Cultivating Gratitude Through Understanding Stressful Beliefs

Earlier today, an unpleasant memory came up for me around the Thanksgiving holiday. Years ago, I had taken my mother out to dinner at an upscale restaurant. She was elderly, disabled, very overweight, and, seeing as she was widowed and living on Social Security, not particularly well dressed. I remember the looks the fancy suburban clientele gave her, and their stage-whispered remarks among themselves, and the deep anger and resentment I felt towards them; what gave those people the right to look down on someone less fortunate?

As this memory came to mind today, I also remembered and even viscerally felt the reaction I'd experienced at the time. It was upsetting me, so I decided to take a closer look. I asked myself, "What would I have to be believing if I were to be as nasty and snobbish as I perceived these people to be?" And what I came up with was this: the only reason anyone would resent the presence of someone like my mother is fear. How terrified those women must have been to encounter, in their glitzy sanctuary, the kind of person they would never want to become. What a scary reminder that circumstances can change and they might have seen their future and frightened themselves with it.

For the first time in close to 15 years, I felt compassion for them. And gratitude for my own hard-won clarity. Yes, it was hard-won. The work of self-inquiry is simple, but it is not easy. However, living with the burden of resentment has always been worse, so I invite you to this practice in order that you may experience the joy and peace of the season.



©2011 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Whose Identity Is This, Anyway?

The day after Santa Cruz Pride Weekend, I stopped to look at the colorful posters in the window of the Diversity Center, our local GBLT support organization, to see if there were any fun concerts or activities I might like to attend. I noticed a moment's hesitation when a woman came out of the center and gave me a cheerful hello. This really disturbed me. A part of me still felt I shouldn't be there.

There was a time in my life when I would have felt too uncomfortable to smile and say hi back to her, when the hesitation would not have been momentary but total. At that time I would never have stopped to read the posters in the window in case anyone I knew (or anyone I didn't know) might think I had a vested interest in gayness. Even though I lived in Greenwich Village for many years—the former heart of gay life in the city—and even though I had gay, bi and lesbian friends and attended Pride Weekend activities with them, I always made sure to wear my "Straight But Not Narrow" button, just in case anyone had any ideas. Since none of my straight friends ever went to watch the parade—they tended to avoid downtown altogether—I thought I was extremely open-minded; I had no idea how homophobic I was. Years later, when I became friendly with a trans-man, I had yet another entire set of misconceptions and fears to question and work through.

Now that I (mostly) know that others' sexuality and gender identification are none of my business, I continued to stand in front of the Diversity Center, read the posters, smile and say hi to the woman who came out of the center, and I thought, perhaps "my" gender and sexuality are none of my business either. They are not "mine."

No one can help loving someone else in the way that we do. (And why would we want to help it? It doesn't need our help!) No one does anything to come into this world with the genes and organs we have. How can I take credit for this? How can I even label myself one thing or another?

I understand the thinking behind Gay Pride; pride being the opposite of shame, it makes perfect sense to celebrate what society has long deemed shameful, and always with disastrous results. Of course, straight people can be ashamed of their sexuality as well. As a pre-teen, I was simply horrified by mine; my desire for boys seemed huge and overwhelming, totally wrong for someone my age to be carrying around. Then there was that O.A. meeting I attended once at the Gay and Lesbian center in Manhattan, where I felt I would be hanged at sundown if anyone knew a "breeder" had infiltrated their safe haven. It seems so funny now. Why didn't I celebrate those wonderful people—and myself—for gathering in support and fellowship?

It occurs to me that if I'm ashamed of my sexuality, just as if I am ashamed of my body, I'm confused. And also if I'm proud of it, I'm confused. Once again, I'm identifying with something that doesn't belong to me and, like everything else, is subject to change without notice.


©2010 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Why We Believe: A New Series of Articles for Deepening Inquiry

Those of you who receive my newsletter may have noticed my Clear Life Solutions tag line, "Open your mind to a limitless life." That is an invitation to something I, as a work-in-progress, invite myself to as I invite you to it...and it is easier said than done!

As a practice for self-awareness , you won't find anything much simpler than the four basic questions and turnarounds of The Work of Byron Katie. But to say that something is simple is not to say it is easy.

It's definitely easy to ask oneself, or another, four questions. It's easy to answer questions. It's not always easy to open the mind as far as it can go, even when there is willingness. It's tempting to do The Work on the surface, to give obvious or easy answers, or to say, "Well, I've been over all this before and don't need to go there again." These are ways that I myself have let myself get away with crumbs and prevented myself from doing the real work of The Work.

Stressful beliefs can have incredible depth, which can, in turn, prevent us from fearlessly exploring and releasing ourselves from painful or limiting concepts that no longer serve us.

In a new series of articles on the Soul Surgery blog, I will explore the nature of belief—specifically why we tend to believe troublesome thoughts, even when we know they are troublesome. In doing so, I hope to make it easier for those of us doing The Work—whether as clients or facilitators—to untangle and loosen the tentacles of attachment to these thoughts.

