The Work of Byron Katie is known as a powerful stress-reducing method of changing one’s mindset. It can alter your entire perspective of a very painful situation.
I find, my internal world is completely different when I think about Before The Work and After The Work.
But what about severe physical harm? Or car accidents? Or huge traumatic moments, like war-time fear, near-death escape, or violence?
They are so frightening!
Sometimes, just seeing a movie with this kind of experience in it can be traumatizing. I remember this, in fact, from when I was about ten. I saw a horror movie in black-and-white on TV about turtle sucking snake-like creatures that vacuumed only the bone matter out of human bodies.
OMG.
I was up at night for several nights in a row, and I didn’t even want the girl whose house I spent the night at, where we watched this movie, to be my friend anymore.
The Exorcist scared me so badly, I couldn’t fall asleep all night then either, with my best friend Kathy snoozing in the guest bed next to me. I kept seeing a hand creep up the side of the wall, not connected to a body. (How did I get into the theater showing that movie, by the way, at age 12)?
I basically never watch horror movies now. Why on earth would I put myself through that kind of physical imaginative fear? The regular imagination is bad enough! Jeez!
The thing to remember first, when it comes to a truly traumatic experience, is that it is over, and now…..you are safe. Whether the event was real or a movie.
You are safe. Right now. Safe.
Because sometimes, the thoughts begin to scream at you NOT to look at that moment. Danger Danger Danger! A part of you doesn’t want to feel the adrenaline again, the sadness, the devastation. Even in a perfectly safe moment, your heart starts beating and you’re sweating, as you remember and “view” the movie in your mind.
It’s OK if you don’t want to do The Work on a truly frightening moment in your life. Nothing is required here.
And, it can be amazingly liberating if you do.
Just the other day, someone in Year of Inquiry did The Work her reaction to her grandson’s tantrum. He was so freaked out and wild, he scratched her eye. She remembered a previous violent situation even more frightening, with an adult, not a child.
If you notice you’re safe here, now, it might be easier to go take a look at that extremely difficult situation. The one you’d rather not see.
The violent one.
It’s a summer Saturday morning and the sun is streaming through huge tall windows and making bright lights and shadows on the gorgeous wooden dance floor. I’m full of energy, bouncy happy, surrounded by many wonderful, laughing people ages 5 to 80. One of my favorite songs comes on.
The set list is made intentionally to inspire, and it’s amazingly eclectic and fun. World music, Bollywood music, pop music, 1970s joyful funk, hip hop, salsa, the latest pop song in northern Africa, music from Turkey, Mongolia, Iceland, Mexico.
I am so thrilled, I run across the dance floor and leap into one of my favorite gymnastics moves, from age 15. Roundoff handspring. I do cartwheels all the time. And walk on my hands regularly.
As I land with legs straight only off kilter to the right, I feel a huge awful pull or rip in my sits bone, my pelvis. My whole body freezes up.
I don’t know it, but I just tore my hamstring right off the bone at the top of my leg. I’m still standing. I take a step. It’s very painful. But I can walk. I think “it’s not broken, I can walk”. I think maybe it will go away. Maybe I’ll walk it off. I numbly slow down, perplexed at the pain, continuing to stay upright the rest of the dance.
At the end, when we sit down in a circle, I’m wobbly and it burns horribly. I can’t sit in the circle. I feel shaky. I say to my husband as we walk across the parking lot that I really need to go home. It hurts horribly as I sit in the car. I put the seat all the way back.
Now, looking back, I had amazingly little fear. I didn’t even know what was wrong. The stress began to arise when a friend gasped after I had an MRI that showed the tear. She already knew before I did that I would need a surgery that was…..very uncomfortable. And my hamstring would probably never be the same again. Ever.
What kinds of thoughts appear with a situation like this? Perhaps you lose a limb, or someone else dies, or you saw the injury.
I find it helpful to notice that in the moment of injury or initial pain, there is almost no thought. It’s only right afterwards. The assessment. The awareness comes in, and THEN….here comes the suffering.
The moment of suffering is what The Work is for. That thought. THAT moment. It doesn’t mean you’ll question physical pain (although you can) but more what you think it actually means to have this pain.
My hamstring will never be the same again. I’ll have physical pain or limited movement for the rest of my life. I will never bike long distances, run long distances, hike, do gymnastics ever, ever again.
It’s all down hill from here. My life as I knew it, is over.
Let’s do The Work on this thought.
Is it true?
Yes.
Is it absolutely true, and terribly stressful?
No.
My life already was all down hill from here. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I am 56 right now. I was 52 when I tore my hamstring. I have no idea if I still had an intact hamstring I’d be happier. In fact, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t affect my ultimate happiness at all.
I notice I don’t have the stamina I used to have, things are changing in most fascinating ways in the body. I’m not upset. I find it amazing. I feel like I could die any day and I would have had an incredible life, and a pretty long one. I’m looking forward to what’s next. If there’s nothing next, I’ll have no mind so nothing to worry about anyway. Ha ha!
Who would I be without the belief my life is over as I knew it? (And that’s a BAD thing)?
Excited! Full of wonder. Actually interested to see where this whole hamstring thing is going. Where this whole life-leading-to-death is going.
I notice the hamstring incident has given me some amazing experiences to explore, and awareness to wake up to:
a) After surgery, I had to lie flat for 9 days without being able to turn over onto my stomach. It was stunning to investigate the thought that I needed to. (Stephen Hawking, I get it now!)
b) I finally started yoga
c) I went to several brilliant body practitioners and learned so much about being in this body
d) I’m quieter in my movement and manner. Slower bike rides. Shorter walks. I love dancing again, but not so wildly perhaps.
e) I’ve gotten a lovely reminder of death, dying, temporariness here, exploring my thoughts about a limited amount of remaining years
f) I’m more comfortable than ever doing The Work with other people on death, suicidal thinking, injury, illness, cancer, sickness, pain, The End.
Every day, these days, I am aware this could be the last one. I have strong glimpses and experience, for minutes (if not hours) that there will be a last day for everyone, including me.
“There is pain, and then there is Pain and Suffering. So we’ll work with the suffering, and watch, through your life, how body follows mind. What an amazing trip…..How do you react when you believe the thought ‘I want the pain to stop’ and it doesn’t? What happens to the pain when you want it to stop, and it doesn’t? Who would you be without the story ‘I feel pain’? What is the worst that could happen if the pain becomes worse? You can’t stand it anymore, can you absolutely know that’s true?” ~ Byron Katie
Wow.
Turning it around: my life is over as I knew it, and it’s all up hill from here.
So far, this is true. And come to think of it, it always has been.
Or maybe, there’s no hill at all. And nothing happening from the past. Those thoughts, I notice, are only about past and future. They have nothing to do with the present moment.
Oh. Right.
“It ain’t over, til it’s over.” ~ Yogi Berra
Much love,
Grace