Author: Grace

The School for The Work just completed, and I’m flying home from Los Angeles to Seattle. Out of the sun and into the mist. 

I’ll admit it.

Being on staff during the 9 day school was intense, focused work. Lots of duties, many details, 210 participants and about 50 staff. 

The behind-the-scenes organization is masterful. I am humbled by the effort put into creating this school for 30+ years. 

There was one small problem.
My aching right hamstring injury. 
Or should I say one BIG problem. 

Oh the pain.

If you’ve been reading Grace Notes for awhile, you might remember the story when I first tore my right hamstring six years ago, and had surgery to repair it by pinning it back onto the sits-bone. Ew. I don’t even want to think about it.

For a few years, it seemed like it was doing OK. Never back to “normal”….but OK. 

And then….the pain changed.

It got worse. 

Always only on the right side, always radiating from that injury site up into my lower back, up the right soaz and all the muscles in my right side below the rib cage. When it’s intense, it’s like my whole right side butt cheek is inflamed or on fire. A strange nervy type pain. 

(And yes, I’ve been to a lot of specialists and have lots of physical therapy exercises some of which seem to help a whole lot. Sometimes it dies down to a 2 level pain and I’m totally relieved).

And sometimes…. 

Level 9 out of 10. Like…excruciating. I almost can’t stand upright, and I can’t sit down either. Lying flat appears to be the only thing offering relief, and it still burns and throbs. 

Well, that happened right here during the School. 

Yippee Skippee!!

Maybe it was because I was on my feet so much the very first set up day when all the participants registered and arrived. 

I don’t really know, to be honest.

But oh the thoughts.

• I should be able to be on my feet a long time, just like I used to be
• My easy life in a healthy body is over 
• I should not have this chronic pain
• This pain is preventing me from enjoying myself
• I can’t be free with this thing called pain
• I can’t do my job well
• My body is failing me
• Those doctors/surgeons screwed up my hamstring
• I shouldn’t have had the surgery
• I wish I wasn’t here
• This injury will make it impossible for me to fulfill my dreams (travel, hiking, moving, playing, being)
• My life is ruined

Right there in the middle of the school….I knew I needed to begin The Work. Just like all the amazing participants who inspired me as they navigated their own inner minds and worlds day by day.

Is it true my life is ruined right in the middle of that pain? Is it true it should be easy? And that easy means pain-free? Is it true I can’t do my job, or I shouldn’t have even come?

No! 

But here’s where I found something fascinating and interesting, right here in this question three: How do you react, what happens, when you believe these difficult thoughts about the pain?

First of all, I saw pictures of going back to the surgeon for a follow-up and being demanding, persistent, intense. I saw pictures in the past of how out of it I was for 3 months of no weight on that leg and how shriveled looking it was in 2013. 

But then I noticed something fascinating. A belief hovering in the background: I should never mention this, I will disappoint people if I can’t do my job, it is embarrassing. 

How I reacted when I believed this was….I pretended it wasn’t there. 

And by Day Four I had to lie down flat on my hotel room bed, take an advil, and let the wonderful person I was working for that evening know I couldn’t stand upright anymore, or sit. 

I didn’t like it.

An old story came into view about this pain: it’s weak to have physical ailments, I’ll disappoint people, they won’t think I’m valuable.

Yowser. 

see my grandfather, Mr Tough Guy. A lead surgeon at a hospital with lots of strength, stamina and opinions. I see my mother, also tough (and extremely into health and well-being). 

I see my mother criticizing my father for his lack of health.

I see my grandfather criticizing his wife and family for their lack of health or potential lack of health. Lots of emphasis on sports, fitness, perfect weight, no physical problems of any kind. Sick people are weak.

I remember the story of the treacherous race to the South Pole in 1912 when British explorer Lawrence Oates said to his teammates “I’m just going outside. I may be some time.” He knew full well he was sacrificing himself (he was dying of frostbite) so the others could trek on and potentially survive. 

So British. Which is, by the way, my ancestry (I happen to be a British citizen). 

Who would I be without the story that physical ailment or pain or absence of health is terrible, disappointing to others and to myself, wrong, something I go to war with AND something I should keep on the down low?

Wow. 

I’d feel the sensation of pain, notice the incredibly strong message it’s giving. 