As always, I invite your feedback, and your experience of deepening inquiry in your life.

You may also enjoy this post from a few years back, "What's the Payoff?"


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Love, Approval and Appreciation

What won't we do for Validation?

Why Self Improvement Sucks

My friend Lisa Holliday Lee recently wrote on her Facebook status bar, "I have stopped improving myself. I invite you to join me."

Now that's a bandwagon upon which I won't hesitate to jump.

I'm all for self-help (as long as it doesn't become what my friend Sharla Jacobs calls "shelf help"--a library full of self-help books unread or un-acted upon). Self-help gets a bad rap, bringing to mind those guys on the late-night infomercials who want to sell you an expensive set of revolutionary DVDs that will make you a wealthy, healthy babe-magnet (and they'll include a set of steak knives made by descendants of Samurai sword-makers if you act now). Self-help is simply a self-directed way to remedy something that isn't working in one's life, whether it's a behavior or a mindset. We could call The Work of Byron Katie a form of self-help. Alcoholics Anonymous is another.

The concept of self improvement over self-help rankles with good reason: it puts forth that something's broken that needs fixing. "Face it," says the concept of self improvement, "you're no darn good!" This feeds upon latent anxieties we may have about ourselves and has us be "doers" rather than "un-doers." Instead of cultivating awareness of what is, "We look before and after, and pine for what is not." (From Shelley's To a Skylark.)

A self-help approach to belief in lack would take us within to discover where that comes from and to question whether or not it is true. A self-improvement approach to a belief in lack would be to assume it's true that you're missing something and to strategize about getting more of whatever it is you think is lacking. Then, if you don't get whatever it is that's supposed to fill in the lack, you're a loser. If you do get whatever it is and you aren't happy, it means you must be doing something wrong, so there's more need for improvement.

What if there really is a genuine lack or need for improvement? I like to think that noticing that something feels uncomfortable is simply being in integrity. Out of that realization, there is a shift and action may occur; when it does, it's not so much of a "doing"; it comes naturally. You want to feel better, so you start eating vegetables and taking long walks, as opposed to brutalizing yourself to lose weight and exercise now, or else.

Self improvement, on the other hand, would indicate that there's something I ought to be doing that could make me better. Therefore my efforts to change are fraught with--well, efforting, for one thing. And perhaps depression and self-hatred. That sucks!

This is not to say we become sappy affirmation-spouters like Al Franken's adorable character Stuart Smalley. At heart, I think what we all really seek is balance and alignment with what we know to be good and right for us, as opposed to self improvement. Anything that falls short of that inner knowing feels off...including the thought, "I need to improve myself."

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

The Acid Test

"You asked me if I thought your visions were true,

I would say that they were if they make you become

More human,


More kind to every creature and plant

That you know."

—From the poem "Becoming Human" by Hafiz
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Ask a Facilitator: Can The Work Help with Agoraphobia and Panic Attacks?

Q: How do people with panic attacks and agoraphobia work with the four questions? In your experience facilitating people, does The Work help cut through them? Or have you heard of something more useful or to be used in conjunction? I have experienced EFT, CBT, Sedona Method, etc.

A: Byron Katie was agoraphobic before she began to question her beliefs. I was too, to a much lesser degree, but my "thing" was panic attacks. I had them on and off for years. They were provoked by nightmares, and also by loud noises. (Or, as it happens, my thoughts about nightmares and loud noises.)

My most direct experience with this is with myself: I had my last one in the middle of the night during the School for The Work in October of 2002; it lasted about two seconds before the inquiry took over. There was a loud noise in my hotel room, which turned out to be the air conditioning kicking in. I was fairly fresh from the experience of months of planes circling my post-9/11 New York City neighborhood, and the noise sounded like one of the planes to me. The sound woke me up; I made the association to planes, and then to terror attacks, and suddenly my heart was racing and I couldn't breathe. Almost instantly, the inquiry became alive in me; I realized I was believing my thoughts ("It's happening again." "I'm in danger.")—thoughts I had previously questioned many times. The symptoms stopped immediately.

I'm sure CBT, EFT, and other cognitive techniques help people with panic disorders, as does medication for many people; a therapist could better answer that question. I can tell you this: working with the fearful thoughts that lead to the symptoms of panic attack and being unable to leave the house can't hurt, and might enhance the effectiveness of whatever course of treatment is indicated.

The time to do The Work is when you are not panicking; otherwise it's not a search for truth, but an attempt to feel better, and therefore not as effective. You could start with core beliefs like, "The world isn't safe," "I will die," and "I need to protect myself." Use the One-Belief-at-a-Time worksheet, available at TheWork.com. It's a self-directed self-facilitation tool which is done as a written meditation.


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

New Career Means New LIfe? Argh!

Today I came upon the marketing website of a Facebook friend. His copy begins with, “There must be more to life than this!” Indeed there is; so that's a good come-on. This former direct response copywriter likes it!

