Category: Parenting

Posted on

This has been killing me since January. (Oh, wait…is that true?)

Last January 28th, on my birthday to be exact, my mom and I had breakfast in the local Honey Bear Bakery across the street from my cottage.

That late day in January almost seven months ago, we decided to take a walk in my neighborhood in the bright mid-day winter.

It was a little bit sunny, I remember. Not Raining is a thing at that time of year.

The air was fresh, cool. Soothing.

The night before I had texted my son, now living very close by in the house his father had owned before he died of cancer 18 months earlier.

My son had replied “Sure, breakfast with you and grandma sounds fun! See you there!”

He hadn’t shown up, so we ate without him.

No big deal, my mom and I said to each other. He’s so forgetful. If his head wasn’t attached by the neck to his body, he’d leave it somewhere.

We decided, as we put on our January rain jackets, to walk over to his place, knock on the door and see if he wanted to come walk with us.

We showed up at his basement apartment door.

Apologies, laughter, more apologies. There was a young woman in his apartment. We had heard about her, but not met her yet. She didn’t want to come out to meet us.

(I watched a few thoughts run through about that–she should want to meet us, if they’ve been dating for 3 months now….is it true?)

My son pulled on his tall black Hansen rubber boots to his 6 foot 4 inch tall frame.

Little did I know as we three stepped out into the lush, wet, northwest late morning that our walk would reveal a massively unexpected bit of information.

Like. Insanely unexpected.

Never, ever before imagined or wondered about.

Well, certainly not imagined for me.

During the conversation as we trod down the very center of the wide paved quiet road lined with huge tall evergreens, my mother started prodding my son with questions about his girlfriend.

My mom commented on how shy the young woman seemed. She also asked about the girlfriend’s change of pronouns to them/they/theirs.

“What’s her motivation….I mean, what’s ‘their’ motivation?” asks my mom.

“And are you thinking of changing your own pronouns?” says my mom after some discourse.

I almost want to say “don’t ask him so many personal questions–especially that one mom. Leave him alone, jeez.”

My mom has always been caring, interested, and has no hesitation asking whatever comes to her mind.

It’s been a really, really good thing, to be honest.

Even if incredibly uncomfortable sometimes growing up.

My son paused, stopped walking with tall cattails waving slowly behind him and the creek singing loudly just past the path we had turned on, both hands deep in his pants pockets….

….and said….

….”why yes, yes actually. I AM changing my pronouns. To they/them. No longer he/him. Consider the pronouns changed. I prefer they/them”.

Holy Sh*t.

I felt a rush of adrenaline.

That was the first spotlight of awareness getting revealed to me. The first piece of information that didn’t fit my expected story.

Like in a very dark black theater, I’m in the audience way back in the seats farthest away from the stage, and the show is about to begin.

BAM. You know that turn-on-the-huge-theater-spotlight sound?

All the light suddenly in a bright column on stage.

Blackness surrounding this column.

That one spotlight turns on and we see everything inside only that beam of light.

They/Them pronouns.

What does this mean?

I had not known there was a whole stage, a whole unknown world surrounding and behind the light beam of new information.

An entire world, a whole enormous set.

A set with furniture, color, atmosphere, clues, history, people, genders, anger, passion.

With one spotlight, it’s all still basically in the dark, but the audience now knows the set is there.

We know now.

I knew now.

I had seen none of it.

I hadn’t even been invited into the theater before. It almost seems I had accidentally entered this theater, pulled in by my mother and her curiosity.

A world of gender questioning and challenging in ways different from what I’ve pondered myself. Maybe.

BAM. Another spotlight turns on two weeks later when I have a further discussion with my oldest child, this being who is now they/them, and find out ‘they’ have been taking hormones to increase estrogen and decrease testosterone since October.

I almost gasp inside.

WHAT?!

The mind starts fitting puzzle pieces together from the past year. I think about how weird last Thanksgiving had been, for example. Last November. I felt like something wasn’t being said.

I had wondered on that November journey if it was just my own sentimentality since I had been to our destination many times over the years: Cannon Beach, Oregon.

It’s where I had spent a honeymoon with my children’s father, right after our November wedding in 1990.

I had wanted to talk about their dad and remember him, but something was just….off.

After the second evening together on that trip, just before dozing off to sleep, I had said to my now husband, my two children’s step father (he’s been around since the kids were 8 and 11) “Something’s off, like we aren’t talking about something. It feels weird. I can’t put my finger on it.”

BAM. Three more spotlights turn on a few more weeks later when we have a five hour conversation about gender, society, culture, depression, conditioning, suicide, rage.

Wow.

“I don’t know why, mom, it just seems right. I can’t present as a male right now in my life.”

Me in my head only [Why the hell not? You’re one of the good ones, we need you! Don’t abandon your role as man, oh please, let this not be happening. Why do all the good men leave? (Um, they don’t, let’s not get carried away).]

“No I have not consulted or told anyone at all. It seemed necessary to do this on my own and not get influenced by other people.”

[You didn’t want ME to influence you. I mean nothing to you? Mothers have no power after all. My heart is breaking. You shouldn’t care about whatever your gender is so much. You’re throwing away a great life. Sob. (Um, hello, remember “is it true?” Heh heh.)]

“No I am not interested in surgery”.

[Thank God, maybe there’s hope. Stop! Don’t! How could I have not seen this? What’s wrong with me? Is this because your dad died? Please never, ever want to get expensive surgery that will make you look confusing and weird. (Um, this doesn’t have anything to do with you? Hello?)].

“Sure I do like girls or women, yes, and you could say that makes me a non-binary lesbian, mom.”

[A lesbian with a penis? Stop the insanity! (Remember how much you like challenges to ‘normal’ and the joy of change?)].

“Quit asking me questions, do your own research! I don’t have time for five hour conversations every week.”

[My son has died. He never asked me one thing about this predicament, this concern. What is this agony? Remember how fun and comfortable you find the LGBTQ+ world–even though you don’t identify there? Why so upset?? (You sure are having a hissy fit, interesting!)]

After tossing and turning one night for hours, I knew what to do.

Write it down.

Catch the thoughts–manifest them on paper. Stop them moving so fast by writing them.

Take your own medicine, Grace.

Ask four questions on one thought at a time.

Turn it around.

Funny that I would even let a few days go by without doing The Work.

Thank goodness I facilitate The Work. It is for me, once again.

What’s that, Grace? Who’s it for?

(The court fool in the corner is holding their hand to their ear with a smile. “Who is The Work for, Ms. Bell?)

Me. Mind.

This mind, having it’s thoughts that are very dramatic, catastrophic, wail-inducing.

I do The Work. I find a crack in my story, just by watching the stress and disappointment arise and asking “who would I be without this story?”

For the next weeks, every person’s inquiry I work with, every group where someone brings pain to the surface, I see this “son” saying they aren’t my “son”.