I wouldn’t collapse in sadness within, I’d talk about what

I’m feeling without embarrassment. I might not “explain” with long stories so I can justify my lack of contribution. I wouldn’t worry about anyone else’s opinions. 

I wouldn’t make it “my” pain and something about “me” or something I associate with shame. 

I’d just move until I couldn’t, and take care of this body as best I could, the whole time. Not ignoring it. Not worrying.

Turning the thoughts around:

• I should be as I am now–standing as long as I’m able to right now (not as I used to be). Now is Now. 
• My easy life in a healthy body is not over. And, the original thought doesn’t even make sense because as a young woman I had pain, injury, illness in various forms over time. 
• I should have pain. Because I do. And it helps me rest and get quiet and lie down–mentally, physically, spiritually. Not believing I need to maintain an appearance or ignore this beautiful body.
• This pain is NOT preventing me from enjoying myself. I chuckled, teared-up, listened, belly-laughed all at the same time as my right glute has been on fire.
• I can be free with this thing called pain. My mind can be free to make friends with anything. My mind runs all over about a zillion other things besides the pain–it’s unlimited in its exploration, despite physical sensation called “pain” underway in the body.
• I CAN do my job well. I got up and worked every day, I followed the directions.
• My body is succeeding for me (rather than failing). Woah. My thinking is failing me. My body is sending a signal to keep me on the path towards healing, and acceptance, and compassion. 
• Those doctors/surgeons did NOT screw up my hamstring. They made the best suggestion they could, they applied their skill, and the surgery was successful at the time. 
• I should have had the surgery. It’s over. I did. I can’t know what it would be like without it. 
• My injured thinking will make it impossible for me to fulfill my dreams (travel, hiking, moving, playing, being)–if I keep believing my thoughts about pain to be true.
• My life is created (not ruined). Each day a new day, working with this body as it is. One day, this body won’t be here anymore–the way of it. Body, on its way out eventually. My thinking is what is ruined–especially when it believes pain is terrible.

I continue considering good reasons for pain to be present in my life. 

Noticing the mental and emotional pain in my life made me inquire into the nature of the mind, into suffering, into reality. 

That suffering brought me to my first School for The Work. 

The School changed my entire life–perhaps even saved it. 

Yes, I can find good reasons for the pain I’ve experienced.

Benefits. 

Thank you pain for being a part of my life and pointing me towards understanding, and love.

Thank you pain for allowing me to notice you’re not such a big deal after all. 

Thank you pain for bringing me to my knees in surrender. 

Thank you pain for allowing me to learn and notice what hurts, and what doesn’t, and to stop complaining and start inquiring.

Sometimes the ONLY option is to turn to what hurts, notice, do The Work, make the best decision.

Time to die to the complaining, the mental torture, the analyzing, the panic about the future. 

I’m just going outside. I may be some time.

If you’d like to sink into some of the pain you’ve experienced in your lifetime–whether physical, emotional, mental, spiritual–then come sit with me and my friend Tom Compton at Breitenbush Hotsprings for 3 days. Room for just a few more. Read more here. 

Much love, Grace

• December 5-8 I’m with the good Tom Compton as we co-facilitate a winter retreat at Breitenbush Hotsprings in Oregon (getting full)
• Eating Peace Retreat January 15-20 in Seattle is a wonderful adventure in freedom from eating concerns, eating thoughts, consuming thoughts, worries about fatness or thinness (1 more spot).
• Divorce/Breaking-Up/Separation Is Hell: Is It True? online course co-facilitated with the delightful Nadine Ferris France, begins again January 12-March 8 Sundays 11:00am-12:30pm PT.  

As you read this, I’m probably already on an airplane to Los Angeles, with my final destination in Ojai, California and the School for The Work. 

Two years ago when I went to the school to be on staff, I hadn’t been in 11 years and I was sooooo excited. 
It was a magnificent adventure. 

The rolling green grounds of the inn, with lemon and orange trees and white stucco mission-style buildings, the bright sage-smell in the air. Every day brought a new scene, a brand new person to do The Work with, a new encounter, old friends I got to know in a new way.

Moments in the big conference room for the all-school sessions, a short walk out on the grounds, a close conversation with an inquirer; listening, laughing, following, noticing. 