I read further: there is a compelling list of common work and career-related complaints, including fear of career change, office politics, bureaucratic red tape, feeling trapped and suffocated, fatigue and depression, lack of motivation, feeling devalued and out of control, stuck in a rut, no growth prospects, lack of interest in the work itself.

So far, so good.

Then comes this invitation:

"Create the life you really want!" "Envision what it would be like!" "Live out your dreams!" "Take control of your life and increase your happiness!"

How do you do this?

1. Change your dead-end career that is the source of your unhappiness!
2. Take every course and read every book about how life can be better!
3. Do everything this guy tells you to do in his eCourse, filled with "amazing, secret, life-changing strategies and techniques" for the low, low price of...not the $397 it's purportedly worth...not the $297 that ought to be the rock-bottom price for this holy grail...but a mere $197 with a full money-back guarantee!

But for you, if you're among the first 100 customers, his course costs just $97. Plus five "bonuses worth up to $777."

Sounds great, right?

My response: Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!

Marketing hype notwithstanding (and, trust me, it gets even worse), I'm not saying his product isn't wonderful; I haven't seen it. It could be just terrific, and worth every penny of that 97 bucks, even and especially without those bonuses (at least one of which is in the public domain anyway).

However, my first indication that something is amiss here lies in the promise that the job itself is your problem, and if you change your career, you will change your life. It might be true that if I switch my career from, say, middle manager to fire-fighter (or to a self-published author of success-oriented eCourses), my life will be different. Will it be happier? That depends on a lot more than a physical career change. (If you have any interest in and experience with inquiry at all, you already know this.)

The second indication that this offer may not be kosher is the 2006 copyright on the web page. So, two years later, he hasn't yet sold his first 100 copies of this groundbreaking eCourse, plus bonuses, for the low, low price of $97? Hmm. Either he's a very poor marketer, or he's a liar.

Or, perhaps he meant this price was good for the first 100 customers on this particular day, though his copy doesn't say that.

Third red flag: although this man says he discovered that one must be devoted to lifelong learning—take every course, read every book—he later says this eCourse is the ticket to Nirvana. So now I"m confused.

Fourth red flag: valuable "bonuses" which are yours to keep, even if you think the course is a crock and you want your money back. (Note that these bonuses are not "worth" $777, just worth up to that amount, by someone's calculations who would, perhaps, not be you or me.)

Okay, I didn't mean this to be a mini-course in how to detect a skeevy marketing ploy. (If it were, there's a lot more I could say about his sales pitch.)

My intention is this:

If you think that your outer circumstances create your happiness, you're going to be disappointed every time. Yes, they can contribute to happiness, of course. We all have basic needs, and if those are unmet, it's darn hard to be happy. If you're an unhappy middle manager, and your unhappiness stems from thoughts like, "There's no room for advancement," or "I need my colleagues to respect me," as much as you love hosing down infernos, you could be miserable as a fire-fighter too.

Everyone already knows (though, in desperate times, we tend to forget) that no book, eCourse, bonus, "secret," practice, relationship, or technique will give you ultimate control over anything, will make you a "winner" every time or will permanently change your life to allow you to "live out your dream." I promise you, it's an inside job. People are going to do what they do, jobs are what they are, and we human beings have mood swings when we believe what we think.

By all means, change your job if that's what you know to do. I did; or rather, my job was changed for me, more than once. Am I happier? In some ways, yes, and I am not immune to many of the thoughts listed at the beginning of the Facebook friend's web page.

Actually, when I read the list, I became excited. I love to question these kinds of thoughts. The insights I glean, the creativity and impetus to move towards peace in my life and work—whether I stay in my career or leave it—are bonuses to which I can't attach any monetary value.

And now for the sales pitch: Transformational Inquiry: Working on Your Work. No bonuses, no discounts, no promises; just some good stuff that has helped me, and that it delights me to pass along to you. Caveat emptor: if you purchase it, it will help me to pay the bills, which, since this helps me to meet some basic needs, does seem to contribute to my happiness.


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

Oprah's New Earth?

How cool is this? Byron Katie's buddy, spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle, is the new Oprah's Book Club author. There are free webcast classes on the book too. America awakens? It will be interesting to see.

You may know that Tolle's first book, The Power of Now, became a bestseller when Oprah said something about it on her show. Now, many more will be drawn to the simple teachings of A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose. I love this crystalline commentary on the mechanisms of the mind; it dovetails beautifully with The Work and is a fine companion volume to Loving What Is.

You can purchase A New Earth here.

Sign up for the book club webcast classes at oprah.com.

Back to the School

I wrote this article some years ago, and for several years it was available at TheWork.com. It stands the test of tme with a few tweaks, so I'm rerunning it here to convey the School for The Work experience without giving away the store.

The Work, and the life-changing experience of the School (which I attended twice as a participant; I'm a tough case), are why I am who I am and do what I do today.

