Fixing Our Holes.
Relax, it’s emotional.
“I’m fixing a hole where the rain comes in, and stops my mind from wandering” Paul McCartney
Going through some old books the other day, I came across Scott Peck’s “Road Less Traveled.” I haven’t read this book in a dog’s age, possibly longer since dogs don’t live that long .
Sticking out of the book was a Post-it note with one word written across the top: “Holes.” I discovered many marked passages on this subject.
Seems in the metaphysical world, we all look like Swiss cheese.
Here’s how this Swiss cheese works
Peck explains that our character is determined by the size of our holes, with needy people having big holes, and less needy having smaller ones.
Since none of us is particularly good at filling anything (wall cracks, sink holes, etc.) we expect others to fill our holes in for us.
In relationships, for instance, we say, “My partner completes me.”
I’ve always thought that was a bit much, but Peck explains:
To feel complete we must ask for affirmation. This can take the form of anything from “Do I look pretty?” to “Does it bother you that I’m armed?”
If we don’t get this affirmation from others, we develop a relationship with our dog. Dogs are excellent hole-fillers. They agree to anything.
Then there’s Paul McCartney’s “Holes” He had a bunch.
After listening to Brian Wilson’s Pet Sounds, McCartney wanted to do something equally ethereal with Sgt. Pepper. One song he developed in particular was “Fixing a Hole.”
As McCartney explained years later, the song reflected what he was feeling while making the album. It was his concept, and he knew he’d have to make decisions (some not supported by John, George or Ringo).
This follows Peck’s logic that holes can’t be filled by other people. We must affirm ourselves, or at least understand where the holes come from in the first place (psychologists call this cognitive behavioural therapy).
Does it matter if you’re wrong or right?
McCartney’s lyrics take it a step further: Holes are only a problem if you see them as a problem. If you don’t, it really doesn’t matter if you’re wrong or right. The key words after that are “where I belong I’m right.”
Sometimes you have to ignore holes altogether
McCartney admitted years later that the song was really about his growing independence. The Beatles were becoming further and further apart, particularly Lennon and himself. McCartney realized he’d have to rely on his own instincts. Once he discovered he could survive and, in fact, flourish later with his band Wings, criticism seemed innocuous at best.
So fixing holes is really getting past fear.
When Peck would explain this to his patients, he’d draw a large circle with a small circle in the middle. The small circle was reality, the large circle was perception. What dominates perception is essentially fear.
In other words, we’re so full of “what ifs?” we forget they’re mostly fabricated. As our mind wanders — which it does when our dog isn’t giving us affirmation like crazy— those fears increase.
Ignoring the critics (who are big fearmongers and jerks)
We build obstacles based on how we’re perceived by others (we call them critics). This is classic Shakespearean irony. Critics have more holes than Bonnie and Clyde’s Ford V8 (now on display at Whiskey Pete’s Casino in Primm, Nevada).
“See the people standing there who disagree and never win.” Of course they never win, they’re critics. Worrying about their opinion is foolish. Even your dog thinks it’s foolish. You can criticize him all you like, and he’ll just wag his tail, panting, “Don’t know, don’t care, feed me or throw a ball.”
A lesson from dogs (let the rest of the world worry itself sick)
Dogs have it all wrapped up in their doggie worlds. They concentrate on the fundamentals (food, play, fire hydrant). That leaves a huge amount of time for other pursuits, which dogs engage in awake or asleep (notice his feet going right now).
Take away fear and anguish and second guessing and you’d be surprised how much time you have on your hands. “I’m taking the time for a number of things that weren’t important yesterday.”
Fill a few holes (maybe more than a few), and the world’s your oyster. Get out, throw a ball, listen to Sgt. Pepper. Let the rest of the world worry itself sick.
Tail-wagging miscreants and what’s good about them
Dogs continually do this with surprising effect. Better to be a tail-wagging miscreant than an owner worrying about the next ice age (some people really do worry about that).
How filling holes becomes easier
Here’s the most telling part of McCartney’s lyric. “Silly people run around they worry me, and never ask me why they don’t get past my door.” Silly people (mostly critics) don’t get past his door because he realizes he doesn’t need them. Nobody needs critics except critics.
If you’re saying, “But everyone seems to be a critic these days.” Well, if you are being criticized, at least you’ve done something worth criticizing. That’s why critics are the “silly people” in McCartney’s song, the ones who “never get past my door.” It’s their problem not yours. Accept that notion and filling holes becomes a lot easier. Or, as McCartney observed: “And I still go.”
Here’s an interesting tidbit of Beatlemania:
When McCartney first presented the Sgt. Pepper idea to his band mates, Lennon wasn’t interested. “I just gave him my songs,” he later admitted. “They didn’t have anything to do with the concept of the album itself. I let George [Martin] and Paul figure it out.”
The two songwriters were obviously excising their own holes, Lennon singing “I’ve got nothing to say, but it’s okay,” while McCartney sang, “I’ve got to admit it’s getting better, a little better all the time.”
Lennon didn’t share McCartney’s cherry-filled optimism. He can be heard singing in the background, “It can’t get no worse.”
Where your holes are (just as important as what they are)
Back then, McCartney was filling his holes on a farm in the Scottish Highlands. Lennon and Ono were sequestered on a couch doing primal screams into a tape recorder. McCartney found Ono’s screams annoying (who didn’t?).
So he hit the charts again with “Maybe I’m Amazed.”
Life is life. It’s not your fault
Scott Peck once said, “Life is difficult. If we truly see this, we transcend it.” The same can be said for holes.
Once we accept that life is difficult, we can also accept it’s not our fault. Life is life. Get to that stage and “It really doesn’t matter if I am wrong or right, where I belong is right, where I belong.”
In many respects, I guess that says it all.
And my dog agrees. He says he belongs on the couch.
Robert Cormack is a satirist, blogger and author of “You Can Lead A Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive).” You can join him every day by subscribing to robertcormack@medium.com/subscription.