And….well….fires.

Something I had never seen or thought about much before. Fires were burning in the near vicinity. The very first night, an evacuation plan was being formed. And quickly deemed unnecessary. 

All I ever actually saw of an actual fire in October 2017 was a scorched blackened area off the highway with a little smoke wisping up to the sky, as I gazed out from the large shuttle bus window at the very end of the school. 

Other than that, the only fire I ever saw was in my mind.
So this year, I decided to check the maps on the google.
Oh, look at that. Icons of orange and yellow flames on the map near Los Angeles, flames in the hills not far from Los Angeles, flames between Los Angeles and Ojai, and many flames in northern California. 

I saw also that the whole area, including Ojai, is considered some kind of red high-watch hot zone. 
Everything’s incredibly dry, the air quality is probably bad….

….and….they’re off! 

I’m referring to the images. Thoughts. In my own head. 

Like a horse galloping ahead, or a whole herd of them stampeding (kind of like I saw on one video about a fire somewhere in California, no idea where–there were horses running out of flames). 

Then thoughts like “this will be a hassle”.

Or much worse “this is very dangerous”.

It’s fascinating to take in information and data, record it in the mind (which happens so quickly) and watch the image-i-nation. 

Image-i-nation. A ‘nation’ of images rises up, with possibilities about the future, and reminders of the past. 
I can barely start believing all the thoughts about fire danger.

But. 

I’m imagining the dread or loss of people who live near these areas. I look at the pictures in my head which look remarkably just exactly like the few pictures I’ve seen on news reels of red fires burning near freeways and fire fighters spraying water on scorched earth. I’ve heard from a few clients who have been evacuated.

It’s not exactly like I’m thinking “oh good, I hope I get to see some of this action!” 

I’d rather not see any fires. 

Is it true, though, that while there is potential danger (self-inquiry is not about denial); I’m not safe, or I wasn’t safe in the past, or I won’t be safe in the future?

No. 

It’s true this body will die at some point. 

But is that to be considered proof of lack of safety? Do I need to be worried today, this moment now, because something terrible MIGHT happen?

No. 

I notice when something dramatic has apparently happened in my life, I’ve responded. Often there’s an automatic response, and then the thoughts all pour in later, after the thing is already over. 

The mind, although it seems very quick, is actually quite slow. Something happens, and THEN it starts thinking about it. 

How do I react when I have a thought that something uncomfortable or terrible bad might happen in the future?
This doesn’t have to be about fires. 

What do you notice happens when you anticipate something might occur that’s not safe?

I secretly hope it’s cancelled. I avoid the danger zone. I avoid that person. I think “the world is safe in the following areas (x, y, z) but not in these areas (a, b, c)” and I make sure to avoid (a, b, c). 

I talk to myself internally; “Why’d you decide to go now? You should have known it would be fire season.”

I picture an alternative version of life, sitting on my couch drinking tea, enjoying my family when they have a day off on Veteran’s Day holiday (11/11) and we’re all at home rather than me being in California. 

I list even more benefits quickly of staying at home, like earning income, so I start seeing advantages for not going besides not being burnt to death. 

LOL. 

Who would I be without this dreadful thought that something horrible involving fires could happen?

This is never about pretending I’m not scared, or that fire isn’t dangerous. It’s about taking in reality with awareness, openness, ready to respond clearly. 

Without the thought, I carefully check the maps and messages. I allow the data to come in to my awareness, I gather information, and I trust the process. I see visions of climate change, witnessing, wondering about the world. 

Without the thought, I’m doing laundry and gathering my little suitcase together and considering what I need to bring. Not much. 

Without the thought, I’m wondering about all the sweet people coming to question their fearful minds at this event, and how amazing it is to do that. Feeling open and very relaxed. Thrilled to learn recently of more people I know who will be there. 

Willing, calm, ready.

Feeling very lucky and grateful. Knowing there will be several hundred people with smart ideas and resources all ready to help each other out if something happens. 

Without the belief in lack of safety, I’m aware of other mishaps or emergencies I’ve been a part of that I’ve survived. I’m even appreciating the existence of fear and how it serves a purpose.

