The Viking, married to his beer — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide
Hummingbird, the icon of the practical guides of The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

How do I know whether someone is really there for me?

Married to beer

And when it comes to fidelity, he’s truly beyond reproach.

The keyDon’t argue with the words. Look at where the energy goes.

“He’s married to beer. And when it comes to fidelity, he’s truly beyond reproach.”

Chapter 22 — Itsy-Bitsy the Maggot and the Teeny Button

When it happens to you

Someone swears something to you and you can feel it doesn’t add up. “I’m here for you.” “You matter more than anything.” You don’t know what to say because, on paper, it’s true: he says it with sincere eyes, he means it. So you wonder whether you’re the one overreacting.

Why you can’t win an argument with someone sincere

He isn’t lying to you, he’s lying to himself. He’s not a con man, he’s blind: he believes what he says, and his actions tell another story he can’t hear. You can see it — that’s why you feel out of step, you’ve got both versions in front of you and he’s only got one.

Rule

Words show the intention. Actions show the priority.

How to look in the right place, in 4 steps

  1. One week, one notebook, 3 columns: time, money, attention.
  2. Every evening, you note where they went. No interpretation, no comment, no trial. Facts.
  3. After 7 days, you look at what comes out on top. That’s where his loyalty lies, not in the Sunday-night speech.
  4. Then do it on yourself. The notebook works both ways, and that’s often the most revealing part of the exercise.

⚠ We’re talking about a habit, not one evening

Someone may cancel an evening on you because their parents are in hospital: that says nothing about you and nothing about him, except that he has a life. Something coming up is just something coming up. What we’re looking at here is repetition. One fact isn’t a sign; 7 days is a trend; three months is an answer.

What it changes for you

You stop looking for proof in the conversation, where it isn’t. You get out of doubt: you no longer wonder whether you’re overreacting, you’ve got your columns. And you decide for yourself, because you’ve looked.

How to practise

7 days in a row, 2 minutes each evening. Then once a month, over 3 days, to check the picture hasn’t changed.

Remember

He told you what he believes. His actions told you who he is. Both were sincere — only one was true.

You may be wondering

Isn’t that spying?

No: you note what concerns you, not what he does with his life. The difference is simple — you don’t open anything, you don’t search for anything, you look at what comes your way.

And what if the columns prove me wrong?

Then you’ll have won back your sleep, which is no small thing. This exercise is as good for dissolving a worry as for confirming it.

What do I do with what I see?

Nothing straight away. The notebook is there so you can decide with full knowledge, and a decision made coolly the following week beats a scene that same evening.

Watch the hummingbirds

Watching the hummingbirds means changing your point of view.
Seeing things from every angle.
Accepting every part of ourselves. And of other people.
And laughing about it.

A hummingbird has every colour. So do we. Our shadows and our light.
You take one step to the side: green turns pink. Then gold.
Nothing has moved, except you.

What a practical guide is for

Trying out a tool.
Changing your point of view.
Laughing at something that weighed on you this morning.

What it isn’t

It isn’t therapy.
It isn’t a diagnosis.
It isn’t a courtroom: nobody’s looking for a culprit.
It isn’t a rulebook for good behaviour. You do what you like.

What it’s for

Accepting that we’re human. And fallible.
Our shadows. Our light.
Taking the drama out, to melt the resistance.
Not judging ourselves. Not judging others.
Laughing about it. It works better, and it’s more fun.

Nobody gets judged here. Least of all you.
We don’t know anything you don’t. We just wrote some tools.

Where these guides come from

Nobody made them up. They came out of a novel, chapter by chapter — in the order I learnt them. Not in logical order: in the order life threw them at me.

What you get, end to end:
Not getting stuck in the middle.
Not having to prove your worth.
Understanding the other person without carrying what’s theirs.
Spotting what keeps repeating.
Setting the limit, and holding it.
Naming the manoeuvre, which is enough to defuse it.
Getting out when the judges are also the accusers.
Listening to the body, which answers before we do.
Sorting out what we keep.
And finally: choosing where we’re heading.

I only saw the logic afterwards, reading it back. That’s why it holds: nobody drew it up in advance.

If something feels too big for you, see a professional. A guide is a tool, not a doctor.