**********

Extreme Internal Makeover: Nine Days to a Kinder Mind
by Carol L. Skolnick

"Is it true that you're too fat?' the silver-haired woman pointedly asks a thirtyish man who is quite large by the world's standards; it is difficult for him to walk upstairs or even to breathe, and he has never had a relationship with a woman. He has just revealed his despair and self-disgust to a gathering of about 300 strangers.

'Sweetheart,' the woman continues, 'Can you absolutely know that it's true? How do you treat yourself when you believe this lie, this mythology?' The man enumerates the sad details of a life of self-hatred. The woman, Byron Katie, understands—she's been there—but more importantly, the man gets it...that he's been beating himself based on erroneous beliefs about what constitutes self-worth. He comes to see, after answering a few more of Katie's questions, that the point is not to neglect one's body and health, but to be happy in the meantime. What hurts less, Katie asks: to be at war with reality or a lover of 'what is?' One way brings peace, the other stress. We can be overweight (or out of love with our spouse, or living with cancer) and be in hell, or we can question our thoughts and be in heaven...and it doesn't mean we won't diet (or get divorced, or get chemo). It's almost too simple.

"If I think I'm not beautiful," Katie tells the audience, "I'm confused. If I see someone's less than perfect, I'm insane."

Byron Katie specializes in extreme makeovers of the internal kind; she comes equipped with a surgical team of four self-inquiry questions designed with the purpose of helping people deconstruct their painful stories.

"Confusion is the only suffering," Katie tells rapt audiences all over the world, and she ought to know. She was one confused, suffering lady. "But," she says, "only for 43 years."

You'd never guess that this charmng, sixty-something Eileen Fisher-sporting grandmother—whose popularity in part lies in her unique ability to make a public program attended by hundreds feel as intimate as a coffee date—was once an obese, suicidal, pill-popping depressive who slept with a loaded gun under her pillow, unable to care for her family, afraid to venture outside. Prior to that she had been one of those suburban American Dream types: a gorgeous blonde with an adoring husband, three healthy kids, the finest home on her Barstow, California block...and a Midas touch with real estate.

But for Byron Kathleen Reid (everyone calls her Katie)—who began, perhaps, as a garden variety middle-class neurotic but became seriously unhinged over a period of ten years—nothing was ever enough, and no one understood her, least of all Katie herself.

"Love thy neighbor as thyself," she often jokes. "I always had. I hated me, I hated you."

One day in 1986, at the age of 43, Katie rose from the ashes like a suburban phoenix, as she lay on the floor (because she felt unworthy to sleep in the bed provided to her) of a Los Angeles-area halfway house for women with eating disorders. Only weeks earlier she had been diagnosed by professionals as mentally fragmented, a hopeless case. Suddenly, Katie realized she'd had it all backwards...that a thought creates a feeling, and a feeling based on believing a thought to be true creates a life...that when she attached to a self-defeating thought or a judgment about another, she suffered, and when she questioned the validity of the belief, she experienced a deep and abiding joy. Katie calls that life-changing instant her "moment of clarity," and she has been on the road cluing in others ever since.

Katie can't tell you exactly what happened to create such a sea-change, but she has devised a written technique, called The Work, so that anyone can experience, and maintain, the radical shifts in perception that she had. The method—consisting of four targeted self-inquiry questions, related subquestions, and a thought-reversal technique called a turnaround—is deceptively simple, surprisingly deep, free for the asking (see www.thework.com), explained in greater detail in Katie's book, LOVING WHAT IS: Four Questions That Can Change Your Life (Harmony Books, 2002), and expounded upon further in I NEED YOUR LOVE—IS THAT TRUE? How to Stop Seeking Love, Approval, and Appreciation and Start Finding Them Instead (Harmony Books, 2005), and in A THOUSAND NAMES FOR JOY: Living in Harmony with The Way Things Are (Harmony books, 2007).

The Work bears some resemblance to cognitive therapies, to Socratic dialog, even to Zen Buddhism, although Katie had no knowledge of psychology, philosophy or spirituality prior to her metanoia. Her Work is based only on her direct experience of how suffering is created in the mind, and how we can end it—not by dropping thoughts, but by investigating them.

For those hearty souls ready for gut renovation, Katie offers weekend intensives and a nine-day School for The Work, a total immersion program with a demanding, interactive curriculum designed to directly impart her own experience of "waking up to reality." The School is attended in large numbers by all manner of truth-seekers as well as business people, educators, therapists, coaches, and anyone interested in meeting the mind (and the people and situations of their lives) with clear understanding.

Why should anyone go into lockdown for more than a week with some lady from the Mojave desert, just to explore why it hurts to believe that your partner should get a job, your mother didn't love you or that the government is corrupt? Graduates' claims of addictions falling away, relationships saved, and increased efficiency in their work lives are interesting...and the testimonies of trauma victims coming to terms with everything from incest to terrorism have drawn more than 100,000 people seeking their own relief to Katie's program worldwide.

