Ask a Facilitator: Won't My Kids Run Wild?

Q: Carol, those of us with kids could use some inspiration. I've had trouble applying The Work here at home. We are such an applications-oriented society (well, we're an applications-oriented family, anyway) that if you don't have a solution/process/procedure/outline you can throw at a perceived behavioral issue, you're sort of left gasping. So doing The Work hasn't felt adequate or proactive enough.

I've often wondered if there are people who use inquiry in their family life with terrific results. (Yeah, I know about Katie's daughter Roxanne, but she seems like a special case!) I think many of us parents are afraid to trust The Work. I certainly have this feeling that if all I did was do The Work, instead of intervening and dealing out consequences for fighting and rudeness, our entire household would blow up, the kids would run wild, my marriage would end, and the dog would run away.

A: Who says you'd just do The Work? Questioning your thoughts doesn't mean you won't have rules in your home. Still, like it or not, kids—like every other human being—do what they do. Sometimes they smack their sisters and brothers, cut classes, experiment with drugs and alcohol, talk back, have early sex, don't do their homework, won't clean their rooms, prefer others' company to ours, cling too tightly to us, are colicky and fussy infants, grow up to ride motorcycles, become philosophy majors instead of going to law school.

If what we're doing doesn't "get results," at the very least, we can understand the reasons why our children's behavior is troubling to us...which may alleviate the reactivity that doesn't help them or us. Out of that clarity might come better solutions than the ones that haven't worked...including kids who feel loved and heard, and who might come up with solutions themselves.

This is what I hear most often from parents who do The Work: they come to realize they love their children as they are. In the peace of that discovery, as parents they are better listeners, more supportive, and less fearful. Behavioral changes (in themselves as well as their children) often happen in ways never brought about by punishment.

Sometimes these parents also end up with kids who, when scolded, love to admonish mom and dad to "turn it around." Let's face it: aren't they right? (And that doesn't mean there are no consequences for them when they knowingly do something that's not okay with you.)


©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

Thoughts about Jill Bolte Taylor and The Work of Byron Katie

What if the truth of who and what we are were already contained in our brain circuitry? In other words, what if "enlightenment" is a function (or dysfunction) of the brain?

Here's a video from the TED website that's getting a lot of link-love. Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor "suffered" a stroke that deteriorated her left brain, the hemisphere that processes information. She says, "I essentially became an infant in a woman's body."



Herewith, a summary of her findings and experience:

The right brain is where the awareness of "unity consciousness" lives. It also witnesses the activity of the left brain. The left hemisphere is linear, methodical, all about the past and future. It takes everything that the past has ever learned and projects it into the future. The left brain relies on language as the connector to "reality." It's the hemisphere that says, "I know" and "I am."

Dr. Bolte Taylor temporarily lost her language center—and her "I am"—as a result of her brain hemorrhage. She felt at one with everything that is, no physical boundaries, no connection to the "story" that creates separation. She calls her experience "a wave of clarity" and "nirvana."

Suddenly the left hemisphere kicked back in, and there was a problem with this! Thirty-seven years of emotional baggage returned in an instant.

We could say that the times her left brain was working were the moments Dr. Bolte Taylor was "functional." She knew she was having a stroke, that she needed to get to a hospital, that she probably couldn't drive. It was the brain's "dysfunction" that let her know she was not the "doer," that the stroke was a "stroke of insight" into the way we live our lives...and this at once allowed her to surrender the fate of her body, and, once she saw she was still alive, motivated her to recover—a process that took eight years.

"Who are we?" Dr. Bolte Taylor asks. "We are the life-force power of the universe...and we have the power to choose, moment by moment, who and how we want to be in the world."

It's a beautiful, life-affirming story...and I am left with questions.

Do we really have that power to choose our reality? I am not convinced; if we're not in charge of this thing called life, how do we have any power to choose anything? Dr. Bolte Taylor seems to contradict herself here. If The Work has taught me anything, it's that everything that can be pointed to by language and reasoning is not "it." "I choose how to show up" and "I show up choicelessly" are both thoughts, nothing more. That takes a lot of pressure off.

Is knowing "the truth" as simple as a matter of biology? Could it be that everyone who has had an experience of awakening had nothing more mystical than a brain dysfunction? (We're never going to get a definitive answer to this one!)

If the right brain is the sole seat of "nirvana," how come all left hemisphere strokes don't produce euphoria and sustained insight into our true nature?

If we are defined by our brains, as Dr. Bolte Taylor suggests, then, assuming we all have brains, how can we ever know the truth of our being?

Are we in fact practicing self-induced brain dysfunction when we strive to understand "nothing?" Those who are skeptical about or condemning of practices that involve suspending or questioning the "I-Know" mind seem to think so. I'm not convinced of this either.

As someone who has never been particularly a left-brain adept (my scores on the logic and math sections of standardized tests have always been so low, I think I received credit only for writing my name), I experience that as long as we collectively agree that we live in a world, it's useful to have some left hemisphere skills. Unless you have people taking care of your every worldly need, you may want to know how to balance a checkbook, be able to use language, see a reason to dial 9-1-1 if you are in or if you witness a car accident. It might be a good idea to heed the left brain and step outside if your house is on fire, if only to save your family the trouble of identifying your charred remains.