I listen, I plug in my child’s face, I hear those who have come to be clients giving their wisdom; the lovely and thoughtful year of inquiry group, the sincere and passionate eating peace group….everyone in these groups so brilliant in their own way, here to speak their answers.

I write.

One day, I have people in one of the groups write down what they have lost, in an important situation where LOSS is the caption of the story.

I do the exercise, too.

What have I lost, when it comes to this oldest child of mine? What does it mean for me?

LOSS EXERCISE:
I’ve lost my fairy tale ending with a son
I’ve lost my SON, a boy.
And it means that…..
People will be frightened of him, and of me
I did something wrong
He’s reject-able
That beautiful version of him is dead
He is throwing his opportunity away
People will hurt him
Being the good king, being president, being in charge, being leader, being the man, being Jon Snow, being the biggest-boss-there-ever-was….is not possible.

I begin to do The Work.

I am stunned. I see how in the card deck, the King is higher than the Queen. It was always that way. I never questioned it.

Fascinating.

What if that’s not true?

I write several Judge Your Neighbor worksheets for different situations, answering the six questions to identify more of what I’m thinking. I spend time contemplating, wondering about my story.

I’m listening.

My first sentence? The crime, the offense, the thing I hate that’s happened?

“My son is killing my son”.

How bizarre. It’s like “he” should keep being THAT IMAGE.

The handsome, beautiful man I see. The one I adore. The one I delight in listening to, in talking to for hours.

I had no idea I was so set in my mind about what I saw, how I saw it, who else should see it, how it needed to be maintained and seen long-term, and what I expected to see in the future.

Wow.

Left turn.

Pivot, (as they say during pandemics).

Universe showing up for me to learn.

Pandemic thinking, catastrophic thinking, grandiose thinking. A lot of killing going on.

Do I want to fight and crush my own heart into pieces with my disappointment, or broken heart, or diseased visions for the future that could use a little upgrade, or peace?

Or do I want to be open to whatever’s unfolding?

I get to choose.

“Argue with reality, and you lose, but only 100% of the time.” ~ Byron Katie

And so the light continues to turn on, sometimes a strobe light, sometimes way too bright–until my eyes adjust.

Sometimes I wish for a blindfold, or those little delicate sandbags someone placed over my closed eyes once in a spa.

Do I really have to look? Do I have to see how much I dreamed the story to go one certain way, instead of remembering the universe is the one in charge?

Who am I without my nightmare story? Is it even “my” story?

Without this story, I’d be hearing my mother, the grandmother of my changing child, say to me on the phone last night after this child moved in with her; “This is going to be amazing. Their life could be better this way than the way it might have been without this change. This kid is fascinating….it’s going to be amazing, fabulous, wonderful. I am sooooo excited!”

These words from my mother who turned 83 two days ago.

An open mind, an unconditionally loving mind, has nothing to do with age.

Who would I be without my story?

Aware of the incredible support.

Aware of the question arising in me “that’s MY son, “my” child–is that even true?”

Aware of how much I love a future without limits, without definition.

Aware that I can also be thrilled, just like my loving mother who I adore.

I can also be full of wonder, surviving despite all the experiences and stories about pain and suffering, rejection and failure, gender and privilege.

Steady on into questioning my beliefs.

Are they even “my” beliefs?

LOL.

And so….the page-turner continues.

Life is the teacher, the guru.

All of life, everything I meet, every person I encounter.

Without my stories of what should be: son, child, dream, future, health, enlightenment, success, safety, right, money, wrong, even God….

….without “my” stories about any of this….

….something rises inside that’s like a laugh.

A joy.

Nothing serious going on here.

So Year of Inquiry is preparing for a new group of inquirers ready to journey together in The Work for a whole year.

Apparently, doing The Work is of phenomenal benefit for me, personally.

The group is part of my spiritual practice.

I love sharing The Work.

Which makes me extremely happy to know people will be coming on board and helping me stay on the peace train and discover the possibilities for whole new worlds.

The Work, especially with other people, is the one thing I can apparently do with all these wild stories careening around creating fear, agony, stress, anxiety, anger, rage, sadness and heartbreak.

I wouldn’t have the stories go any other way.

(They are rather exciting, no?)

I am so grateful I have four questions I can ask, and turnarounds I can fall into.

Like little mental wake-up slaps when I’m dozing off during a concussion. Er, I mean gentle dawning of the light.

Turned around: My thinking is killing my son, my thinking is killing me, my son is creating and giving birth to someone new.

Human being.

Thinking.

Seeing nightmares.

Human being.

Thinking.

Seeing possibilities, joy, love.

Human being.

Thinking.

Laughing at the thinking.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead

Our world-changing citizen groups start September 15th, 2020 and we work together through June 17th, 2021…followed by Summer Camp for The Mind which is always included for Year of Inquiry folks.

Our schedule?

Tuesdays 9am Pacific Time (Noon ET/ 6pm Europe or South Africa), and/or,
Thursdays 5pm Pacific Time (8pm ET/ 9am Japan Friday/ 10am Sydney Friday)
Saturdays 8:30am Pacific Time (11:30am ET/ 4:30pm UK)

Having a weekend day is by popular request for those working and busy all the time Monday-Friday.

I don’t mind.

“Mind”–LOL.

Read more about our group, the schedule, and the program right HERE: www.workwithgrace.com

I can’t wait to see what happens next.

That’s the best kind of way to live a life.

Thanks for joining me on the journey.

Much love,
Grace

Posted on

Someone else’s work inspires and becomes our own

Oh my, what fun to just begin this week the group program that runs all the way through next summer.

Year of Inquiry has officially kicked off (you can still join).

One of the things I like about it so much, is people bring their stressful situations, and as they begin to do The Work (answering the four questions) I feel the same thoughts unravel inside my own psyche.

I can relate to anyone and everyone who comes to do The Work.

In fact, it goes better when I do, as the apparent “facilitator” I almost always find a situation where I had the same thought as the inquirer.

Our beginning thoughts in our group meetings this past week were three brilliant and common situations:

1) that person is soooo negative (do you know anyone who you think of as deeply negative)?

2) I won’t ever feel like something’s come true that I really desire (have you wanted something desperately, but while it’s true for others, it isn’t for you)?

3) a whole lot rides on a decision I am making, and my decision could make it worse (have you ever felt you could make the wrong decision)?

All three of these scenarios in human life, I can find where I’ve had the same thought and felt the suffering of it.

The memory or picture pops into my mind while the inquirer shares.

In fact, all of us listening get to find where we’ve had the same thought, even though it’s about a person WE know, and an entirely different situation.

Our own.

So as I listened, I could picture a long-forgotten co-worker who I thought of at the time as supremely negative. By the end of the inquiry, I felt such compassion for her and remembered how much I learned from her at the time, and from the conflict I had inside about her.

I then recognized the thought about something not coming true that I wish for: finishing a book I started long ago and even wrote a proposal for, all of which haven’t developed further. I could sit with the idea I need that to happen…is it true?