Turning the story around: nothing dangerous will happen, whatever happens will be just right. Nothing terrible will happen. Something wonderful will happen. Only in my mind, terrible things will happen (have already happened). I am quite safe, whatever happens. Even death, for all I know–it certainly appears to be the Way of It that I’ll die. 

Could these be just as true, or truer?

Who is this “I” who needs to be “safe” anyway? 

If the way of it is life happens, then death happens, then life happens….I notice the privilege of even being able to think about this and be aware of it. 

I notice dramatic loss, starting over again from scratch (which has happened in my own life), perspectives being burned….is not such a bad thing. It’s not easy or comfortable. And that’s OK. 

What a marvel. 

Speaking of fires….I recently got to speak with the delightful Margot Diskin, a facilitator of The Work who lives in France. 

She shared one story about a fire she encountered herself, and to her surprise….no fear. 

Much love,Grace

P.S. I’m gathering information again about your experience of eating IF you feel like it’s not peaceful. If you feel bad about your eating, your body or some foods….I’d love if you’d complete a survey for me. 

There are ten questions and it should only take about ten minutes (but be as thorough as you like). This helps me continue to get better and better at working with people with compulsive or emotional eating concerns, or weight issues. 

To fill out the survey (secure and anonymous) visit HERE. 

One of the most painful, desperate experiences that humans encounter is suicide.

Death is difficult all on its own.

And then….here it is, caused not by an accident, but by the one who died (it seems). 

Sometimes with these greatest and most utterly devastating experiences, we might think “how could The Work help with that?” 

Answering four questions and finding turnarounds….really?

But I’ve witnessed it several times.

The most recent, with a member of Year of Inquiry whose son’s dear friend killed himself. 

This inquirer sat in The Work with our group, answering the four questions and finding turnarounds. 

ABLE to answer the questions.

Who would you be without your story that suicide can’t be recovered from, or that we can’t find peace of some kind when it comes to the suicide of someone we loved?

Without the story of horror, I notice the resilience of the human spirit, even during horrendous heart-shattering experiences of loss or shock like suicide.

Without our terrifying thoughts about suicide (I could have prevented it, it shouldn’t be possible, they made a mistake, I made a mistake, my life is over)….

….I notice how we make it. 

We make it, we survive it, we learn, we’re brought to our knees, we learn again, we love.

We learn all about truly unconditional love. 

“….Anger, frustration, terror, prayers. These are a few of the ways we react when we believe what we think. It’s what the war with reality often looks like, and it’s not only insane, it’s hopeless, and very painful. But when you question your mind, thoughts flow in and out and don’t cause any stress, because you don’t believe them. And you instantly realize that their opposites could be just as true. Reality shows you, in that peace of mind, that there are no problems, only solutions. You know, to your very depths, that whatever happens is what should be happening. If I lose my grandchild or my daughter, I lose what wasn’t mine in the first place. It’s a good thing. Either that, or God is a sadist, and that’s not my experience. 

“I don’t order God around. I don’t presume to know whether life or death is better for me or for anyone I love. How can I now that? All I know is that God is everything and God is good. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. “
~ Byron Katie in 1000 Names For Joy pg 138

Much love,Grace

You may be familiar with a poem about the Statue of Liberty in the United States, written in 1883 by Emma Lazarus. 

I rather like thinking of her poetic words as if they were applied to our thoughts, which we’re so often banishing, dismissing, trying to change or trying to control. 

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Doesn’t it seem as if our stressed thinking is tired, poor, wretched? Homeless? Tempest-tost? 

Goodness, yes.

I think of the four questions of The Work as the lamp, a way to walk through a door into….sanity, on solid ground. 
Whether you’ve had thoughts like: I need more time! She rejected me! I can’t take it anymore! 

Or, even the greatest difficulties we humans face: loss, illness, despair, death, tragedy, suicide.

(We recently sat together in the Year of Inquiry for a most powerful investigation on a young man’s suicide known well by one of our YOI family). 

You might think “how could answering four questions help in THIS situation?”

I find it does. Far more powerfully than often expected, if you’re willing to truly answer the questions. 

We can’t change the world, but we certainly can find peace in our thinking about the world. 

Where do you long to breathe free?

Always no fee, First Friday is offered almost every single month on the First Friday at 7:45 am. (Note: in December it’s 12/13). 

