My friend was antsy to travel, but after asking everyone in our social circle, she couldn’t find anyone who would agree to be her travel partner. Finally, she asked me. She expressed her longing to see the world, and her disappointment that since her divorce, she had no one to join her.  She told me of her deep desire to spend time with me, to feel connected. She was so earnest, so desperate — I didn’t want to go, I worried that our relationship might come under strain (it has been strained in the past), I worried we would fight and someone could get hurt, but, against my better judgment, I ultimately agreed. I wanted to make my friend happy, I wanted her to feel satisfied. I wanted to be the hero –the good friend– that made my friend’s wishes come true.

I carefully planned out the trip. I planned activities around her interests, I planned food around her vegan diet, I ran the whole thing by her before any arrangements were finalized, she said she was happy, excited, at least until the trip actually arrived. Then, the unhappiness set-in. She wanted more –more food options, more activities, more time with me and, most of all, she wanted me to enjoy the same things she enjoyed, even though I just didn’t.  I had planned all this to satisfy her, but she was still hungry. I felt like a failure. A disappointment. And when the scolding and fighting got fierce, I felt like the anti-hero, who had stumbled (eyes wide open mind you) into a situation where everyone was getting burnt.

But, as the trip wore on, I started to notice  more and more ways my friend wanted more. She ate and ate, but even after desert, she still wanted more. She would run us ragged all day, but still wanted to hit a club at night, even as she fell asleep in the Uber on the way. She stayed at every museum till closing time and complained when the staff kicked us out. She tried to find new hiking trails when paths ended, thinking there were still more trees in the park to explore.

For years, my relationship with this friend was strained because we got into the same pattern again and again –I wanted to prove I was a good friend by making her happy. She was generally unsatisfied with my efforts, or her satisfaction was fleeting, and she wanted more. I felt exhausted. Like a failure. But instead of just walk away, I tried to prove my worth by scheming a new plan to make her happy. All the while both of us chaffed, and fought as this pattern played out.  Suddenly it dawned on me that my friend’s insatiability was it’s own pattern, that it didn’t necessarily have to do with me (not saying at times I didn’t contribute, just that I was not the ultimate cause).

A T-shirt I had seen years ago popped into my head: It was the image of a little hummingbird  with a thought bubble that read, “Things will be different when I learn to breathe fire”.  Eric and I joked that that little hummingbird was my ‘totem animal’, that it captured my personality to a T. I am always striving, always trying to force the world to my will. I want to fix things –my friend’s unhappiness, the filth of NY, the exploitation of animals for food, the aging of my body, my failure to a ‘good’ alana all the time, people’s rudeness and carelessness, injustice in this world — and with just a little more effort, time, a new hack or skill, somehow I am going to make it different. That is me, a special little hummingbird just practicing and trying and waiting for the day I can breathe fire, change all the things I hate in this world.

Everything in this world that happens, happens in accord with the rules of the world. Everything has a cause. But I want things to follow my rules. I want ‘fixes’ without understanding causes, without without understanding the nature /rules of the world upon which all causes are based (impermanence, no self, suffering).  I want to make a friend satisfied, when the cause of her dissatisfaction lies in her. When dissatisfaction is a tenant of this world’s suffering. I want to fix it to prove myself, to be a true friend, to be the hero, to be the master of this world, and in the process, I suffer –I plan, I scheme, I try, I work, I get angry, I feel hurt — I hurt others (that I care about deeply, like my friend), and I create new cycles of debt and consequence as I play out the drama of ‘Alana The Great Fixer’.  But are hummingbirds ever going to learn to breathe fire? The shirt is funny because everyone knows its impossible. Why on earth do I think I have a better shot at success than that little hummingbird?