My Own Worst Enemy

There’s a hilarious video of a dog on a sofa chewing on a bone. As his hind leg slowly moves towards the bone, the dog starts growling, barks! then tries to bite it. What? The leg then pulls away and the dog goes back to the bone. Slowly, slowly, the hind leg inches forward. Again, the dog growls and attacks.

Can’t a fellow enjoy a bone in peace around here?

It reminds me of what happens every time we say, “my car,” “my company,” or “my shirt.” We imagine that we have to protect it, stay on the defensive. We imagine that we can be harmed, that we are somehow under attack.

Even if we’re just with friends, there’s some weird part of us that imagines that someone might trying to take “it,” to hurt “it,” to harm “it,” whatever it is. We might start barking at them. We might even end up sending these friends away. Or our family. Or our business associates.

It’s part of some strange mindset we create whenever we try to cut off something from the universal whole and call it “mine.”

It’s like our hind leg wants there to be an enemy. Even when there isn’t one.

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