The houseplants turn towards the Viking as if he were the sun — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide
Hummingbird, the icon of the practical guides of The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

How do I stay close to someone overwhelming?

Deckchair and sunglasses

You don’t argue with a star. You set your distance.

The keyDecide the length, the topic and what you’re giving up — before you go.

“Now I look at the sun fondly… but never head-on, or else with bulletproof sunglasses.”

Chapter 40 — The Sun King

When it happens to you

There’s someone who takes up all the space. Not necessarily a monster: sometimes it’s a sunny colleague, a parent, a friend who shines very brightly. You come away from every encounter drained, with the film still playing at midnight. And yet you don’t want to cut them off.

Why there’s nothing to win by arguing

He never questions himself, and it isn’t ill will: he’s the only one of his kind, with no other sun to compare himself to. What he feels, he takes for everyone’s truth. You won’t convince him — not because you argue badly, but because he has no organ for it.

Rule

You don’t argue with a star. You set your distance.

How to set the distance, in 4 steps

  1. The length. You set an end time before you go. 40 minutes, two hours, whatever — but it’s decided beforehand, and coolly.
  2. The topic. You choose what you talk about. The rest, you don’t pick up, even if he puts it on the table.
  3. What you give up. You don’t try to convince him of anything. You listen, you take it in, you don’t argue with his truth. You can even admire the glow, it’s pretty from a distance.
  4. You leave at the time you set. Not when it’s over — when it’s time.

⚠ This isn’t running away

Leaving on time isn’t slamming the door: you’re not surrendering, you’re ending a war nobody can win. And it isn’t coldness — you can be tender, funny and warm for all the time you’ve decided to give. The distance is in the frame, not in the tone.

What it changes for you

You keep the people you don’t want to lose without losing yourself. You go home with your energy instead of leaving it on the table. And the midnight film stops, because there’s no game left to replay: you weren’t trying to win.

How to practise

Once, at the next planned encounter. Write your three decisions on a piece of paper before you go, and check afterwards whether you stuck to them. After three times, it becomes automatic.

Remember

Look at the sun as much as you like. Wear sunglasses, and get out of the deckchair at the time you chose.

You may be wondering

He’ll notice I always leave at the same time.

Probably, and that’s not a problem. “I’ve got something on after” is a complete sentence — it doesn’t need a follow-up.

Does that mean giving up on being understood by him?

On the subjects where he can’t, yes. It’s sad to write, and it’s what sets you free: you stop going to fetch water from a place where there isn’t any.

And what if it’s every day, at work?

Then length becomes your unit of measure: you set each exchange rather than each meeting. 5 minutes standing up beat an hour sitting down.

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.