You’re a mean one, Mr Grinch

On bad bananas and belonging

Perhaps you’re a little like me?

With little voices in your head who can sometimes sound a bit mean? A bit Bah Humbugy. A little Grinchy.  Maybe more noticeably so at this time of year. When there’s a sense of a collective expectation of a lot of jolly. And much merry.

For me, sometimes those little voices are whining in sarcastic tones about other people:  ‘oh, must be nice to be them and have the perfect life, or the perfect job, or the perfect house, or the perfect children, or the perfect body, or the perfect shining personality, or the perfect accomplishments, or the perfect business, or the perfect talent, or the creativity, or the commitment to charity, or, or, or, or ……..’.   It could be anything. But always, in those meany moments, it’s something  I think that they have and I don’t. And those wee voices sound like a teary or tantruming three-year-old whose world might be ending because the person beside them was handed a shiny balloon and they weren’t. There’s a sense of lack. Of scarcity. Of missing out. Of comparison.  Of envy.  Of devastation.  Of rage.

And other times, for me, those little voices turn on me.  Much worse than any other mean girl might be about me.  Picking and criticising on all the things:  ‘Nothing I do is right. Nothing about my way of being is enough.  Everything about my needs and wants is too much.  Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me.  I’ve nothing of worth to contribute.  I’m not seen.  Or wanted.  Or truly understood.  I’m not good.  If only I could ….., if only I had ….., if only I was ……., if only I didn’t …….., if only I changed …….’.  It could be anything.  But always, in those meany moments, it is something that’s not acceptable about me, somehow. Something that needs to be different in order for me to be acceptable. To be accepted.  By others. Or by myself.  There’s a sense of lack.  Of scarcity.  Of insecurity.  Of judgment.  Of fear.  Of aloneness.

Many moons ago, my wee nephew was very taken by Dr Seuss’s story of the Grinch at this time of year. He particularly revelled in Jim Carey’s song, ‘You’re a mean one, Mr Grinch’ from the movie, ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’.

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch

You really are a heel

You're as cuddly as a cactus

And as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch

You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel.

Just face the music you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are

Your heart's an empty hole

Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch

I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!‘

You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch lyrics © Emi Robbins Catalog Inc., Dr. Seuss Enterprises

And, in the way that very little people sometimes just utterly delight in, he’d hurl the insult, ‘you’re a bad banana’ at me, for me to play along.  ‘No, YOU’RE a bad banana’.  ‘No, YOU’RE a bad banana’.  ‘No, YOU are’.  Until it would end in a fit of giggling and tickling and cuddling and connection and complete certainty that we, neither of us, really considered each other bad bananas at all.

But I do think we might all have ‘bad’ banana bits to us.  Parts that are mean.  Or moany.  Or troubled.  But most of all, lonely.

Poor Grinch, I think. With his heart two sizes too small.   Exiled to Mount Crumpit.  An outsider.  Watching down while every Who down in Who-Ville makes their festive preparations without him.  Neither any wonder he was in a place of want.  Neither any wonder that on the night before Christmas he has his ‘wonderful, awful idea’ to steal Christmas.

In her book, Radical Acceptance, Buddhist teacher and psychologist Tara Brach, tells another ‘night before’ story.  About the then bodhisattva Siddhartha Guatama.  The night before his enlightenment, the Buddha fought a great battle with the Demon God Mara, who attacked him everything he had: lust, greed, anger, doubt, etc. Having failed, Mara left in disarray on the morning of the Buddha’s enlightenment.  When the “Evil One”, Mara, returned, instead of ignoring Mara or driving him away, the Buddha would calmly acknowledge his presence, saying, “I see you, Mara.” He would then invite him for tea and serve him as an honored guest. Offering Mara a cushion so that he could sit comfortably, the Buddha would fill two earthen cups with tea, place them on the low table between them, and only then take his own seat. Mara would stay for a while and then go, but throughout the Buddha remained free and undisturbed.

You can read more here: https://www.tarabrach.com/inviting-mara-to-tea/

I wonder what would it be like if we could invite our grinchy-bits to tea. If we were to offer a kind welcome to our bad banana parts without feeling that we need to deny them, or denigrate them,  or lose them, or change them, or hide them away.

How would it be if we were to see how those parts of us come from a place of lack. From scarcity.  From something, at some time, that we haven’t had enough of.  Love, maybe?  Understanding.  Safety.  Security.  Support.  Praise.  Acceptance.  Encouragement.  Compassion.

How would it be if we could offer kindness to ourselves. Just. As. We. Are. If we could befriend any of our ‘bah-humbugnesses’ with compassion.  And acceptance.  And understanding.

What if our inner grinches didn’t have to be exiled to hide out in the mountains?  Our mean parts. Our anxious parts.  Our sad parts.  Our bad parts.  Our lost-and-lonely parts. Our don’t-fit-in parts.  Our too-soft-and-sensitive parts. What if we could put a hand to our hearts and say ‘I see you’ to ourselves. And offer those parts our best china. Our sweetest tea. What if we allowed them to belong?  Without having to sing a merry, cheery, jolly song.

Well, perhaps we might feel as the Grinch did when he had a change of mind and returned Christmas to Who-ville:

And what happened then …….?

Well ….. in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch’s small heart

Grew three sizes that day!

This is my wish for you.  That your heart continues to grow.  To accommodate the whole of you. Just as you are. Such that all the parts of you feel a sense of belonging. And the tenderness of being seen and heard and loved.

Here’s my nephew’s chosen depiction of the Grinch. From a year or so before he was ‘bad-banana-ing’:

It’s the Grinch with his heart growing three sizes. My nephew gifted this to me, the same year as he presented me with the tiniest, perfectly round, glittery pink sticker. With sparkling eyes, and a sense of imparting one of life’s great secrets, he whispered to me that if I were to wish on it, it would fly me to the moon.

And so I wish this for you, too. For a heart that can imagine such magic. And for the kind of hope in wishes that might fly you to the moon.

With much love,

Iona x