Glenn Koshar, who used to counsel inmates at a Northhampton, Massachusetts state prison, initially wanted to bring the process into his profession...and discovered an even greater benefit of attending The School for The Work for his personal life:

"In my passion to be right, I often missed the bigger picture, the whole truth, even in situations I had gone over a thousand times before," says Koshar, a married father of two. "I was able to resolve issues with my father that had plagued me for more than a decade. I found forgiveness for his choices and forgiveness for my own blind rage and self-righteousness.

"I still have plenty to inquire about," Koshar readily admits, "but I have also found a deeper peace. While therapy, talking to friends and family was sometimes helpful, I never got the resolution I needed to let go and move on. The School allowed me to find forgiveness and gratitude, where previously there was only bitterness and self-pity."

Basking in Byron Katie's loving attention, and absorbing a week's worth of her considerable wit and wisdom, are bonus attractions of the School for The Work. Katie facilitates all sessions herself, assisted by a small core staff and a larger cadre of volunteer graduates. Being around someone with her degree of clarity can be very inspiring; Time magazine, in a profile of Katie, gushingly called her "a visionary for the new millennium." As for Katie, she makes no such claims, "I don't know anything about that," she says. "I only know the difference between what hurts and what doesn't."

"Reality is always kinder than the story we tell about it," says Katie. So perhaps the single most compelling reason to attend the School for The Work is the opportunity to learn how to fall in love with everyday life as it shows up. Once examined under the microscope of inquiry, annoyances major and minor cease to be a problem, people need not change to make us happy, obstacles become opportunities for self-realization ("Stress is a compassionate alarm clock, letting us know we're in the nightmare," Katie says) and a trip to the grocery store can be as exciting as a world tour.

As Paula Brittain from Colorado—a School for The Work graduate who now works with Katie's organization—puts it, "The School sends people out into the world, the real school, with tools to just watch life get better and better."

_____

For more information about the School for The Work, visit TheWork.com.



©2008 by 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.

Focus on Facilitation: The Subtle Seasoning of Sub-questions

At the School for The Work, facilitators-in-training are not introduced to sub-questions (questions that deepen the experience of answering the basic four questions) until about midway through the nine days. Especially as new facilitators, we're encouraged to trust in the "basic four," and to use sub-questions when the client needs a little help in reaching within themselves.

Sub-questions are also extremely useful when self-facilitating our own beliefs in writing. You can see these on the One-Belief-at-a-Time worksheet, available for download here.

The following sub-questions are additions to and variations of the ones that Katie and others have provided over the years. Experienced facilitators may find them useful, particularly with "difficult" clients. I also like to ask them of myself; try them first with your own written work, and see how they feel to you.

I love the elegant simplicity of the four questions. Do not use these, or any sub-questions, if they seem to complicate the process for you or your client. The idea is not "whoever uses the most sub-questions wins." Eventually, as a facilitator, you will have an instinct about when to use sub-questions, and which ones to use. I encourage you not to over-salt the Work soup: add sparingly, to taste, only when appropriate. Listen deeply to your clients and notice when you want to manipulate their answers...or impress them with your vast knowledge of Work tricks (speaking from experience).

Questions One and Two:
*(Thanks to Celeste Gabriele for this one) "Before we begin, I invite you to answer these questions as if you've never done The Work before." (Not a sub-question, but a great way to prepare one's mind and hold the space for an honest and clean investigation.)


Question Three:
*What assumptions are you making when you believe this thought?
*What are you avoiding when you believe this thought? ("What are you avoiding?" is a question my former therapist used to ask me, cheekily, when I was being entertaining during our sessions...bless his heart!)
*How has it served you to believe this thought? And how is that working for you now? (Thanks for the inspiration, Dr. Phil!)

Question Four:
*For self-judgments: If you were meeting yourself for the first time, how would you see yourself without this belief? Look at yourself without a story, as if looking at someone about whom you have no prior knowledge or history.
*If this person where not who you say s/he is, how would you respond to her/him now? (In other words, there is no prior "evidence" with these person, there are no labels or diagnoses; there's just a human being in front of you.)
*Who were you prior to this thought? Go back to a time before the belief ever occurred to you.
*Without the thought, do you feel more peaceful? If not, can you identify what still feels stressful?

Turnaround
For the turnaround to the opposite (paraphrasing Katie): If this terrible person or thing, appearing in your life as it is, puts you on your perfect path to self-realization, would you still want it to be different? (This may also be used along with Question Two if the answer to Question One is "yes.")

If you have any "signature sub-question seasonings" in the spirit of The Work (in other words, without mixing modalities), feel free to share them in the "Manifestations of Mind" comments.


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

Oh, No, Your Majesty!

Another one of my icons has passed away. Deborah Kerr starred in of some of my favorite movies, including Tea and Sympathy ("Years from now, when you talk about this—and you will—be kind."), An Affair to Remember, From Here to Eternity (oh, that kiss on the beach!), the 1967 Casino Royale, and my very favorite musical, The King and I, of which I am reminded at every School for The Work, because (as Katie sometimes likes to sing to us), it's all about "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you."