And oh my, the one about decisions. I used to agonize dreadfully about decisions. I remember putting my children in a school, taking them out and putting them in another, taking them out and homeschooling, and putting them back into the first one. Yikes. I was terrified of making the wrong decision.

Funny how we can have something specifically about our own life up for investigation, while also closely listening and being with someone else who is speaking out loud, answering the questions, dropping into inquiry.

I love it.

My own inquiry on my own is beautiful, but honestly, never the same as with a group.

This sense of connection directly with others has a spark and energy to it that’s adventurous, unexpected.

Who would we be, without our stories?

This week, I got to speak with Helena Montelius about her life in The Work since the year 2000; almost two decades with the four questions. I have the same experience of gratitude, openness and relief just hearing her story.

To listen to the Peace Talk podcast with Helena, click here.

To watch on youtube, join us here:

Much love, Grace

Posted on

When my mind change, my children changed. But only I can change my mind.

Speaking of parenting, last Friday’s open telecall was very precious. It struck me deeply when one of the inquirers did The Work on her six year old child.

It seems like it’s one thing to judge our neighbor, our mother, our father, our sister or brother.

But our children? 

I shouldn’t be so upset! I shouldn’t lose my temper! I should be a good role model! I created this monster so it must be my fault my kid is acting like this!

I remember long ago age 14 when I babysat frequently. I loved the family–they had two girls.

I was the oldest in a family of four siblings, used to care-taking. I pulled out the crafty things I had used with my mom, art, drawing, and playing games. It was usually super fun.

Except one night the youngest, after putting her in her crib, kept crying.

She cried. And cried. And cried.

I’d go into her dark room, pick her up out of her crib, and hold her and say “there, there”. She’d kind of stop, and then the minute I lay her down again, wail.

After what seemed like an hour, I found myself sitting outside the hallway, the bedroom door closed between me and the child, holding my ears with frustration, feeling choked up and ready to scream and cry all at once.

This must be me! I’m such a loser I can’t even stop a baby from crying! She should SHUT UP!!

Fortunately, the toddler finally DID stop, falling fast asleep.

I then went downstairs to the basement (with one ear open, always, for another cry) and turned on the television to wait until the parents came home.

I forced myself to stay awake, too nervous about falling asleep if anything happened or either of the daughters needed me or started to…..cry. 

Crying is terrible, remember?

Crying is a sign of great distress. No one should ever cry in my presence. I need to help anyone who’s crying.

No. Crying. Ever. (Clenched fists).

Who might I have been at the time, without my story? Or later with a friend when he had an outburst in a movie theater? Or with my dad when he had an exceptionally rare moment of crying in my presence? Or with my husband when he cried at the performance we attended?

I would have been so much more relaxed. So much less braced for this crying thing coming at me, like it was the worst ever.

So much kinder to myself, to the crier, to the moment as it was–a moment containing human crying. The way of it.

Turning the thought around: Crying is fine (even good). Judging is OK. Being upset with a baby for crying is normal, and I can relax. There is nothing wrong with me, or with crying. 

Could these be just as true, or truer?

Could crying be a natural part of reality? I notice it is.

Turning my thoughts around again about crying: My thinking is crying, my thoughts about crying are “sad”, my own crying is normal and good and natural. 

Could this be just as true, or truer, about “crying”–this thing I seemed to be so against from a young age?

What I see is, my children brought me great gifts of showing me emotions and feelings, circumstances and situations I felt opposed to, against. These situations revealed attitudes I noticed were alive before my kids even came into this world.

My beliefs about what was “good” and “bad”, “spoiled” or “selfless”, “kind” or “mean”.

Who would you be, if you were looking at your children AND YOURSELF, with fresh, new, loving eyes?

Join me if you’d like to spend more time in this adventure.

Judge your children, your own parents, the other parents who are doing it wrong, and yourself (often the “worst” culprit of all).

It sounds crazy, but it’s the most exciting way into the fire of parenting transformation I’ve ever known.

It changes everything for the better. Let’s do The Work!

May 8 – June 26, Parenting Telecourse. I like to call it the parenting path to enlightenment.

Sounds lofty, but it’s true: Question your beliefs, change your experience of parenting.

There are two ways to witness your child: one is in peace, one is not. Either way, the child is doing what she does….When my mind changed, my children changed. ~ Byron Katie

Much love,

Grace

Posted on

I’m A Terrible Mother! (+Parenting Relief Online workshop 5/1)

May 1st 4-6 pm Pacific Time: Happy Parent Online Workshop. For those wanting to dig in to The Work on parenting, you’ll learn common stressful thoughts we parents have that keep us frightened or upset. We’ll then go through a powerful step to narrow our focus on what’s not working (so it’s more manageable), and question it.

You’ll leave with awareness of what YOU need to work on around parenting your kids to bring yourself relief, freedom and happiness. Sign up here.

When I first heard about The Work, I was intrigued but to be honest, I wasn’t necessarily saying to myself “this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for!”

It was a little confusing.

The idea of questioning my stressful thinking and transforming it somehow made sense though.

I knew first hand that when I believed something was messed up, or that I was doing something wrong….

….I felt awful.

And then, when I felt awful….I grew serious, sad, even depressed and hopeless. My attitude about life itself would take a plunge.

Starting when I was a teen, I’d also eat when I felt awful or hopeless. When I wasn’t hungry. I’d eat with guilt, worry, anger and rebellious feelings–sometimes all at the very same time.

In fact, my off-balance eating had led me in great despair to finding peace, healing, calm and exploring what the heck had made me go so far and get so bad?

But I didn’t really put it all together that my negative attitude about anything (food, people, life) produced suffering within (and weird eating) until later, after I learned how to do The Work.

The Work, I could see, was a way to identify and question disturbing ideas and find a new way of perceiving a situation that was always more peaceful or more exciting or more fulfilling.

Before then, I definitely wanted more positive ways of thinking. I sometimes called myself Eyore. You know the donkey in Whiney The Pooh? So pessimistic! Nothing’s ever going to go right!

When I first encountered The Work as a way of transforming thought, my kids were about 6 and 9 years old.

I couldn’t help but notice….I wasn’t so happy when it came to how I was with my kids at times. Not all the time, just sometimes.

They’d fight, and I’d get irritated. They’d interrupt a phone call, and I’d feel embarrassed. They wouldn’t clean up after themselves, and I felt burdened. They’d scream when I turned off the movie, and I felt annoyed. I’d want their dad to come take them away, so I could get a moment of peace and calm.

I was super tired. I was trying so hard to be a great mom.

But I was actually terrified that one simple, harsh thought might be true: I am a terrible mother.

Oh no.

If I had this thought, I’d try harder to be a good one. And get MORE exhausted.

So let’s question this thought. And if you don’t have kids you can question the thought “I’m a terrible _____”. It might be friend, partner, sibling, daughter, son, employee, spouse.

Notice the scene when you think this is true. Because I guarantee you aren’t thinking this frightening thought every minute of the day.

Is it true?

