What's So Bad About Negativity?

For years I was involved in a group whose adherents felt very threatened by any view of it that seemed to contradict what it was desperately trying to be: the "perfect" spiritual path. Any opinion (and the one who voiced the opinion) that could be perceived as "negative" with regards to the group was immediately attacked and blocked. You see, on a perfect path, the leader and those in high places in the organization could never make a mistake; were always doing what they did for our highest good; had no ulterior motives; were beyond reproach. If, and only if, you were a good devotee, had full faith and did everything you were told, you'd attract the all-knowing, unconditionally loving guru's grace (which, on the perfect path, you already have unless you do something to repel it), you would become self-realized (though as a good devotee, you could never acknowledge this as it smacks of dreaded "ego") and you'd have your heaven on earth.

If you doubted any of this—if, say, you dared to notice any inconsistencies, or refused to go against personal integrity...if you had questions about the teachings...or you had a problem with underage girls being used sexually by older men in power, or with goods being smuggled in and out of other countries...or with celebrities receiving V.I.P. treatment in a place where we were all told we were equal...or with blatant environmental violations, or with the presence of weapons and bodyguards in an ashram, or with "renunciants" sporting designer clothing and precious jewels—then you were deluded, had limited understanding, had fallen off the path, etc.

Oh the horror and danger of exposure to anything but positivity! Most of us suppressed or denied anything within ourselves that could be construed as anything less than 100% cheerful and agreeable. Needless to say, a lot of the devotees were secretly in therapy and taking anti-depressants...and doing more and more spiritual practices in an attempt to override our perceived impurities.

After many years and many experiences of being chastised for being "negative," I realized something: if our organization, its leaders and its teachings were sacred and sacrosanct, what could threaten them? And yet, there was a pervasive atmosphere of self-righteousness and unkindness which, beneath the surface, was pure, unadulterated fear. It seemed that what was going on in the organization was the exact opposite of one of the main teachings: that love was stronger than fear. Where was the love when all was not handled in an open and loving fashion?

Of course, religious organizations are not the only places where the fear of negativity reigns. Ashrams, like everywhere else, are filled with human beings; and human beings who have not questioned their stressful beliefs attack whatever appears to threaten their happiness (as if true happiness could be threatened). So we try to create safe havens for ourselves where sharing is welcome as long as what is shared aligns with the basic premise of our subculture. If anyone might burst our bubbles, indicate we could be wrong, or cost us our precious stuff, we tend not to welcome them with great respect and love. Places of business, family gatherings, groups of friends or neighbors and political parties are just a few of the places where individuals might not be embraced or even acknowledged—in fact might be shunned, shamed and shut up, even if we have to kill them—if they're not seeing our world through our particular brand of rose-colored glasses.

In the best-case scenarios, we close rank, turn off the TV, stop answering the phone, defriend our Facebook buddies who don't see things exactly as we do, avoid people or situations that might result in being "tainted" by another's "negativity." We have to call those people and things toxic, wrong, bad. We double up on our affirmations, surround ourselves in imaginary white light, run away.

That might work as a temporary measure. Until the bogeyman shows up at the door again. Or you think back on the person who threatened the sacrosanct belief that turned out not to be sacrosanct after all (at least not according to you), and you feel the fear all over again in the form of condescension, resentment, anger, sadness, disgust, stress, disturbance of your peace.

If you fear the "negative," it will appear to come a-calling for you in many guises: "negative" people, situations, thoughts. A loving universe won't let you get away with avoidance. It supports you instead.

What's the worst thing that could happen if you welcomed the "negative," sat down to tea with it, questioned it?


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

What Kept Me Up Last Night

Along with much of the country, I stayed up late watching (and in my case, celebrating) the Presidential election results. I was excited about this election in a way I have not been excited by politics in decades. And yet, there was a sadness about California's Proposition 8 and other similar measures that passed around the country.

Proposition 8 is about banning gay marriage. The final count isn't in, but so far it seems that the Ayes have it.

I'm privileged to live in a very liberal town, one where homosexuality is seen as a flavor of being human. Most people here would not wish to revoke the rights of gay people any more than they would seek to revoke the rights of people with brown eyes. Several close friends of mine here (and elsewhere in the world) are in committed same-sex relationships. Just recently I attended my first gay wedding celebration, a union between two women. It was exactly like any other wedding ceremony, legally conducted according to the then-laws of the state of California, complete with a minister and a marriage license, a ceremony of love and commitment in the presence of God and loved ones, a festive meal and a wedding cake, toasts to future happiness...and much joy all around.

For religious reasons, personal discomfort with homosexuality or whatever else people believe, many want to rend asunder what my two friends have built together. They say that marriage—and the legal protections granted to married couples—can only be between a man and a woman.

So, in spite of my great joy in witnessing a historic moment of a black man from humble beginnings elected President of the United States, I woke up in the middle of the night and felt sorrow.