As Anna Leonowens, Deborah Kerr portrayed the very best kind of teacher in that film: dedicated, engaging, elegant, smart, a bit edgy...and really sexy without giving away the store. I wanted to be "Mrs. Anna" (and Miss Jean Brodie) when I grew up. (I think in some small way, I have achieved this, although I could never have kept up that plunging neckline, nor that polka with Yul Brynner.)


©2007 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Repairing the Irreparable

My late mother always said that I should have moved heaven and earth to save my relationship with my longtime best friend. I thought that was incredibly insensitive and unsupportive of her, given all that I'd been through. No one who knew and loved me would ever say such a thing, I believed.

Of course, it turns out she was right. (Don't you hate it when your parents are right about you?)

Annie Newman, nee Ann Rachel Berrol, now tells me her father told her the same thing...and that she took his advice in much the same way. Until recently.

What had happened between Annie and me was, in my mind, the most shameful, unforgivable, irreparable thing ever, and everyone we knew, knew it. If ever I stopped believing this, either by blaming myself or getting spiritual, someone (usually a mutual high school friend, or a member of my well-meaning if overprotective therapy group) would set me straight, and I'd fear and resent Annie all over again.

I'll spare you—well, really, I'm sparing myself—the details, but suffice it to say that I had PTSD for years. The end of our friendship was like a nasty, contentious, litigious divorce; I tore up pictures of Annie, badmouthed her to everyone who knew us as well as to those who didn't, felt nauseated at the thought of our final encounter, frightened by the sight of her (and she by me; we glimpsed each other from a distance once during a High Holy Days service. I pretended I hadn't seen her, and Annie never came back with her brother to that synagogue), then all but forgot about her for years, I think because it was too hard for me to continue hating her (I've been known to be very angry and resentful, but it's an unnatural act for me to actually hate anyone), so I put her out of my mind entirely until someone mentioned her. ("You're not still speaking to Ann, are you?" "God, no. You know what happened between us. Why would I ever have anything to do with her again?")

Annie tells me she never forgot about me. I find that incredible, but she has provided proof, one and a half decades of it. Pictures of me and stories I'd published, found with Google searches. Memories of our friendship that I'd tried to forget. She's a lot braver than I am, not to have dismissed me altogether as I tried so hard to dismiss her.

Truth be told, I never forgot her either. Though I ripped up many photographs and damned her to hell in my mind for years, I secretly kept all the lovely things she ever wrote about or for me—poems, song parodies, fantasy plays about our lives in high school, some letters. I didn't look at them, but I didn't throw them out.

Annie—then called Ann—was one of my three best friends in high school. We remained close through our early 30s, seeing each other through all the major lifequakes: first hirings and firings, first lovers and lost loves, college, studies abroad, my graduate degree, her marriage, my father's death, the birth of her only daughter, our respective and seemingly endless therapies, my years as a pseudo-yogini on an exotic spiritual journey, the gradual decay of her marriage, our mutual and largely unsuccessful efforts to lose weight, get in shape, and stave off deep depression, our various betrayals of each other, and our grateful, tearful reunions.

I can't convey to you how deep was this loss of my friend. No one ever "got" me the way she did. I never had to explain myself to Ann; she knew. In the early days of our friendship, we were so relieved to find a fellow alien, and quickly we retreated to our own planet, a veritable Berrol-and-Skolnickland of humorous obtuseness. We had this way of talking in code, in bursts of song from Broadway musicals, or quoting things that we—and only we—found hilarious. We signed out letters to each other, "YBFITWWW." (Your Best Friend in the Whole Wide World. Sappy but true.)

No one who knows our history would believe this was possible, but after about 15 years, we are friends again. This, Meesees Onna, I believe to be entirely your fault. (That's one of those "hilarious only to Carol and Annie" jokes, paraphrased from The King and I. My pal is probably spewing her Starbucks upon reading this, and you, most likely, are not.)

How did it happen? Well, Annie's not the only one who Googles me. I look myself up every now and again to see who is quoting from, "borrowing," or critiquing my articles, and to check on my website rankings.

A few months ago, I saw a Google entry that said, "For Carol L. Skolnick, Wherever You Are." Source: annienewman.typepad.com.

Deep breath. Click.

There it was; Annie's blog. With a jokey but wistful King and I reference that no one would get but me. Someone posted a comment pretending to be me, saying "I don't get it," and Annie responded, "If you really were Carol, you would."

I got more than the reference.