Yes. I yelled at my kids. I screamed and lost it and overrode THEIR bickering with my screams. It was like an explosion came out of me. That was bad mothering.

Are you absolutely sure it’s true?

No. I am not all-knowing. I do not have a clear thought-process going. I’m complaining, even if it’s about me. I know it’s not absolute forever for all time that I’m a bad mother. Just sometimes, and I’m not sure how helpful it is to make that declaration.

(It isn’t).

How do you react when you believe “I’m a terrible mother (or whatever identity you’re filling in there)?

Like crawling into bed with the covers pulled over. Or worse. Which would make this even more horrible. It’s hellishly discouraging to believe this thought.

So who would you be without this stressful belief? What would it be like to NOT have it?

What about the times you’re so overjoyed with your kids? Or the love you feel in your heart towards them (or the other people around)?

What if this difficult moment didn’t mean anything permanent, or didn’t mean anything blistering, horrible, or condemning….about YOU?

What if you could hold some self-compassion in this situation, just like you might for someone else who has done or encountered the same?

“As you begin to question your mind, mind loses the ability to believe that it’s a this or a that. It ceases to identify itself. It becomes free. It understands that identification is just a state of mind….The ego attempts to make sure that freedom never happens again; it attempts it through fear, it tightens in on itself.” ~ Byron Katie

I’d feel gentle, softer with the thought “I’m a terrible anything”. I’d feel curious. I might even laugh.

Turning the thought around: I’m a wonderful _____. I’m a wonderful mother. I’m a wonderful spouse, daughter, son, sibling, employee, boss, co-worker, human.

How could this be just as true, or truer?

I care. My heart is big. I try hard. I’m sincere. I didn’t get violent, I only screamed loudly. I apologized. I hugged my kids later. Everyone’s still here. I have another chance, today. I’m questioning my thoughts.

Turning the thought around again: My thinking is terrible. 

Wow.

So true. My thoughts picture the ruination of my children. My thoughts remind me of my transgressions and sins. My thoughts are super negative or mildly threatening. My thoughts are very serious, in this situation.

I love when I find it’s only a thought, not me at the core, who is terrible. My thoughts, in that situation, were running rampant on a “terrible” tour, but it was only the mind doing it’s imagination-thing.

Except for my thinking, nothing is actually terrible. Not about me, not about the world.

“When inquiry is alive inside you, every thought you think ends with a question mark, not a period. And that is the end of suffering.” ~ Byron Katie

Join me for a two-hour workshop webinar Introduction on doing The Work for stressed parents, right here ($25).

But most importantly, question your stressful thinking.

Ending the impulse to self-hatred as a correction motivator is the best thing I ever did.

I quit overeating, I quit hating my own mothering. My family became about learning. They were all my teachers.

Now that’s an exciting life to live.

Much love,

Grace

 

Posted on

Lost daughter, lost mind. I wish I had The Work back then.

Speaking of parenting.

It’s easy for me to say my kids are a breeze. My son’s 23 and my daughter turns 21 in two weeks.

They appear to be so independent, friendly, clear about what they like, exploring possibilities in the world.

And I have days and weeks where I don’t see them physically in the same room and there’s not one request for my attention or help.

I remember longing for this freedom and the ability to rest when they were toddlers. It felt like this would never, ever, ever come again.

When I look back at that time….I realize I might have lifted a huge load of weight from my early mothering experience if I had known I could do The Work.

I could have questioned my thoughts like:

  • I don’t have enough time
  • I am responsible for their happiness
  • I need to do this alone (without other moms, for example, to hang out with)
  • I can’t leave them
  • I’m the only one who knows exactly what they need
  • they need to never suffer
None of these were true. They were incredibly stressful thoughts to think.

 

But here’s one of the most interesting things about my list of worries, complaints, concerns, hopes or dreams for my children: When I boiled it down, I did not trust reality. 

 

But is it true that life will hurt your kids?

 

Think about the plights that people go through: loss, injury, disease, death of others, war.

 

Every human goes through “loss” of all these kinds when living life.

 

These are painful. They hurt. These events cause suffering.

 

Is it absolutely true? Are we sure?

 

I can’t be sure anymore.

 

I’ve sat in The Work with other people and with my own torments and found, shockingly, repeatedly, that awful things are survivable. I’ve found that happiness can flower even after horrible things have occurred.

 

How do you react when you believe life will hurt (see mental list of bad things that can happen)?

 

I’m afraid. I’m cautious. I use a lot of energy to prevent my kids from suffering. I say “yes” to them when I really do mean “no”. I clench inside if they wail. I see pictures in my head of bad things happening that I’ve heard about in the movies.

 

I worry.

 

One night, before I knew of The Work….I had an interesting experience of fear.

 

My then-husband, 3-year old daughter and 5-year old son had been in our new home for about six hours. Dusk grew to dark. We’d have our first sleep in our new place.

 

Boxes were stacked in every room. My then-husband and I were cutting them open, heavy into the unpacking process, making beds, fussing about from kitchen to living room to office to closets.

 

Finally, it was way past time to put out the lights and start a new day tomorrow.

 

I glanced in at my five year old son, in his new bedroom, already building a lego set in a small space on the floor surrounded by cardboard boxes and stacked furniture.

 

I made my way down the hall to my little daughter’s new room with a lavender wall and said “OK, tiny, let’s get your PJ’s on!”

 

She wasn’t there.

 

I called her name. No answer.

 

My husband was putting clothes into our dresser in our room. No daughter in there with him.

 

We began calling her name. My son came running.

 

The main kitchen door had been left standing open as it was a gorgeous Pacific Northwest summer night. It exited to the carport and the dark strip of woods between us and our neighbors, beyond.

 

I rushed through the door and called my daughter. My heart started beating faster and the tension to rise. I spun back into the house thinking it was impossible she’d be outside, so unfamiliar. We started looking under every table and in every room. I was literally running through the rooms, and then back outside again with a flashlight calling her as I shone the light into the woods, retracing my footsteps.

 

Soon the neighbors were helping us, with their flashlights. They looked through the entire house as well, and asked us all the same questions “When do you remember last seeing her? What was she wearing? Does she wander as a three year old–is this normal for her?”

 

Finally, feeling nauseated with fear….we called the local police.

 

Our first night in the new beautiful house. What a terrible omen. This is so horrible. I felt choked up.

 

The police arrived in 3 minutes. (It turned out the police station was 2 blocks away).

 

Two officers came in with their blue uniforms and said they’d like to take a look through the entire house first before doing anything else.

 

I was wringing my hands, thinking of kidnappings, or my little three year old fallen down the hill in the woods, sick with clammy sweat, my mind filled with terrible images.

 

I was saying things like “I’m so stupid” to myself, “I should have watched her closely in this new neighborhood” and “I can’t believe I left the door open” like the very neighborhood itself was suddenly a bad place and I should have been aware of it.

 

I followed the policemen down the hall and stood watching them look through every nook and cranny we had already examined: the closets, under the bed, behind and inside cardboard boxes on the floor, the dresser drawers.

