Who Would You Invite to Dinner?

You’ve probably had this question asked you:

If you could invite a famous person to dinner, who would it be?

When I’m asked this, Winnie-the Pooh always springs to mind. Or my high school English Literature teacher, Lawrence Lockwood. Perhaps the Jesuit poet-priest Gerard Manley Hopkins would provide interesting conversation, although I hope he wouldn’t speak to me in sprung rhythm.

Then again, if I really want to get something out of the evening besides my mouth gaping open with wonder at the wisdom of the person sitting opposite me, I’d opt for Byron Katie. She’d make me do the talking.

If I had her over for dinner, I’d have to answer her four razor-sharp questions in relation to a belief that is hurting me but which I continue to hold onto with grim tenacity.

I imagine her coming to my place for dinner.

‘So, hello, Marlane,’ she says with her warm smile as we consume home-made pumpkin soup, ‘What belief is causing you suffering?’

After choking on a crouton, I mentally scan my beliefs. I’ve dropped quite a few over the decades. For instance, I no longer believe I’ll be whisked off to Petra on the back of an eagle to await the return of Christ. Nor do I believe I’ll never have grandchildren because I now have six. Hmm. What current belief is hurting me?

‘Um, well, you’ve probably heard this one before, but here goes. I believe that I haven’t been the best person I could’ve been.’

‘Is that true?’ She tips her head sideways, just like the curious and friendly grey fantail does when I talk to it as it perches on the birdbath.

‘Yes,’ I reply emphatically. ‘There are so many things I did or said that I shouldn’t have, and so many things I didn’t do or say that I should have.’ I flick her a look to see how she’s taking it. She’s still smiling. I give a sheepish smile back.

‘Can you absolutely know that is true?’

As I open my mouth for a quick affirmative, she puts up a refraining hand and says, ‘Take your time. Go deep with this.’

I silently remove the soup bowls, then serve lemon-and-pepper-crumbed skipjack with potato and pumpkin mash along with a salad made from an assortment of leafy greens from the garden.

‘I never intentionally hurt anyone,’ I say, taking my seat again. ‘It’s only when I look back that I see I could have done better, been a more considerate person. But that belief still lingers.’

‘How do you feel when you believe that thought?’

‘Terrible,’ I say, forking in pumpkin mash now tasting like ashes and mull over my failing younger self. ‘It’s like there are a lot of hurt people lined up behind me and it’s all my fault.’ I sigh loudly.

‘How would you be without that thought?’

I pick up tongs and help myself to salad. It looks delightfully healthy with the quartered tomatoes and small pieces of roasted pumpkin tossed throughout the greens.

‘If I didn’t have that thought I wouldn’t feel so stressed when I lie in bed at night, unable to sleep from stewing over it all. I’d be happier. Feel lighter.’ As I consume salad, my scowl, which has been deepening with this discussion, eases.

‘When I think about it, that belief doesn’t help me, nor does it change the past. It just burdens the present. It’s probably causing me to muck up situations currently arising because I’m not trusting myself to act in the best way possible now, because of how I’ve been judging my past performances. But truly, I was doing my best at the time, based on what I knew then. However, that doesn’t change the damage I’ve done.’

I push away my half-eaten salad, feeling depressed again. When my guest has finished her salad I serve us both a slice of pumpkin pie with a generous portion of whipped cream. Resuming my seat, I look at my slice askance, my appetite gone.

‘Why don’t you turn that thought around?’ Byron Katie urges.

‘What thought?’ I’ve had so many in the past half hour that it’s hard to know to which one she’s referring.

‘Your original one. I haven’t been the best person I could’ve been.’

I mentally play with the turnaround as I take a tentative bite of pie topped with cream.

‘I guess it would be that I have been the best person I could’ve been.’

‘Well, say that then,’ she encourages.

‘I have been the best person I could’ve been.’ I start crying and use a napkin to soak up the tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say between sobs ‘I know it’s rude to cry at the dinner table.’

‘Since when? Where did that belief come from?’ She pauses. ‘No, forget it. We have enough to go on with. Look at that belief after I’ve gone.’ She laughs.

After my sobs subside I take another bite of pie. ‘I have been the best person I could’ve been,’ I repeat, liking the sound of it ‘What a kind belief that is. And a true one. I did the best I could at that time. I can be different now because I know better. The past can’t be undone. All I can respond to is what’s happening now.’

‘Can you think of another turnaround?’

This pumpkin pie is yummy. I’m tempted to pick up the plate and lick it but restrain myself because of my famous guest.

‘Mmm, let’s see. How about, Everyone is always being the best they can be. That takes judgement out of my life. And an extension of that is, Everything that happens is the best that can happen at the moment.’

Byron Katie looks pleased. I’m glad I invited her. I’m sure Winnie-the-Pooh would have imparted many winsome witticisms, but she has helped me slough off an almost life-long mental burden.

‘Would you like another slice of pie?’ I ask.

‘No thanks.’ She pauses, then adds, ‘You also seem to have a strong belief in the beneficial effects of the consumption of a great deal of pumpkin.’ She counts them off with her fingers. ‘Pumpkin soup. Pumpkin mash. Pumpkin salad pieces. Pumpkin pie.’

‘Yes, ‘I reply. ‘We grew twenty-five this year and we’re steadily working through them all. Every time family members come down for a visit they go home with one in their car boot. We’re all slowly turning a pale shade of orange. Would you like to take one home with you?’

‘Thank you, but I doubt Australian Customs will let me take it onboard. Even if they did, I don’t think it would get through American Customs. And anyway, I believe I’ve had enough pumpkin to suffice me for the rest of my life.’

‘Ah!’ I quip. ‘Is that true? Can you absolutely know it’s true? How do you feel when you believe that thought? What would you be without that thought? Turn that thought around.’

(My sincere apologies to Byron Katie for putting words in her mouth.)

Using Byron Katie’s series of questions to address crippling beliefs is a wonderful experience.

Let me know what happens.