It's also wonderful to have the right brain around to let me know that all is not as it seems. It's whimsical, creative, unworried, connnected, loving, unsuspicious, accepting, and it knows how to check in with the left side if it needs some assistance with the business of life.

It appears we need self-awareness in order to develop "Self-awareness." Brain death is not the same thing as awakened awareness. Liberation from stressful thoughts doesn't mean that you're going to stand by and watch a murder, stop eating because you don't believe you "need" to eat, or wear your shoes on your hands because you're so equality-conscious, you can't see a difference.

Balance is good. Through inquiry, I strive to understand and therefore enjoy the best of both worlds...or, perhaps more accurately, the best of both hemispheres.


©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

Excerpt from Thunderthighs: The Musical

At my pre-birthday party last December, I gave friends and family a taste of my 10-minute performance piece. We could say that the whole performance was a worksheet on "I hate my thighs because...." Thanks to my friend Larry Schwartz for making this available.





©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

Cracking the Addiction Code

It has taken me seven years' attendance at Byron Katie's New Year's Mental Cleanse to get this...

For the uninitiated, the Cleanse consists of several days of inquiry, plus an optional juice fast, which I always opt for. And, every year, without fail, I have experienced some sort of existential crisis and resolution. Even with complete nourishment, there is something about the lack of solid food plus The Work that turns my perspective on my life into an absurdist drama...and then something breaks through, perhaps a glimmer of awareness that I am not this body, nor am I the labels that adhere to its surface, like travel stickers on an old trunk.

It's no secret that I like to eat; no secret to myself that I often turn to food for emotional reasons: boredom, greed, depression, wishing to fit in, or simply to give myself something to do.

After spending a couple of days feeling completely fraudulent and questioning my existence, my motives, and my relationships, I wrote a Judge-Your-Neighbor worksheet about people not seeing me (whether you see me as wonderful or terrible, you lose; it's not me), accusing them of wanting me to be "something" so they could have a reference point and some self-validation. It was all pretty cosmic, and the thoughts were getting in my way. A friend kindly facilitated me through the entire piece, and I emerged with the understanding that of course no one sees anyone; everything we see is projected. How do I see myself? This is a projection also; I have mistaken the stickers on the suitcase for the suitcase. When I say I am these labels, I have not unpacked the contents to discover the blessed emptiness.

I have come to see that addiction, for me, whether it's reaching for a substance or reaching for attention, is a distraction. It's not merely escapism; it's actually a way to cement the story of the self. It can feel un-grounded not to chew and swallow; the addiction, it appears, is not to the substance, but to being and doing. Why am I working so hard to hold onto this Carol-story that I don't even like?

Without our addiction to the story, we are left with nothing.

The good news is, there is an empty suitcase, roomy enough to hold everything.

This is not to say that I will never eat chocolate or drink coffee again; or that it would be wrong to do it. But when I make these things part of a routine and feel upset without them, what is it that I'm really feeling upset about?

Source has no need to escape itself, to compulsively check email, seek out new lovers, drink or drug to excess, numb out on TV. That would be the "I," the sticker. What's underneath? Do we dare to peel the labels and see? What if there's nothing, emptiness, no meaning? So what?

Let's continue the inquiry and the discussion. I am not an addictions expert, but I feel I've cracked the code for myself. It's a beginning, I realize...and I look forward to experiencing whatever happens next.

I am also interested to support others who wish to find out where their addictions come from; not so much to stop the madness as to understand and make friends with it.

Happy new year/new you.


©2007 Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

Carol's Apartment Roasting on an Open Fire (not really!)

Well, last Friday night, I found out the hard way that my fireplace works.

After several hours of donating to charities online, I noticed I was chilly and that it would be lovely to have a warm fire in the fireplace. It was my first time using it, after I'd ascertained from my landlady that it was indeed wood-burning even though it has a (disabled) gas starter. So...

I built a beautiful pyramid of logs, newspaper, and fire-starter chips...

Opened the flue (or so I thought...turns out it had been opened ever since I moved into the place)...

Lit the wood...

And smoke proceeded to pour out of the fireplace and up to the ceiling. (First belief: I should have known better!)

Then I went about doing several things wrong and a couple of things right:

1. Opened all the windows and doors (you're supposed to contain fire and smoke; now I know.)

2. Called the fire department.

3. Grabbed my handbag and got out.

4. Asked the firefighters sitting in the truck on one end of the condo complex (we have two entrances) why the hell no one was in my apartment yet. (They said someone was already there, and of course they weren't or I wouldn't have been out there.)

5. Went back to my front door and waited for the firefighters who soon entered from the other side of the complex...and urged them to hurry, which they weren't doing. (Second belief: firefighters should move quickly.)

6. Wondered why four or five firefighters were standing around studying the damn thing instead of putting it out immediately with the fire extinguisher they'd brought—and said so—therefore not trusting that firefighters know how to deal with fires. (Third belief: they're not helping.)