 

As we entered my daughter’s new little bedroom, almost the last room to check, I saw a huge pile of all her stuffed animals dumped in the corner….and one of them moved.

 

Instantly, I felt ridiculous.

 

She had shifted while sound asleep under her stuffed gorilla, her favorite monkey, about five stuffed teddy bears and multiple beanie babies of all shapes and sizes.

 

The policemen said that 98% of the time with lost children, they’re only sleeping somewhere strange.

 

Jeez.

 

I tell this story, because my mind went absolutely ape-sh*t as we used to say, with visions of horror.

 

It was so very unnecessary.

 

Nothing happened except in my imagination, in my thinking.

 

But when I consider these types of fear-riddled moments, I see they came out of the belief “the world is a dangerous place”. That there’s loss. The world takes things I love away from me, including my children. There’s not enough to go around. One has to be very careful.

 

What has been profoundly helpful, is to go back to everything I’ve ever thought of as frightening that actually DID happen (supposedly), and to write down all my thoughts about that experience and take them through the four questions and turnarounds.

 

As I’ve looked at the “worst” things that ever happen to people in life (and sometimes that’s all it took to scare me is hearing third hand about stories)….

 

….I keep finding it’s not as bad as I thought. Ever.

 

Even if they’ve actually happened. I really mean it.

 

“One thing I love about the past? It’s over.” ~ Byron Katie

 

Who would you be without your stressful story of danger lurking out there in the future?

 

“Don’t lose your place. Don’t press Enter. Don’t log on. Only look. Observe. Stay with it. There’s a witnessing of this. Keep quiet. You may feel a lot of energetic noise. Your eyes go blurred in so many directions. But you are just the awareness within which this movement happens. Don’t judge. Don’t interpret. Keep quiet….Identify the presence that watches without boundary, and you’ll come to a point of complete stillness.” ~ Mooji

I notice things come, and things go. Including life itself. In the very moment of birth, death is inevitable.

Who are we without our fears?

Let’s keep finding out. It’s so much better than the alternative. It’s so much better than suffering, suffering and suffering.

Much love,

Grace

P.S. Today at 3:00 pm facebook to talk about the strange turnarounds for “the worst that could happen” becoming “the best that could happen”……Join me on the page here.

Posted on

She was so rude

Last weekend at the monthly Living Turnarounds Group (people to show up in person in Seattle and do The Work for 4 hours) a lovely inquirer shared a moment from childhood.

She had done something so many of us have done when we’re kids.

Jump out from behind a door to surprise someone, full of joyful, playful intentions.

I remember doing it with my sisters. Accompanied by growls or roars. A wild fluttering feeling of adrenaline might happen for both the one surprising, and of course the one being surprised.

But something about the story was perfect for me, to make obvious how blind spots can live right in front of us.

Her work was marvelous. The inquirer considered thoughtfully every question. The group listened closely, following along, captured by the inquiry process.

Even though I was the one asking the four questions, I was right there too, seeing the scene, doing my own internal inquiry about what it’s like when someone reacts to our “surprise” unexpectedly.

What if they take it the wrong way? What if our efforts aren’t acceptable in someone else’s experience? What if we’re too much?

What if we offer something….and a person says “NO!”?

I remember an incident with a similar quality with my daughter many years ago. I had gathered several movies, popcorn to make on the stove, and envisioned my daughter and I spending Friday night together at home.

When she came in the door late afternoon on Friday, I beamed and clapped telling of my great plans for us.

“Mom.” She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Those are the dumbest movies ever.” Then off she went to her own bedroom, leaving me in silence a moment, staring after her.

About twenty minutes later, I had a little chuckle. Who would I be without the thought that she was rude to me?

Noticing my own lovely, quiet Friday full of projects, writing, and meditation. Noticing the possibilities. Having a few passing exchanges with my daughter when she emerged from homework and listening to music in her room. Letting the evening unfold however it did. Sharing with her later that her response was a bit harsh-feeling for me. Hearing her immediate apology.

Other times, we had long talks. It just wasn’t THAT night. Mom.

So there we were in this kind of inquiry in our half-day retreat, arriving at the last step: finding the turnarounds.

The original thought for the inquirer’s situation: he exploded at me.

Turned around: he didn’t explode at me. True, found the inquirer. Only with sound and words did something happen. No bombs actually went off. No physical objects went flying. It wasn’t ALL at her specifically–the sound dispersed throughout the entire room, walls, ceiling, floor, furniture all evenly.

In my situation, I can find how my daughter wasn’t rude to me. She simply shared what was true for her in the moment, without any special regard for me (in a good way). She was free to say no. Uninhibited. Clear. No wishy-washy happening. Not sitting through a movie she disliked to make her mom happy, or anything weird like that.

Turned around again: I exploded at me. The inquirer found how when she reminded herself of the incident, she was forever cautious. She maintained pictures of other similar encounters. She told herself passionately to never let it happen again. She called herself bad for triggering the incident. These were inner explosive thoughts towards herself, experienced within.

I could find how in my situation I was harsh or rude with myself. I called myself dumb to have built up expectations for a Friday evening, without asking. I used the “no” against myself, taking it personally and telling a story of a daughter who doesn’t want to do anything with me. Which is so untrue. I suffered because of her response.

Turned around again: I exploded at him. The inquirer went a little blank. What? This is so common for us all who love to inquire. Which is one of the things I love about groupinquiry, and what I got so inspired and sort of amazed by a second later.

Because someone spoke up. “Well, you jumped out and set up the ‘surprise’ in the first place, right? Wasn’t that an explosion?”

LOL.

I don’t know what was so wonderful about it for me…it just had such a sweetly OBVIOUS example right out in the forefront. The first explosion began….with her.

It doesn’t really matter if the explosions had different tones or shapes or sizes….it’s noticing everyone is in the game.

And in my situation I am the one who was a bit rude, made assumptions, planned my kid’s evening without asking, picked out movies without more input.

It’s so precious to know we play a part in the whole theatrical movement of any situation.

It doesn’t mean we’re at fault, they’re not at fault, or there won’t be consequences. It becomes fault-less, curious, sometimes hilarious, fascinating.

It becomes lighter.

I notice life moved on, explosions and rude tones became silence again, new possibilities emerged.

Everything changing.

Even our perceptions of the past.

“I already please everyone, and I already have everyone’s approval, though I don’t expect them to realize it yet.” ~ Byron Katie

Much love,

Grace

P.S. Introduction to The Work on Parenting 2 hour online mini-retreat Tuesday May 1st from 4:00-6:00 pm Pacific Time. $25. Sign up here. There will be slides to watch on your computer or device, and we’ll also do The Work!

Posted on

He’ll suffer unless I feed him NOW (and the goofy thing I did when I believed it)

I had to chuckle the other day.

I was interviewed about The Work and Parenting and Jacqueline Green the wonderful host mentioned my story of nursing my firstborn child and how stressful it was for me one time.

Because I was nursing him in the car.

