I once attended a summer barbecue in a vegan friend’s yard. When I arrived he invited me to enjoy a portobello mushroom from the grill. I opted for beer instead. But after the sun went down I felt hungry and decided I’d go look to see if any cold mushrooms were still on the picnic table.
In the dark, I found a plate of mushrooms and put one in my mouth. It was chewy. VERY chewy. I assumed that must be what happens when they sit out for a few hours. So I chewed harder.
It had a strong citrus flavor, as if it had been soaked in some kind of lime sauce. A LOT of lime sauce. And the chewiness, I could not even get a bite out of this mushroom, I gnawed and gnawed at it. I wanted to spit it out.
Don’t be a baby, I told myself. You’re not going to spit out a mushroom at this party. You’re going to chew it and eat it. However chewy it may be, however much lime flavor is on it, it’s a mushroom and it’s getting eaten.
After a few minutes of this battle somewhere in the dark at the edges of the party, I admitted defeat and spit out the mushroom.
Reader: It was a whole lime.
I had bit all the way through the rind and mangled it up pretty well, but not gotten a good chunk out of it.
When I saw the truth of the mushroom, I finally understood humanity. You see, we don’t care that it chewed like a lime. We don’t care that it tasted like a lime. We have justifications that can explain anything. The important thing is that we know that it’s a mushroom and that’s all there is to it.
I laughed at myself, and I laughed at all of us, what fools we all are. Reality means nothing to a mind that’s made up. Now whenever I find myself judging someone for not seeing what should be obvious, I find my humility in the story of the mushroom.