkeytraps are just invitations. They work because of what we monkey-driven humans do.
We set traps, then reach inside them.
We build cages, then move in and set up housekeeping.
That’s if we define sanity as being in touch with reality.
Monkeymind is anything but.
Preoccupied with memories of the past and projections of the future, it spins a narrative saturated with fantasy and only minimal awareness of what’s actually happening right here, right now.
Anyone who’s tried to meditate knows this narrative all too well.
Never have? Try now:
Sit still.
Close your eyes.
Take a deep breath.
Stop thinking.
Put all your attention on your breathing instead.
Count your breaths.
(Authorial pause while reader counts.)
How far did you get before your counting was interrupted by a thought?