On the freeway.

While I was in the front seat, and he was in his carseat in the back directly behind me.

My husband was at the wheel.

Yes, I was actually hanging over the back of the seat, leaning over my baby with one breast out so he could nurse, stop crying, and go back to sleep.

Which he did.

I so wish I had The Work at the time.

I was filled with a reaction to his cries and that it meant I must rush wildly in emergency mode to respond to his needs, that we couldn’t wait to pull over.

Good lord.

I called it my crazy gymnastics move and I’m sure my then-husband thought I was completely mad.

Which I was, to be honest.

Mad with the belief that crying meant terrible suffering meant abandonment, and it was imperative that I put myself in actual physical danger. Not to mention it’s illegal to be without a seat belt, for good reasons. (Can you imagine if a cop had seen me and pulled us over?)

Who would I have been without that deeply stressful story?

A calm mother suggesting we need to take the next exit and stop a moment. Noticing all is very well indeed, it’s simply a baby crying, and I’m listening.

I remember doing The Work on this incident several years later, looking back on that situation.

With the thought my son’s crying meant “CALL 911 FEED THE BABY NOW” I felt almost panicked inside. It was interesting to sit with what I had been thinking. All those meanings I had put on that cry, and that moment.

I thought he could be hurt, feel abandoned, and suffer from hunger. I thought I’d be a bad mother if I didn’t show him I cared, and was there.

But when I turned these thoughts around, I saw that I was the one who believed in abandonment and terror of hunger. I couldn’t go five minutes when I felt hungry without being scared or thinking I should remain hungry so I would be thinner (even if I hated it). It was so stressful to be hungry, I had lived with completely whacko eating since I was 18 (even earlier).

I was hearing my own cry for normal, calm response (especially with food) and taking care of myself in a sweet way, instead of believing I both should and should not be hungry at the very same time.

I also saw in the turnarounds that my baby was OK. He wasn’t having some big emotional panic, he was just being a baby and crying in that moment. It didn’t mean I was a bad mother that my baby cried.

Thank goodness for The Work.

It has helped me question similar thoughts about needing to respond to my kids (now 20 and 23) like it’s an EMERGENCY….when it actually isn’t.

I notice I can trust reality to do what it does.

Even the “worst” abandonment we can imagine–the parent that never comes, vanishes, even dies….

….I can even take this kind of trauma and agony to self-inquiry, to question the meanings I’ve placed on people coming and going, on people living and dying, on what kind of response is required for happiness, in any situation.

This takes a radically open mind, and nothing less than an open mind is creative enough to free you from the pain of arguing with what is. And as long as you think that you know what should and shouldn’t happen, you’re trying to manipulate God. This is a recipe for unhappiness.” ~ Byron Katie

Who are we as parents without our painful beliefs?

Willing, patient, OK with not knowing what to do, full of humor….happy.

If you want to see the interview I did today (the one with the nursing-in-the-car story) you can find it by signing up here and watching for free for the next 48 hours.

Much love,

Grace

P.S. If you want to read my nursing story I mention above, and much more about parenting and our thoughts….you can download it here.

Posted on

With inquiry I didn’t stop the problems…they just stopped.

PeaceTalk Episode 141: When my kids were younger, I was virtually obsessed with their well-being, especially when it came to them attending school(s). Regular school, homeschool, what was the “right” or “best” way? Thank goodness I was exposed to The Work when they were 7 and 10, and I could question my belief “I am responsible for their happiness and education”. Listen here:

http://peacetalk.libsyn.com/website

There’s something especially beautiful when we go through this process of self-inquiry, step by step, and then have a little light-bulb moment of surprise (or a huge in-breath and gasp).

We find a turnaround that brings a smile to our faces. A discovery. Even laughter.

Living our turnarounds is where a particularly beautiful transformation seems to happen when it comes to questioning stressful thinking, for all of us.

It’s the last step in The Work.

First, we take a stressful belief through the four questions, starting with asking if what we’re thinking is actually true?

Then, we study what it’s like, what we’ve been like, what we see happening, what we notice, and how we’ve reacted because we’ve believed this troubling thought.

But then, the fun really begins.

Who would we be without that thought?

Yes…without THAT thought. The one you’ve thought so many times. Like “she abandoned me” or “life is hard” or “they don’t love me” or “I need more_____”.

What if you didn’t think it?

This is an exercise using your imagination. You don’t have to automatically already BE the one who isn’t thinking it. That’s too difficult. If you’re thinking about pink elephants in the room, or the mean world out there….too late. You’re already thinking.

But you have such a genius imagination, so it’s only about wondering, creating, seeing who you WOULD be without your stressful belief?

Then, we find all the turnarounds we can. She didn’t listen to me? Turned around: I didn’t listen to myself. He didn’t love me? I didn’t love him. They didn’t accept me? I didn’t accept myself. He ruined my life? I ruined my own life. I don’t have enough money? I don’t have enough of myself.

If something “clicks” and feels curious, fascinating, or “wow”….

….then we might have hit a turnaround we know we want to live, to work with, to practice, to hold in our hearts.

We might ask ourselves the question “If we lived this turnaround we’ve found….what would it look like? What would it feel like? How would we talk, act, walk, be?”

Last Friday morning (Pacific Time) on the First Friday call….we filled out, slowly and methodically, a Judge Your Neighbor worksheet on a stressful situation.

I love how everyone has a completely and entirely different situation custom made for their own life, totally unique to their experience….and yet on the page we all write the same kinds of thoughts.

He wants me to…..She doesn’t think I can handle….They don’t like me when…..I hated that they…..

It’s actually wonderful that your thoughts come right out of you, without editing, and you get to write them down. They’re stuck there, on paper. They can’t move or wiggle away.

Good.

At the end of your inquiry work, you can feel what it’s like to be aware of a wider, different, grander perspective.

Who knows what can happen when you become aware of a different way of believing, thinking, noticing or being when it comes to your stressful relationship or situation?

Not long after I got off the First Friday call, a sweet inquirer wrote me a note.

She said that after her inquiry the previous First Friday on nobody caring about an important health concern in her life, she easily found someone who DID care. She got something handled that she said was the best it felt in 55 years.

She let go of needing to go to where she always had gone, and went somewhere new….after questioning the belief “they don’t care about me”. She found the turnarounds “I don’t care about myself” and “they DO care about me” and “I don’t care about them”.

It all came together to a living turnaround that carried her right into a new and satisfying solution.

WOW.

Hearing her turnaround, I felt so happy to be witnessing The Work.

That’s what I know to do: question what I’m thinking that feels off, or hurts…and discover the safety, clarity, happiness or joy I was missing.

The Work uncovers blind spots. Who knows what can happen then.

“The turnarounds are your prescription for health, peace, and happiness….