7. Watched helplessly as the wall above the fireplace started to turn black. (Fourth belief: my landlady will kill me.)

9. Had thoughts of the whole building burning down because of me. (Luckily it was clear that I couldn't know this was true.)

10. Thanks firefighters profusely for closing all doors and windows, discovering closed flue, opening it, checking on neighbors' apartments, remaining calm and professional, and telling me that everything was working well—the smoke alarms did what they were supposed to do, the sheetrock (which is apparently flame-resistent) did its job, the fireplace was working great, and that there was no reason to put out the fire in it because it was burning nicely and no further harm would be done.

11. Vowed never to light fire alone again, even though gracious firefighters said there was no reason I coudn't or shouldn't. (They're right, and I have some work to do on this.)

12. Tried to clean scorched wall and ceiling with mop. If this happens to you, don't do this; I spread the sooty stuff around further and made a mess. Sand the black stuff off first, then clean what's left. (Oh well.)

13. Re-opened all windows and doors (again, not a good idea; I got a smokey office for my trouble).

14. Cleaned up all smoke residue elsewhere, which was, amazingly, minimal.

15. Counted my blessings a thousand times over.

16. Primed burnt wall the next afternoon, all by myself, and, seeing as I usually see myself as so inept, am feeling extremely proud of this and happy to have blown that story.

17. Went about my life without further drama.

What is interesting to me is that while all this was happening, the worst of it was a bunch of scary thoughts, and I knew it, even when I was getting in the firefighters' business. It's just so ingrained to say and do certain things...and I watched myself do it, and at the same time, I could see everything was being handled and that I was fine. I even saw how, if the apartment had sustained real damage, and uninsured, underemployed moi would be responsible for it all, that would have been fine too; in reality, I have never emerged from anything unscathed, and I've had some interesting experiences, especially in the last decade.

I'm about to turn 50. In my 40th year, I lost my mother, and shortly afterwards, when my immune system crashed, I lost my health; in the years that ensued, I lost my business, my home, and a relationship that I thought was "the one." While I still lived there, just a couple of miles down the road from Ground Zero, my hometown lost nearly 3,000 people and the Twin Towers in the terror attack of 9-11, and we lost our innocence as a nation...at least I hope so.

A scant decade ago, this little smoke incident would have derailed me; one more thing to prove that my life sucked.

Ah, 2007. I experienced an earthquake and a fire, and there's no harm done; I am blessed. Would I be any less blessed if these had resulted in major loss? I can't know. I know now that nothing terrible has ever happened to me.

I have gained so very much too; the independence I sorely wanted...a new home state, which I adore...much of my health...The Work. My old best pal from high school came back into my life, and I can't count how many new friends I've made. I went back to doing improv and acting after many years. I have written prolifically, and been published some. I've got a new career which is the best of the best. And there's more, too much more for this small space.

Happiness is at hand.

And how was your year?

Merry happies to all, and to all, an open flue.


©2007 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

From the "Wish I'd Written That" Archive: How to Drive Yourself Crazy

Anyone know the author of this?
Anyone know why we don't all live the opposite of this, all the time? :)


How to Drive Yourself Crazy

These thoughts provide an entertaining twist on the stress management and positive thinking literature encountered so often these days. Looking at suggestions from an opposite angle often gives them new meaning!

* Save your major worries until mid-night, then start in with some heavy thinking. Suggested topics include old age; losing your job; the mistake you made at work last week that they haven't discovered yet; and that serious wart you've had for five years. You can work up to a good panic by 1:00 a.m.

* Keep an inventory of your faults. Ignore all your strengths; focus only on your bad points. Try to select friends who will remind you of them. If you don't have such friends, you probably have some relatives who can point out your weaknesses.

* Set unreasonable goals. No matter how much money you're earning, remember that there are always others doing better. Try to name three of them, preferably younger (and better looking) than you are. Think how others could do a better job than you.

* When your kids screw up, don't accept it as normal. Regard it as the first sign of impending moral decay, delinquency and a wasted life. Imagine them as shiftless bums at age 30, scrounging off of you.

* Put off everything until the last minute. In this way you can create a sense of frenzy and chronic stress, no matter how much time you had in the first place.

* To create enhanced stress, try to sleep as little as possible. Eat junk food, drink a lot of coffee and never, ever exercise.

* Don't let others know how you feel or what you want. You shouldn't have to tell them. They should be able to read your mind. If you can do this, you stand a good chance of feeling really deprived.

* Don't trust anyone. Struggle with problems. If you feel the urge to confide in someone who seems to care, remind yourself that people are basically no good and looking out only for themselves.

* Never take a vacation or rest. It's a luxury you can't afford, especially if you are working up to a fine state of exhaustion.

* Above all, never seek help. No matter how serious the problem, convince yourself that asking for help is a sign of weakness, and that you can always tough it out alone.

* If you follow this program, you have a good chance of feeling really rotten in no time at all. Good luck!


©2007 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.