Was this a shout-out? What did I want to do about it? I had attempted no more than one Worksheet on Annie over the years, and quickly abandoned it because it was too uncomfortable; I wasn't ready to face my part in our rift. However, worksheets are a microcosm of mind. Cross out "Annie" and insert Mother, Father, God, Boyfriend, Body, Hitler, Former Employer, Noisy Upstairs Neighbor...not much difference, same old stories. They all betrayed me, didn't love me, wished me harm, ruined my life, deserved to be punished, disturbed my peace, needed to change, cooperate, grovel and enslave themselves to me in order for me to be happy...that was my former religion and I had already converted to TrueDayOh-ThisIAmIt-y. I may continue to "act as if" sometimes, but I'm a jerk with awareness; I haven't really believed my thoughts for several years. You work with the heavy-duty, universal ones, and the others gradually collapse like a house of cards.

Did I need anything from Annie? I checked in. Nope. There was nothing I wanted or needed from her anymore. If anything, I wanted to be able to apologize for my part in what happened between us (I haven't done The Work for all these years for nothing). That left me free to say hello, and it left me okay if in fact she wanted nothing further to do with me.

In her response, unasked for, Annie gave me everything I no longer needed from her, everything I thought I wanted from her all those years ago.

And so, as if no time had passed, last week I walked off my much-delayed plane from Amsterdam into the loving embrace of someone who had waited hours—and years—for me. What a beautiful sight. Within minutes, it was as if no time had passed at all. True, we're a bit grayer, a lot rounder, quite a bit smarter and I hope a tad less self-involved than we were in our teens, twenties and thirties. But we've stll got our legs. (That's another one of those jokes, don't even try to get it.) And I look forward to our sharing sushi together when we're on the same coast (she tells me it's all my fault she's addicted to the stuff), and sharing laughter and tears on the telephone when we're not. I look forward to seeing her daughter Tracy, who in my mind is still a toddler even though she's 17. I love that she has, once again, an Aunt Carol. I very much look forward to Annie and me being able to disagree with each other, even vehemently, and this not becoming the end of the world. (In the past, we were too sensitive to deal with much disagreement; one or the other of us would shut down and isolate until it blew over, until we hit the one that never blew over.)

I am willing and I look forward to the world telling me I am completely insane. They could be right. It doesn't matter. What matters to me is that in healing this old wound, I have more of myself back, plus a bonus.

Thank you for your courage, Annie. I love you.


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

Nobody Needs Me: a Follow-up and a Photo

Here I am before School started, enjoying the scenery of beautiful Bad Neuenahr, in the north of Germany. BN is an old spa town; I look forward to visiting it again someday when I have time to hang out in the adorable little town, get massages, and eat ice cream (theirs is the best I've ever had).

Today I was privileged to be facilitated by one of my mentees in the BKI Certification program. (It feels funny to call myself a mentor; mostly I feel like a student in these relationships. It never ceases to amaze me how much there is to learn, and how great are my teachers.) I worked on—you guessed it—"I'm not needed." It has been so "up" for me that I dreamt about it last night. For the first time, I saw the arrogance in this statement; how much I am in others' business, and God's business, when I believe I am not needed. I always thought it was the opposite; to believe one is needed and necessary is the opinion of one with a rather overinflated ego, I reckoned. Interesting to see how the opposite stance is equally self-important, imbued with the idea that my "doership" makes the world go 'round, and if I'm not in perpetual motion, I may as well absent myself from the earth.

So here I am, and who am I to say that what I am doing or not doing should be different, or doesn't serve just as it is...that I am wasting my time and yours, that I am getting it wrong?

Where is my proof that I'm not needed? I don't have any. I can't know that things would run more smoothly if I were not there, if for no other reason than to provide contrast.

And so it is. Needed and not. Both true and untrue. Equally important in the grand scheme of things, it appears.

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

Nobody Needs Me!

Some of y'all were concerned because I haven't posted or sent out my newsletter for nearly a month. No worries...I was on the road, staffing The School for The Work in beautiful Bad Neuenahr, Germany...playing and sightseeing a little in Cologne and Amsterdam... catching up with friends and family in New York...and you are all spared because at the moment, I'm unable to share my 108,000 photos of canals and cathedrals with you (I somehow messed up my computer's USB ports during my travels).

I take it you have enjoyed a fine life these few weeks without me.

While at the School, I had an ongoing opportunity to work on my issues about not being needed. This is something I have experienced on and off for many years, most notably after the events of 9-11-01 when I witnessed peoples' devastation at losing family members who supported them. At the time—parentless, spouseless, childless, and jobless—I had survivor guilt. Why did people who were needed have to lose their lives? No one needed me, yet I was allowed to live. It seemed like a waste for someone like me to be on the planet. Was God a sadist, or what?

During this school, I felt underutilized as a staff member as I watched others with "more important" jobs rarely having a chance to sit down. Instead of kicking back and enjoying this opportunity to "do" my school again, I spent a good part of the ten days feeling that I ought to have been given a fuller schedule of tasks in order to better support the participants and core staff. This meant that in my mind, whatever I was doing there (and of course, it wasn't nothing) was worthless. That's such a good one! And, ironically, though I let it be known that I was more than available to do whatever I was asked, I was unavailable to myself when I wasn't asked.