….Through these realizations, the doing changes. I was the same as you. I couldn’t change. I couldn’t stop hurting my children and myself. But as I realized what was true for me, with the questions alive inside me, the doing changed. The problems stopped. I didn’t stop them; they stopped. It’s just that simple.” ~ Byron Katie in Loving What Is

Much love,

Grace

P.S. I’ll be a part of a pretty incredible summit of speakers where the focus is parenting….but my part will be sharing about doing The Work. I’ll be sharing how questioning our thoughts about our kids, ourselves, our own parents can change our lives. To sign up for free, click here.

Posted on

Parenting Relief: The Work (+ the Great Parenting Show)

Sign up for the parenting telecourse starting May 1st

Not all of us have children….but if you do, no matter what age they are….

….you may notice you’ve thought some stressful thoughts about them and their welfare, their lives, their personalities, their successes or failures, their safety, their feelings, their attitudes.

And even worse, you’ve probably had some stressful thoughts about YOU being a less-than-perfect mom or dad.

Or maybe a horrible one.

Ouch.

Deciding to have kids felt like one of the biggest, most profound decisions of my life. (We could question if it was a “decision” that “I” made).

Little did I know, I’d have so much agony and ecstasy in my relationship with them.

The first time I ever put my first born into his car seat and drove somewhere, I was stunned with the awareness that this little tiny human being was totally dependent.

On me. And my safe driving. YIKES!!

I actually thought “what have I done?” even though I was overjoyed at his birth.

My heart was so full, and I wanted also to protect him with a fierceness I had never experienced about anyone.

What I see now, that I didn’t quite see back then even after I had my second baby, was how having kids made me aware of my beliefs about the world, about reality, about life.

And they weren’t exactly peaceful.

The world could hurt them! The world could betray them! They could die (oh, right–they actually WOULD die one day)! They could feel heartbreak, abandonment, fear!

How could I have forgotten all the difficult and terrible possibilities that can happen in life?!

And then there’s ME! I’m so unskilled, I’ve made mistakes, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Jeez. So much could go wrong!!

Oh sure, I know the world could also support them, excite them, be thrilling and gorgeous and beautiful. The world could love them, bring out their genius, creativity, ideas.

But.

Ugh.

(Worry, worry, worry).

The best thing that ever happened for me, when it came to being a parent and relating to my children as they grew up?

Finding The Work of Byron Katie.

Because then, I could question my frantic believing, my irritation, my complaints, find my turnarounds, and notice new ways to be with these humans (and most importantly, with myself).

I sat in meditation with stressful thoughts like: he got hurt, she’s suffering in school, he needs his coat, she’ll fail if she doesn’t learn to read, he lost a friend, she’s not safe, he’s too shy, she won’t listen to me, he shouldn’t smoke, she shouldn’t yell, they don’t understand me, I need them to stay alive….and be totally happy and successful while doing it.

Who would we be, without the beliefs our kids should never, ever suffer, fail, be heart-broken, feel sad, get hurt, feel scared, or even die?

This doesn’t mean we don’t care.

It’s not about being passive or detached or weird. I notice I adore my children and care about everything they’re doing.

Without these kinds of beliefs, though, about the worrisome things that could happen, I find a deep and profound freedom present about life, and the world, and how we’re all here temporarily….including our kids.

Without my stressful beliefs, I’m so much more relaxed and available instead of freaking out if they’re “late” or unhappy, or “failing”.

Without the old beliefs, there’s an out-breath.

What a relief.

Turning the thought around: So much could go right!!

How could this be just as true, or truer?

Do you notice how sweet it is to find the examples of everything that’s going “right”? This includes YOU, your own learning, the gifts you bring uniquely to the dance of parenting.

Turning the thought around again: my thinking could go wrong (not the world). 

So true! My awful-izing was always worse than what actually happened.

At least five years ago, I received a wonderful invitation by a woman by the name of Jacqueline Green. She had a radio program called the Great Parenting Show. She was curious about The Work. She wanted me to come on her show. It was one of my first radio interviews.

A few years passed, and she came to one of my retreats in Seattle. Then she took the parenting teleclass I offer every year or two. Then she had her clients, who were all moms focusing on becoming awesome parents, participate in an introductory class I offered on parenting and The Work.

She says she feels transformed by learning to question her thoughts. (She speaks of herself as going from parenting disaster to master).

This past year, Jacqueline and two of her staff have been enrolled in Year of Inquiry (YOI)! I don’t know how many people she’s sent to my retreats, or for solo sessions in parenting issues.

Jacqueline and her staff members are such wonderful YOI participants, amazing moms, dedicated to reflecting on the way they are with their children and all the people in their lives….and questioning the thoughts that scare, hurt, sadden, or anger them.

Super inspiring.

And now, Jacqueline’s invited me to join her for a special Complimentary Parenting Show where many experts will be interviewed and offering their sharing to the world for free.

On this season, you’ll join Jacqueline in her years of expertise as she sits down with many parenting-related experts including not only me but the following fascinating people. (I can’t wait to watch their interviews).

1. Dr. Ned Hallowell, psychiatrist and author of books that include Superparenting for ADD, Driven to Distraction, and The Childhood Roots of Adult Happiness

2. Dr. Laura Markham, best-selling author of books that include the recently released Peaceful Parenting, Happy Kids Workbook, and Peaceful Parents, Happy Siblings

3. Dr. Daniel Siegel, psychiatrist and best-selling author of books including the The Whole-Brain Child, No-Drama Discipline, and Yes Brain

4. Patty Wipfler, founder of the HandinHandParenting organization and author of Listen,

5. Alison Armstrong, relationship expert, author of books including The Keys to the Kingdom,

6. Dr. Bruce Lipton, acclaimed biologist and author of books including The Biology of Belief

These experts and authors, and the other 14 including me, will be answering questions like how to help your child build a caring and self-disciplined brain, how to cultivate courage, and curiosity….and how to build emotional support you need for parenting.
I will of course be talking about The Work.
This is the 7th Great Parenting Show (GPS). I’m so honored to be a part of it. It starts in 5 days and runs until April 20th and it’s completely free of charge for anyone.
To sign up for the complimentary Great Parenting Show, please register here.

Much love,

Grace

Posted on

No one can deprive you of water. Or love.

Sibling rivalry.

We’ve all heard the term, we know what it is.

But ugh, when you feel it yourself….it’s very painful.

And it doesn’t have to be “sibling” to hurt. Rivalry in any form, between any two people or groups, can turn very sour, very heart-breaking.

People frequently feel this kind of angst with their former spouse, with a boss who fired them, with a friend who shocked them, with a partner who betrayed them.

Rivalry.

But for me this past weekend, it was rivalry of the sibling kind.

I did or said something, or the whole family did or said something, or our mother did or said something…..and now one sibling has been radio silent for about a year.

Until.

The big extended family function that just happened.

How many times has an inquirer contacted me to do The Work when a wedding, funeral, graduation or other kind of ceremony is scheduled, and they anticipate seeing their rival?

It’s OK when they aren’t around, but being in their presence incites the pain all over again, and the fear.

At least, that’s what I noticed happened with me.