This month we are using zoom. Come by video (you can turn on or off your sound or your video–whatever if comfortable for you). You can also dial in with your phone.  

Join us here: 

Or,  dial by your location:+1 669 900 6833 US (San Jose)+1 646 876 9923 US (New York)
Meeting ID: 988 954 937

This is the new link for every future First Friday.

To see the calendar of First Fridays and all things Work With Grace visit here. 

Give The Work–the four questions and turnarounds–your tired, poor, huddled beliefs that cause suffering. Those beliefs yearning to be free, to come out into the light fby wy of inquiry in this human experience. 

Send this lost, homeless, tempest-tossed thinking keeping us awake at night, agonizing, worrying, fretting, irritated, depressed….

….to a golden shore, a lamp called The Work.

 
Everyone is welcome to First Friday. Listen-only, sharing, the ones willing to do The Work out loud. 

Everyone. 

Much love, Grace

I have been asked similar questions so often in the past six months, it’s a little uncanny. 

When I get asked a question many times, I finally listen (LOL). Some of us are a little thick.

The questions have been like this: “When are you going to have a month-to-month way to join Year of Inquiry?” or “Can I join right now, even though you already started?” or “Since I did Year of Inquiry before, how does repeating it work again?” or “Do you have a way to connect people for partnering in The Work?” (I get asked this last one a lot). 

Seriously, I’m not sure why this has been the most asked year for these kinds of questions ever.

But it has made me go through the process of considering what many of us want, need, what brings us joy and what works money-wise and time-wise.

The current Year of Inquiry is Group #10! We just got underway in September. It feels like we’ve barely begun, and I love everyone already.

The inquiries have been profound: aging mothers, bored and stuck at work, family of origin, divorce, infertility, suicide.

So here’s what I have available right now if you’re seeking community in The Work and want to join with others to stay steady in your practice, learn to facilitate (yourself or others) better and better, and open to the ever-expanding road of questioning stressful thinking….

If you have already been a part of any Year Of Inquiry in the past at any time, you are invited and welcome to join the current program in either of the following ways:

a) Join the program starting November 2019 through August 2020, which includes Summer Camp for The Mind, in one discounted total.

A great way, and inexpensive way, to connect the whole rest of the year with others, visit all the monthly topics with new fresh eyes and situations, and have partners to work with who are a part of this community.  

b) Join month-to-month for a minimum of three months. You decide when you need to pause or stop your participation. 

If you are newer to The Work, or, totally new to Year of Inquiry and you’re really wanting to join, hit reply and write to me to see if it’s a good fit. 

If you’ve never done YOI before start right away (November) through August for one fee or a monthly fee through August. If you’re new, we won’t have the coming-and-going option (yet) because my story is it’s tricky to jump into a group doing The Work without any experience doing it at all. 

But I could question that. 

I’m working on clarity for next year right now, so if you’re genuinely drawn, you feel like you can get what you need doing The Work through community and a shared journey. 

I find, there’s nothing like doing this work in the company of others. 

Which is a little funny. 

Because, my story is I come out extreme on the introverted scale, so joining with others doesn’t really seem necessary. 

Yes, I took that Myers Briggs test to score your level of introversion-extroversion and the other three personality arenas. At age 19 I came out INTP. Then age 33 or so I came out INFP. Then when my son was in high school psychology class he had me take a test online that I didn’t recognize (it was a newer version of the same thing). INFP again.

And always extreme on the introvert scale.  
On all these scores, I was so “introverted” there was almost zero extraverted affirmative answers.

(I don’t get it either). 

However, it doesn’t mean you don’t like people, groups, connection, or conversation if you’re introverted. I happen to adore people and find them and this world absolutely fascinating.

But isn’t self-inquiry a journey to ultimately take on your own in the end? 

I mean, whose mind is being questioned? Mine.

This is “self” inquiry.

Right?

Well. 

What is this “self” we’re speaking of? Is this mind, this thinking process….yours?

When I first came to do The Work, I was well aware of acute suffering within me. I knew the person sitting on the chair next to me in my first workshop with Katie did NOT have the same problems as me. Their life was unique to them. 

I was there for MY problems. I wanted ME to be different. I wanted desperately to see things more positively, and not feel so horrible about myself.