I am not yet sure why I think I need to be needed and useful. Why can't it be enough that my mere presence at the school was a comfort to some? If I'm doing nothing but standing, sitting, or lying horizontal, why isn't it enough that my exhalations help plants to grow? I'll continue to work with my thoughts, and I'll let you know what I discover.

While I was gone, my basil plant, which apparently didn't miss me, nor did it need my carbon dioxide, remained alive and well on the terrace, in spite of not being watered in three weeks. It even has a sprig of flowers on top, and several dozen healthy new leaves (I had denuded it for pesto right before I left).

See...I can't even neglect a plant properly! :-)

I guess—she says while digging in her heels—that this not being needed is a good thing. I would rather come home to a thriving plant than not. I'd hate to feel that I'm responsible for everyone and everything on the planet. I remember when I did feel that way, always trying to keep employers, family, clients, lovers, readers, and everyone else, happy and approving of me. What an impossible way to live.

Oh yes...just noticing that I don't need to live this way anymore, I am breathing more freely. There is great freedom in having no responsibility, and that doesn't mean I am lazy or useless. I am free to take care of whatever is in front of me, to not worry about whatever it is that I believe is more important than this, now.

It could be that I don't need myself either. I'm sure the basil plant doesn't fret about such things as a "you" or a "me," as it sways slightly in the breeze looking quite lush and luscious, having asked for nothing, and done nothing to deserve what it has.

I suppose if I had to go halfway around the world and back to discover this, it was worth it. And, as I like to remember, and as Katie says when people have big, life-changing epiphanies, "It's a beginning."


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

Resistance Is Utile

Estragon: I can't go on like this.
Vladimir: That's what you think.

—Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

In A Thousand Names for Joy, Byron Katie says, "When you know how to question your thoughts, there's no resistance. You look forward to your worst nightmare, because it turns out to be nothing but an illusion, and the four questions of The Work provide you with the technology to go inside and realize that."

You may be thinking, "I know how to do The Work; why, then, do I still resist what is? Am I doing this wrong?"

Not at all. You are merely witnessing a function of the mind. If you're doing The Work regularly, you have no resistance to the idea of inquiry; you're just reluctant to be wrong or to not know, sometimes. Some of us who have been examining our thoughts for many years still find areas where we don't want to surrender our righteous rightness.

"Yeahbuts" serve a very important function. For example, they let us know when...

1. We're not ready to know the truth; which is perfectly okay. You can't make yourself believe what you don't believe, or disbelieve what you do believe. "Children should not oppose their parents," for example; if you've got a kid with oppositional disorder, this one's hard to reverse, even if you know that "resistance is futile." (If you've noticed, so is resisting their behavior!)

2. We're not hitting the underlying beliefs that are keeping the central belief in place. So it's time to go more deeply into the thought and see what lies beneath. "I want my husband to stop cheating on me." It feels true, absolutely...because "Marriage is sacred." Or because "it means that...I'm losing him; I'll be alone; I'm not attractive enough."

3. We're defending something that doesn't exist. That's cosmic, but that's what's happening...and it's good news. Mind knows its days are numbers and it's not going without a fight. The introduction of the book A Course In Miracles famously says, "Nothing real can be threatened; nothing unreal exists." Ultimately the ego itself doesn't exist; we can know this when we question what we believe and the story of "I" changes. (Example: "I need" becomes "I don't need." Or, "I'm too fat" becomes "I'm not too fat." So what happened to that "I?" Poof!)

Resistance is one of those "compassionate alarm clocks" that lets us know we're in the nightmare of beliefs that are not true for us. Katie says, "If you feel any resistance to a thought, your Work is not done. When you can honestly look forward to experiences that have been uncomfortable, there is no longer anything to fear in life; you see everything as a gift that can bring you self-realization."

That's why "I (Heart) My Resistance." It brings me home, every time.

Deepening Transformational Inquiry: Name That Fear

Find a tough one, a thought that you believe to be true, absolutely. As you hold it against the four questions, notice if there is a fear to lose the belief. Name it: what's the worst thing that could happen if you no longer believed this thought?

Then, investigate that belief.

Example: if I still believe my body is too fat, after using the four questions and turnarounds (and three ways), I can ask myself, "What do I fear would happen if I no longer believed this thought?" You will come up with underlying beliefs that are holding your central belief firmly in place. Write them down and question them.

Fear named: I will always be heavy.

Fear named: I will die young.

Further deepening:

"I will die young, and it means that...I will not have lived a full life, I won't be there for my children, my wife will be devastated."

Thoughts to investigate:

I haven't lived a full life.

My children need me.

My wife will be devastated without me.

For more assistance with deepening inquiry, read the sourcebook for The Work: Loving What Is: Four Questions That Can Change Your Life by Byron Katie with Stephen Mitchell.

"No story: no resistance.
The story is what we resist, not the experience."
—Byron Katie

©2007 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.