It was almost embarrassing, because I “thought” I had done The Work on this person. I had remembered so many moments from childhood I appreciated with her. I knew I loved her so very much–love was not the issue. I had become aware of how much I admired her. I accepted she needs a sabbatical. I left her alone.

But the lack of acknowledgement hurt. The silence.

It all appeared in an instant.

The family event is underway. People are cooking, tables are set. Big greetings and hugs are happening as people who haven’t seen on another for years connect. Ooohs and aaaahs and sounds of joy fly into the air. The big day has arrived.

And then, someone whispers that the relative in question just showed up. “She’s here!”

What do I do? A wave of nervousness runs through my stomach. I’ll be so very happy if she approaches. Anything, something.

Nothing.

During the entire day of festivities, conversations, then evening celebration. Nada.

The hurt comes waving through. Like a voice from a 5 year old child.

She hates me. 

Here’s my proof. No eye contact. No words. No connection attempted.

Super awkward.

Other siblings don’t seem to have the same trouble with it (I check in with two of them). They appear unruffled and Whatever about it.

So not only does she hate me, but other family members are more mature and relaxed and detached about this person. I must really have a problem. My mind is racing. I feel even worse.

I begin to do The Work. Again. But this time, a new and different thought, and from the point of view of an inner five year old.

The word “rivalry” comes from a Latin word for stream or brook (rivus). The root word “ri” is run or flow. Rivalry are two people who share the same stream of water. Or really, two people who compete for it.

Water is a necessity of life. The physical body will die without it.

I often notice, humans (including me) feel that love is a necessity of life. Acceptance, connection, intimacy. The sense that we’re supported, or wanted.

Interesting that this word “rivalry” focuses on the competition for one source, only one winner, people who are equals in their need to share the stream feeling threatened.

In the sense of Sibling Rivalry, the source of this flow is mother or father. Or both. The feeling within is somehow that I’m not going to get it, I’m left out, I’m lost, I’m potentially rejected. The parent isn’t going to give me what I need. What I need is scarce.

And then….the belief that the person competing with me wants me gone, out, shut off, silenced.

She hates me!

Is it true?

Yes. OK, no. I can’t know this is true. In fact, deep down I know we have a powerful connection.

How do I react when I think this thought that she hates me, is threatening me, can’t be bothered to make contact with me?

Awful. Frightened. I want to escape and get out of here. I want to be as far away from this as possible. She should stay on her end of the stream. Or find another stream.

Sometimes, people have reported to me that they feel absolutely horrible about themselves. Discarded like garbage. Unwanted (by lovers leaving them especially).

I noticed I had pictures flashing through my mind of her stony, mean face. I heard her saying nasty things (she didn’t actually say anything). I started thinking it’s perfectly fine not to have her in my life. I make mental lists of what I don’t like about her, trying to justify my position.

But who would I be without my very painful story of hate, of rivalry, of needing her love?

Wow.

I almost couldn’t do it, yet the question hung in the air throughout my time at the big family celebration.

Who would I be without this “problem” on my mind?

Who would I be without this fearful story?

Watching life, people make kind and loving connections. Noticing she’s a part of the family, and her presence is welcome. So is mine. Watching us all share in the stream of life, imperfectly having our hard times or our caring times.

Everyone simply being human.

No one doing it wrong.

Seeing that it’s on my mind, then it isn’t on my mind. Watching me not reach out myself, feeling insecure, feeling like it’s BIG and OMINOUS, then watching me forget about it for an entire conversation with someone in the family, a niece, an aunt, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle, a second cousin once removed, the new partner of a cousin, a great uncle.

Feeling the hot sun, resting in the shade, watching a flock of birds overhead all making unusual bird sounds calling to one another.

Turning the thought around: she loves me, I hate myself, I hate her.

I study this energy I’m calling “hate” that I’ve thought is coming from her.

I notice I have no idea what it is, and I can’t say it’s coming from her either. This thing called “hate” feels very strong, centered in the heart, explosive, wild, mysterious, loving.

Wait….did you say loving?

Haha. Yes.

I see the energy of hate is an energy that says “you matter to me!”

Even if the way you think that person matters is negative, or that you need to get away from them, that they are your rival.

By definition, this rivalry I feel means I am sharing the river with this person. I can’t help it. Sharing is happening.

In this experience of apparently being in the presence of someone who is Other than me, I’m loving myself, I’m hating myself, I’m loving them, I’m hating them, I’m believing they are hating me, and loving me too.

All crashing together like a gigantic wave.

Part of the family events for the weekend included a river float trip. Everyone receiving their own inner tube and paddles, getting taken in a van up the river to float home over a 4 hour ride.

The river held the entire family. All the bodies, ages, emotions.

The river shared by almost 40 people, and 4000 more (truly) on a hot summer day in a gorgeous, cold, gentle river.

Eagles flying overhead, wild ducks and half-grown babies all following the mother, big trout flashing down below the surface, long brown carp hugging the bottom, fresh sweet water rolling along, big round rocks and boulders to swerve around under the surface.

Sharing was happening, and competition was not required. A faster speed to the finish line was not desired, or required. Survival was not threatened. There was enough comfort, pleasure, peace, sunscreen. Excitement on a moment of rapids, food enjoyed from the tube with the cooler in it, water to drink, sights to see, a time of quiet with eyes closed, moving along without trying.

A great humanity was on this cool river together, including anyone and everyone’s supposed rivalry. Or lack of rivalry. (And by the way, I never saw the person who hates me the entire time–she was somewhere far behind me I’m not even sure where). All of us sharing the stream. Whether people were speaking to each other, or not, or knew one another, or were related, or strangers, or neighbors, or had something to say, or not.

Could it be possible to I’m moving along down the stream, and so is everyone else?

Yes.

And suddenly, the feeling of living the turnaround turns a corner for the first time in a year, after many moments of inquiry and exploration and wonderings and investigation of fear, pain, disappointment, or anger and feeling misunderstood and unloved.

And I take out a pen and paper, ready to write a letter to this person I care about so much, of how I wind up “hating” myself and believing I am hated and thinking I’m cast out, with not enough peace to survive…..and how untrue that all is.

“This is an insane belief. People should stop judging people? What planet do you think you’re on? Make yourself at home here: When you come to planet Earth, you judge us and we judge you. That’s it. It a nice planet to live on, once you get the ground rules straight…..So I’ll strike a deal with you. When YOU stop judging THEM for judging you, then go talk to them about judgment. It may take awhile. No one can deprive me of my family–no one but me.” ~ Byron Katie in Loving What Is 

I like the “it may take awhile” part.

It takes the time it takes, and you may continuously and regularly get to practice.

Just keep going. Like the river itself. Flowing along to the sea.

Much love,

Grace

P.S. Two hour entirely free online immersion course TEN BARRIERS that BLOCK THE WORK on August 22nd at 8:30 am Pacific Time (like, for example, hating yourself for not being farther along). Love to have you with me there. Q & A at the end on the new Year of Inquiry starting September 5th. Register for the live class right HERE.