I even ignored the directions to judge my neighbor–meaning someone else–because I “already knew” it was ME who needed to change. 

Is that true, though?

Can we absolutely know it’s true?

Even if you say “yes” this is an amazing story to ponder.
It’s interesting to notice the huge argument I was having with reality, in thinking I should be different. 

These are MY thoughts. This is MY personality. This is MY problem. This is MY way of thinking. I am messed up. I am in pain. I am NOT enlightened. Something is missing for ME. If only I could be different. I need to fix this suffering I am engaged in.

What happens when you believe you just need to get yourself sorted out, fix your own thinking, change your thoughts?

I tried to do it on my own. I felt ashamed of myself. I really didn’t want other people to hear my thinking (such bad, bad thinking). I was super embarrassed the first time I read a Judge Your Neighbor to another person. 

Yikes.

Who would you be without this story?

What if it’s not YOUR story?

What if it’s simply a way the mind works; trying to survive, responding fearfully (which is not a crime),  responding with worry about dis-connection or being banished from the tribe…Human. With emotions of all types and flavors. 

Human needing support and contact with reality. Because self-critical thinking isn’t someone with a good handle on reality. 

How do we know? It hurts. 

Turning the belief around: This inquiry process is not personal. These are not my thoughts. This is not “my” personality. This is not only my problem. This is a common way of thinking. I am normal. I am in pain and will move out of pain. I am enlightened with every honest inquiry. Nothing is missing for me. If only I could be exactly the same as I am, without being against reality. I don’t need to fix this suffering I am engaged in.

Could all of this be just as true, or truer?

Without “my” story….I ask (or something asks) people to do this amazing inquiry process with me, and we look. 
Together. 

Finding out you’re not alone, through these questions, is exciting, brilliant, peaceful. 

If you need help or support in doing The Work, one place in the world you can share it with others is this Year of Inquiry group. Some people just keep on signing up for it every year. 

Apparently I’m a good candidate for the ten year plan….and beyond. I need you all. I love each and every person who joins me on this journey. You’re supporting me, just by being you. 

And even if you never join a group program, you can do this without signing up for anything. Find a mate who can ask you the four questions and listen. 

Connection is a most profound energy. We are not alone. 
Something I read at the recent autumn retreat is very profound about this position we often take as “teacher”. I am being a “teacher” to myself in a very critical way when I believe I’m wrong. My ego is bursting with being sure I’m the awful, depressive, horrible, mean, messed up one–the one needing improvement.

Who would we all be without our stories of something being a problem, where you need to teach even yourself and your own mind the “right” way to be?

“The Work is wonderful, because it leaves you with the real thing, beyond all answers. t leaves you with no concept of who you should be. There are no models, no ideals; the goal isn’t to be wise or spiritual. You just notice what is. I like to say, ‘Don’t pretend yourself beyond your own evolution.’ What I mean by that is ‘Don’t be spiritual; be honest instead.’ It’s painful to pretend that you’re more evolved that you are, to be in the position of a teacher when it’s kinder to yourself to be in the position of a student. Inquiry is about the truth, which doesn’t necessarily look the way you think it’s supposed to look.  Truth is no respecter of spirituality. It only respects itself, just as it appears now. And it’s not serious; it’s just God laughing at the cosmic joke” ~ Byron Katie in A Thousand Names For Joy, page 194

Hit reply and ask me about joining Year of Inquiry for the rest of the year (or for YOI alumni, at least 3 months any time between now and August). We’ll get you on board.

Much love, Grace

• December 5-8 I’m with the good Tom Compton as we co-facilitate a winter retreat at Breitenbush Hotsprings in Oregon (filling fast)
• Eating Peace Retreat January 15-20 in Seattle is a wonderful adventure in freedom from eating concerns, eating thoughts, consuming thoughts, worries about fatness or thinness–a few more spots (retreat house is full with the exception of a shared room for a woman–you would have a twin bed)
• Divorce/Breaking-Up/Separation Is Hell: Is It True? online course co-facilitated with the delightful Nadine Ferris France, begins again January 12-March 8 Sundays 11:00am-12:30pm PT.  

As the autumn retreat came to a close on Sunday, I was touched beyond words with the beauty of each and every participant. 

