What draws a rat into a cage and traps it?

Bill Dandie
2 days ago
2 min read

The answer is simple: food.

What draws a rat into a cage and traps it? Food!

For 59 years of my life, I lived in that cage.

When I gave up alcohol in 2022 the energy that once went into drinking quietly shifted to food. Later, when gummies and magic mushrooms also fell away, the last crutch standing was still there—food. It is our most socially acceptable desire, the one no one questions. Yet it may be the strongest of all.

Even when I stopped stocking poor food choices at home, the pattern remained. Once I was in “open territory”—restaurants, gatherings, celebrations—I would overindulge. Desire always finds a way when it hasn’t been understood.

After an incredible year of heart-opening discoveries, I decided to stop eating altogether on November 14th, 2025, and to refeed on December 25th. Yes, Christmas.

This wasn’t a random choice. I had fasted for four days this past Easter, and the insights that arrived during that time were undeniable. This time, I felt called to go deeper. To step fully into stillness. To meet desire face to face rather than manage it.

There is also symbolism here. The Sun appears to stand still for about two and a half days at the winter solstice on December 21st, before the days begin to lengthen again. Dormancy, followed by rebirth. I intend to be reborn with that returning light—moving toward spring, toward life renewed.

The rat in the cage is not some external creature.

The rat is us.

Unable to transcend desire, we become trapped by it. We fixate on manifestations—taste, quantity, pleasure—while missing the deeper mystery beneath them. As long as desire leads, we remain bound to the karmic wheel, repeating the same loops again and again.

As I write this, I am 672 hours without food. And surprisingly, I don’t miss it.

When I do have a cup of vegetable broth, I am deeply grateful. The flavor is unlike anything I remember. It’s alive. Honest. Complete. Contrast that with the world we’ve created—endless chip varieties, infinite cracker flavors, constant stimulation. We’ve traded gratitude for excess, and simplicity for noise.

I recently weighed myself and ran the numbers.

At my highest weight, roughly 25 years ago, I was 245 pounds. Most of my adult life I hovered around 220, and people often told me I “wore it well.” At 6'2", it didn’t look alarming—but when I calculate my BMI from those years, I was clearly overweight and registering as obese.

Today, I weigh 175 pounds, only about ten pounds down from when this fast began. My BMI now sits squarely in the middle of the normal range.

Our relationship with food should make us pause.

So I ask you—gently but honestly—to check your own BMI. More importantly, check your relationship with food. Not with guilt. Not with shame. But with curiosity.

What is it feeding besides your body?

What desire is it soothing?

What cage might it be quietly building?