Mind Officially Blown.
Listening to Byron Katie answer questions about life, suffering, and what it means when anyone says they are “doing” The Work….
….is nothing short of the stressed-out busy mind getting blown into tiny bits and scattered about like seeds in the wind.
In a really good way.
What I mean by this is, I feel the joy of recognizing once again how I’ve been chattering away with some scary stories, and not cleaning them up, not getting around to listening to them to see what’s really frightening me.
Not really thinking these stories of other people, or fearful events, are very important to question.
Why sit down for this meditation, this in-depth contemplation of my mental noise, when it really hasn’t been very noisy, especially compared to how loud it used to be!?!?
Isn’t this good enough?
It’s sooooo much work. Jeeeeeeeeez.
And then there are the thoughts, too, that people have sometimes (not me, to be honest) like “maybe The Work doesn’t work for me.”
But who knows.
The more important thing, is what has worked so far, for me.
What has worked, has been answering the four questions as I look steadily at a situation full of pain, fear or sadness. What I’ve found in all my love for reading, writing, wondering and exploring, is that The Work makes realization wildly simple.
You write down your thoughts.
You question them.
So during this past weekend, while in the middle of watching the Being With Byron Katie retreat, I wrote.
There’s an old friend who’s been bugging me.
So much so, I said I needed a break from communication. I made excuses and said I and used these reasons to ask for less messaging, less interaction.
The real truth was I was sick of his advice-giving and pissed off at him still for how he acted five years ago.
Yep.
Kind of embarrassing.
But sitting in the presence of Byron Katie, who invited us to carefully and deeply contemplate an uncomfortable moment with another person, I had to admit I felt sudden fury at my friend.
I’ve written worksheets on him before.
You know what, though?
I have not gone through all the thoughts I’ve written down, one by one, and taken them through the inquiry process, finding my true answers, without expectation of anything except wanting to understand my mind and my heart, and open them.
I. Have. Not. Done. Thorough. Work.
Instead, apparently I have preferred to do a little work, call it good, and move on.
Fast.
So as others did their work, and people asked questions of Katie, and I remembered my great intention, and joy, in questioning stressful beliefs instead of holding on to them for weeks, months, years, decades….
….I brought my real thoughts about this friend to inquiry.
The starting point is, of course, actually seeing what you think in the first place.
I might have been skirting these true, deeper, frightened thoughts.
Well, OK, I definitely was.
As I wrote down what I really thought of this guy, I had an image of us both flailing around in the deep ocean. He is drowning and can’t swim at all. I can swim, I’m a good swimmer in fact, but he’s bigger and heavier, and he’s putting me down underwater in his own panic.
Wow, I thought.
My thoughts about this friend are that he’ll kill me with his fear or intensity or wild creativity. He’ll pull me under with him. He’s completely screwed up, depressive, has been suicidal, an addict, incredibly passionate, and if I keep in touch with him….
…..WE are goin’ down. Drowning!!!
Yowser. I haven’t wanted to look at how dramatic my mind has been about this friendship. It’s loserville. It’s a mess. It’s sick. He’s a wreck. He’s a threat. I better watch out. He’s volatile, homeless, obsessive, mentally ill, needy, overpowering, desperate.
As I wrote my true un-edited thoughts down on paper, they felt so intense and ridiculous. Childish. I would never, ever want him to see these thoughts (OMG).
But I really want to know what’s going on here, instead of have it come back for little visits as a pattern of thought all over again. And again.
This is step #1.
Writing down these horrible thoughts. The scariest ones.
And then, during breaks in between listening to other peoples’ work, and listening to Katie, I began to inquire.
If I’m his friend, I’ll be drowned. He’ll pull me down with him.
Is this true?
I’ve never been near any water with this man. I’ve never been pulled down, in any water, by anyone. I’ve had nightmares of drowning, and done The Work on drowning, but I have never even begun to drown in this physical life.
Except emotionally, in my own stressful thinking, in my own chaotic feelings.
The closest I ever came to a real drowning incident was watching my grandpa wade into 3 feet of water with his work suit on to grab my little sister who apparently had just gone into the deeper segment of the pool by accident, whose head was underwater without coming up. I didn’t actually even see her. I saw him racing through water in his doctor’s office clothes.
Is it true my friend would pull me down with him, with his addiction and sadness and longing and neediness (judge, judge, judge)?
No. Total fantasy. Me making up a story. A scary one.
How do I react?
I cut off contact. My heart races. I feel confused after some communication. I don’t know what to do. I conclude I’m unable to help. I say goodbye. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m annoyed.
So who would I be without this whole entire story that he’ll drown me?
Communicating. Listening. Saying “no” easily, without panic or caution under the surface. Asking him clarifying questions when he’s said wild things. Noticing how dear he is, how hard he tries, how creative and persistent.
Turning this first thought around (and I have more thoughts to question, after this one from the start):
If I’m his friend, I will not be drowned. He will not pull me down with him. If I’m my own friend, I will not be drowned (ever). Good awareness. Be your own friend, Grace! I’ll pull myself down with my stories of how terrible it could be (physically drowning, for God’s sake).
If he’s my friend, I’ll drown him! I’ll pull him down underwater. Yikes.
Who’s the one pulling people under water, drowning them in crazy overwhelming emotions, playing games with stories in my head?
That would be me.
I sat with this awareness a long while today, silently.
I realize, I have no idea truly who my friend is. I’ve judged him with all those descriptive words: intense, addictive, needy.
I am the one who has been very intense, especially when it comes to this friend. I have been addictive in my thinking very obsessively about his health and his ability to thrive. I have been needy for knowledge that he’s OK.
I have been almost demanding he act a certain way, so I can be happy.
Gulp.
Tears.
Awareness.
Who would you be without the belief that someone has to do, act, be, say, feel, think a certain way so that YOU can be happy?
Free.
Back here, letting reality be as it is. Hands open.
On my knees.
Grateful.
Much love, Grace