Something about The Work allows a quick dive to a very intimate connection when people gather to do it together.

You get to hear the concern, objection, suffering–even if only on one or two key topics–that people have been carrying like a burden without knowing how to set it down.

These are the thoughts we think we’re supposed to keep to ourselves. The mean, ugly, disturbing thoughts.

Thoughts like: my husband irritates me, I won’t have enough money in 18 months, my in-laws wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, my managers gossiped about me, I’m not adequate to be a mother, my son is too anxious.

Every time someone spoke their story into the room, I heard a voice that said “this is me.” 

It’s difficult for me to come up with a stressful thought to share with you, and question right in front of you like I always do, when I’m so full of gratitude, and energy, and…gratitude. 

And gratitude. 

This kind of sharing with self-inquiry flowing through everyone cuts to a deep intimacy. And quick. 

I kept thinking “these people are so brave, so fascinating, so supportive, so sincere”. 

(I get to do this again December 5-8 in Oregon with Tom Compton. A few spaces available, so call Breitenbush 503-854-2230 and join us for cozy winter retreat to question wintry thinking. I like thinking of it as solstice “enlightenment” prep). 

But. Now that I think about it. There was a moment during the retreat. As in, right in the middle of a live circle sharing time. 

Uh oh.

LOUD NOISE coming from the distance, from humans playing loud music, talking and partying, laughing and squealing. 

Wait…what?! Is that what I think it is? Really? I peek out the window.

The neighboring Amish-style lodge also overlooking an expansive Poconos forest was previously empty. Now, at least 8 people stand or sit on the wide outdoor deck off over yonder. Brown beer bottles on the banister. Sliding doors open wide, music speakers set up outside, blasting music. A hand waving a cigarette. 

Here comes the “no” from within me. 

Someone in our circle is sharing. I concentrate on her words, her face.

I want to wipe the noise away so I can keep hearing what she’s saying. 

But a voice inside of my own head is saying “the minute we break, I walk over there myself, or call the phone number that’s been listed for any trouble or issue”.

I also then feel something curious and rather wonderful, because we’re all here together at retreat perhaps and The Work is singing in everyone’s ears….

….which is the feeling of relaxed gentleness even thoughan apparent interruption has occurred. 

This is bad.

Is it true?

I see the eyes and faces of everyone in the group–no one appears the least bit concerned. The person speaking is openly speaking, not mentioning the noise.

Sun streams through the windows.

We come to a natural break moments later, and I call the number immediately for “trouble”, a man answers, and he says he’ll take care of it immediately–kindness. Moments later after that, the noise stops.

I wonder how the message was delivered so quickly, and feel appreciation at how quickly the “problem” was handled. 

I feel appreciation for how The Work is not about being passive, or saying it isn’t true there’s noise.

There was sound.

But no anger or fear or war. A message. Time to meet the happening arising in the moment called humanity-having-fun-in-their-own-particular-way. 

I did find out later, a few people in our lodge heard the other group in the other lodge during the previous night, and they had a hard time sleeping.

So another thought rose up: nothing should disturb these sweet people at this retreat, who I am responsible for. I should have been able to prevent that from happening.

I love that the four questions are here steady and waiting, ready to meet any new thought. 

It never means I don’t take action. Action comes faster without any stress about it. 

“As we do The Work, not only do we remain alert to our stressful thoughts–the ones that cause all the anger, sadness, and frustration in the world–but we question them, and through that questioning the thoughts lose their power over us.” ~ Byron Katie 

Much love,Grace

Off I go on an airplane to the east coast to facilitate a retreat for three days in The Work in an unusual place for me: Poconos Mountains, Pennsylvania. 

I can’t wait. Fall leaves changing color. Crisp air. My bags are packed and I’m ready to go. (I’m leavin’ on a jet plane….)

And, I notice a few thoughts.

One of them, I did in my facebook live where I do The Work in person right there on my page on Mondays. You’ll find it here. (Scroll down a wee bit–it’ll be the first post you run into with me on video). Anyone who wants me to do The Work on a thought you suggest, send it to me. 
Those pesky thoughts. 

They shout: “don’t forget the passport!” “put some tylenol in just in case you’re getting a cold!” “I need to know what the layout of the lodge looks like…right now!” “bring your vitamins!” “what about your charger!”

