Don't Drink From The Toilet Bowl

Joseph Campbell used to tell an old Indian fable about three beings who drank from the same river. One was a god, and he tasted ambrosia. One was a man, and he tasted plain water. One was a demon, and he tasted filth. The point, Campbell said, is that what you receive in life depends on your state of mind.

Some people take this to mean “always think positive.” But denial can be just as toxic as negativity. And as the Buddha taught, what makes a mind-state “divine” isn’t whether it’s positive, but whether it’s rooted in compassion. Pain, for example, is an undeniable part of life, but we can choose to meet it with love rather than self-pity. Over time, these responses shape the meaning of our lives.

By and large, we’re conditioned to meet pain with complaining. It can feel like we complain because there’s so much to complain about. But often, complaining is simply the most immediate or familiar way our minds respond. After a long day, it can feel easier to sit back and crack open a can of outrage than face how frail and fallible we all are.

Years ago, Yoko Ono created a 30-day “no complaining” challenge, which I tried. You might think giving up complaining for a month would make you inauthentic, but it did the opposite for me. Without that outlet, I became more aware of my deeper pain: the child inside me still crying out for love and acceptance. When you see that complaining is actually a way of ignoring that child, it loses its appeal.

We also gravitate toward complaining because it feels good in the moment. Our minds are naturally drawn to whatever is loudest, newest, or most emotionally charged. It’s like a dog drinking from a toilet bowl, drawn to the motion of the water without noticing the filth it also carries.

But you don’t have to drink from the toilet bowl. You can gently question complaining as a way of living and perceiving. And you can turn, not to forced positivity, but to real compassion — the kind from which a quieter strength and dignity can grow.