Dinner Thoughts

A couple of weeks ago I was at a gathering, seated in a corner at a small, round table with a rabbit, a dog and a peacock. The rabbit was a timid, middle-aged woman, unremarkable except for a slight twitch and a tendency to blush. The dog was a stout fellow with an immobile face until he barked and his jowls shook. In possession of several higher degrees and heaps of knowledge, the peacock was intent on impressing the rabbit and the dog and me. The conflict between the dog and the peacock frightened the rabbit whose timidity was real and was also a way to control the angry dog and the superior peacock. I must say that the rabbit did elicit in me an urge to rescue but, wisely, I stayed out of it and remained engrossed in my bland plate of food and a quite good martini.

To some extent, we all have facades; to be known is to be vulnerable in a sometimes hostile world. But some facades are so thickly built that an inner self does not come through. This sets up a conundrum: People want to be known and they also do not want to be known. Wanting to be known while remaining hidden is at the root of much anxiety, alienation and loneliness. The rabbit, the dog and the peacock, if they desired to change (know themselves better) would have to, bit by bit, give up fear in the guise of compliance, anger and superiority. That would leave more room for love, the antidote to fear. Hopefully, it would also make for better dining companions.