Ay me. 

The mind just loves to imagine the future. 

It needs to know what the future will look like because….without knowing, we’ll have to “wing it” as they say. 

Which won’t be easy. Or good. It won’t be perfect. It won’t be relaxing. 

It’s really much, much better to know what will happen and what the lay of the land will look like. 

Right?

Are you sure?

I notice, I never know exactly what’s going to happen. 
Perhaps this means that knowing what will happen is notcommon in reality, at least not mine. 

And not required. 

How do you react when you believe you need to know what will happen, or make sure you don’t forget anything important? Or understand exactly where you’ll be sleeping on a night when you don’t know yet?

Anxious. 

(Visions of a memory come to mind of driving in the middle of the night trying to find a camping spot in Oregon in 1992 with my first husband, and being shocked that every single hotel and camp sight was entirely packed, in August.)

Maybe you go over the list several times. Maybe you see pictures of what terrible things will happen if it goes “wrong”. The unkindness of people, feeling lost, having to suffer because you didn’t bring x, y or z. 

But who would you be without the belief you’ll suffer in the future unless you do all the things you think you need to do in order to be happy….later? 

Who would you really be, right now, without the belief you need to know, or it won’t go well, or you can prevent something dangerous from happening, or that you’ll suffer in any way at all? 

WOW. 

Isn’t it exciting? 

I love not having the thought that I need to know more than I know. Or do extra planning (unless that’s fun). 

Without the belief, I imagine the hilarity of being somewhere with lost luggage and having absolutely nothing. I imagine something liberating about that. Only the clothes on my back. Nothing missing. Nothing lost. 

The wonder arises, if you’ve ever been in that wild and fun situation, of the kindness of strangers who show up and hand you things you need, or ask if you need help, or give you a ride or a bed for the night. 

Noticing the possibility of the friendliness of the universe.
Turning it around: I don’t need to know what will happen, the layout of the land, the details. I pack my bag, and the bag may or may not appear in New York where I’ll land–maybe. 

I don’t need to know those things right now. 

Right now, I’m here in my sweet living room, getting ready to jump on the phone with the Year of Inquiry people and share in The Work (amazing group of people, I notice). 

Right now, I hear wind chimes blowing and a fly buzzing in the room. 

I get to join with myself in this quiet moment, and then shortly with others voices, as we “walk each other home”. 
That’s what someone in Year of Inquiry just said last Friday. 

It’s a quote from Ram Dass: We’re all walking each other home, step by step, supporting each other, listening, sharing, opening up, presenting our thoughts, getting other perspectives, hearing The Work. 

If this is the deep feeling in Year of Inquiry, couldn’t it be the very same in the whole wide world? 

“We’re all going to the same place, and we’re all on a path. Sometimes our paths converge. Sometimes they separate, and we can hardly see each other, much less hear each other. But on the good days, we’re walking on the same path, close together, and we’re walking each other home.” ~ Ram Dass

And today, another treat of someone whose path has converged with mine, and I’m so glad for it: Jodi Patisner.

We had a lovely talk about The Work in our lives, and Jodi shared her story of finding The Work in 2004 and all she’s encountered with it along the way. 

Speaking of sharing and retreats: I have one cot available for a woman in Pennsylvania at the gorgeous “amish-style” retreat lodge. You want to jump into self-inquiry this very weekend and walk home with us? 5-4-3-2-1 Join us! We begin Thursday 10/17 evening and end Sunday 10/20 noon. Hit reply and let me know, I’ll send you the scoop. 

Much love,Grace

P.S. In the winter months ahead, come join me for inquiry and sharing The Work:

• December 5-8 I’m with the good Tom Compton as we co-facilitate a winter retreat at Breitenbush Hotsprings in Oregon (filling fast)
• Eating Peace Retreat January 15-20 in Seattle is a wonderful adventure in freedom from eating concerns, eating thoughts, consuming thoughts, worries about fatness or thinness–a few more spots (retreat house is full with the exception of a shared room for a woman–you would have a twin bed)
• Divorce/Breaking-Up/Separation Is Hell: Is It True?online course co-facilitated with the delightful Nadine Ferris France, begins again January 12-March 8 Sundays 11:00am-12:30pm PT.