I’m resting flat on my bed while I write in this moment.
I’ve been getting ready for 2 days for the autumn retreat. Remembering what to put in the box, hauling things over to the beautiful property. Everything is prepared at the retreat house, the sun is shining brilliantly with a deep blue sky, and the forecast calls for more golden fall sun for several days.
We’ll be having some amazing silent walks in the Seattle area neighborhood, that’s for sure. I’ve done them in the drizzle, in the heavy rain, in crisp gray cold winter weather, and this time in the bright sun. Can’t wait.
I most can’t wait for retreat to begin because it’s for me. I’m ready for retreat just as much as those attending.
I have a few thoughts to question, and I know they’ll start unraveling themselves in the presence of other sincere inquirers.
It happened today earlier during the Year of Inquiry group call. Two incredible thoughts brought to me like thoughts handed on a platter built for awakening.
Here you go….question this, Grace.
One of the thoughts a courageous inquirer took to The Work?
I’m all on my own.
What a frightening, discouraging, painful thought. But mostly it’s so painful when you think it means no one is there for you, no one is helping you, no kindness is offered, no relief.
It’s the feeling of having to contend with reality, in whatever form.
How many times have I had this belief running in my mind?
He left me, she left me. She won’t talk to me. I don’t have enough. It hurts. I can’t handle it. No one is here. I’m the only one who cares, or tries. I ‘have to’.
From working at jobs where the boss felt difficult, to being physically injured, to cancer coming to visit, to all the money gone.
I’m on my own.
How do you react when you believe this thought?
Discouraged. Resigned.
Giving up.
Full of imagined future terrors. Picturing the next abusive moment that could potentially happen. Worry. Feeling so vulnerable. Full of self-criticism and self-attack.
So….who would you be without this thought you are on your own?
I see the moments I’ve had this thought when I think something unacceptable and horrifying happened, or something mean and violent happened, or something shocking and frightening happened.
Who am I in these moments, without the belief I am on my own, I was on my own, with no help, nothing else, no support?
Today, I was filled with the beauty of The Work and the power of love, as I listened. The inquirer questioning this thought in our group became still and felt the memory of a moment she was sure was so difficult.
Then she noticed reality: she’s in a bathtub as a child. The water is so nice, warm. It is surrounded by a bath that holds the water. Blood is being washed away. Her mother is there, having put her in the bath. There’s a room, a floor, a house with walls, a ceiling.
Can I stay with the moments I’ve been so sure were dreadful, when I thought I was all on my own, and notice?
In my cottage 12 years ago. No one else home. Children gone. Former husband gone. Family gone. Money gone. Cancer diagnosis.
Who would I be without the belief I am on my own?
Looking around the room. Noticing the couch holding me, the floor under the couch, the foundation hooked by gravity to the earth. Noticing a bookshelf, a rug, running water, a cupboard with crackers, a wall heater.
Things everywhere. Sure, perhaps no humans, but something better than other humans: a place to sit, in silence, without interruption.
And then the most marvelous sound.
The inquirer who is doing The Work today of this very thought begins to laugh.
“My thoughts are all alone. I am not alone.”
Laughter, and more laughter, and more. Rising like a bubbling burst of joy. I was laughing too.
All I know is, in this work today, and in this work about to happen for 4 days, and in The Work I’ve ever been a part of in the past….this kind of discovery is the most wonderful feeling in the entire world.
To see that life, and all its experiences, has been more kind, supportive, caring, quiet, gentle and filled with love than I ever, ever have imagined when I’ve believed my stressful thoughts.
I feel so very lucky, so full of appreciation to notice what’s actually true. Astonishing.
I thank every inquirer who does The Work with me, as I get to see the most remarkable clarity arise out of their own inquiry. Stunning.
“Reality is always kinder than the story we tell about it.” ~ Byron Katie
Yes, even that story. Even that one.
Especially that one.
Much love,
Grace
P.S. This may seem a little crazy, but I have more room than I’ve had in awhile at this retreat. If you want to come, email me or text me 206-650-1230. You can join us. Several of the participants who were going to be here are signing up for the Breitenbush retreat instead. If you want to be there, it’s only $245 before 11/1 for 3 whole days.