Today I did The Work on "Proposition 8 should not have passed." I react with severe judgment against the people who voted Yes; I imagine I know who they are, that they are bigots, fearful religious zealots, ignorant slobs who are severely lacking as human beings. I feel I have something to teach them. I want them to change their minds.

I'm upset for my friends who just married and for others who have been making wedding plans. I'm sad for gay youth who may not grow up able to have a marriage and family of their own.

I feel somehow responsible. I should have been more supportive, more pro-active.

I throw away my joy...my joy about my friends' marriage; my joy at Barack Obama's triumphant journey to the White House. I project a hopeless future where everyone in the world is not—and will never be—treated with equality.

Who would I be without this thought? Still open and not in a hurry. Available to my friends. Available to work for change. That could be as simple as asking questions, getting to know who the people who voted Yes really are. Not tarring them all with the same brush; no tar at all. And, seeing as I can be a change agent and yet not control people, I would be in my own business about how I should vote...going peacefully on my peace narch.

I would see that this has been an incredible beginning. The entire nation knows about gay marriage now; ironically, this is what parents of young children did not want taught in the schools and yet, unless one lives in a home with no television or newspapers, just about everyone on earth now knows that love, fidelity and the desire for marriage is not exclusively a heterosexual impulse. There is also increased awareness of how the civil rights, the human rights, of gay people are curtailed under our present laws; I am so grateful to have that awareness myself.

Turned around: Proposition 8 should have passed. It should have passed because it did. If the Universe is friendly, why is this a good thing? Perhaps this will light a fire under those who didn't vote on the proposition at all, who felt it wasn't important or that it wasn't about them or their families. Perhaps any backlash against this proposition—which at last count passed by only 400,000 votes—will unify more gay men and Lesbians in California and elsewhere to work harder to realize the right to marry under the law. Perhaps young people of all persuasions will be inspired now to learn more about the issue and move towards peaceful solutions in their lifetimes.

Another turnaround: I should not have passed Proposition 8. While I voted against it, I should notice where the idea of gay marriage makes me uncomfortable. At one time I saw it as silly and unnecessary (a view I have sometimes had of "straight" marriage as well). At this recent wedding between a feminine woman and her "butch" partner, I felt weird about the ceremony referring to them as the bride and groom, thinking they should identify as two brides; in effect I voted internally against them having the marriage they choose to have. Until I am able to see them as good and perfect the way they are, how can I expect anyone else to do it?


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

Are We More Afraid?

Are we, as a society, becoming increasingly fearful? Sometimes it seems that way; the media bombard us hourly with the latest red alerts on everything from recalled pet products to cell phone usage; parents appear to be increasingly reluctant to leave their children with caregivers, let them play on playground equipment, or eat the same foods we grew up on...all this in addition to the new disease or threat of war du jour.

If we're more afraid than we used to be, quite possibly there's more to be afraid of...and it's accompanied all the factual (or not) data we could ever want as backup. Maybe innocence was bliss; after all, the generation of mothers that gave birth to the baby boomers weren't aware of the dangers of smoking during pregnancy, or of lead-based paint on the crib bars we chewed on as infants...and we who are now 50-plus turned out okay, sort of. Since we didn't have labels for our childhood "disorders" such as ADHD, we were labeled rambunctious, insubordinate, and "not working up to potential" instead, and spared having to take medications that are now widely prescribed, not without side effects, and therefore controversial. There were no seat belts when I was very little; perhaps the image of babies flying through windshields wasn't any more of an issue than adults flying right after them. Maybe, when we drove those less-streamlined, clunkier, gas-guzzling cars of the 50s and early 60s--the ones that left those huge carbon footprints and befouled our air supply--we drove more slowly and carefully, requiring fewer precautions for strapping in the little ones. (I don't have any stats to back this up, but I bet you could find them easily, in this era of information overload.)

But we didn't come out okay merely in spite of our parents' ignorance, and certainly not because of it; perhaps we came out okay because there were, indeed, fewer hazards. We weren't being bombarded with as much petroleum product residue, or with as many microwaves. Mutant, "Incredible Hulk"-style strains of bacteria had not yet learned to scoff at antibiotics.

That's the practical side of the factors contributing to today's fears, but there's another side to it, incited by commerce. Fear is, after all, a great money-maker, and for this, the media alone is not to blame. Fear isn't just an element of a good story that gets people buying newspapers and tuning in to the evening report; it's how we innocently motivate ourselves to come up with solutions. The creators and broadcasters of the solutions make the big bucks by playing to our desire to be comfortable, safe, secure and happy. Of course, that's Advertising 101, nothing new.

Whether we're fussing over a child's scraped knee, or the possibility of identity theft, we're not afraid of those things per se, but of what we think they mean...some dreadful story of a future that doesn't exist. The kid's scraped knee could result in an invasion of flesh-eating bacteria, and that would result in fill-in-the-worst-case-scenario (hospitalization, big medical bills, no Disney vacation this year, loss of limb, loss of life, loss of the dream of a happy family which absolutely has to include little Joey in all of his pre-scrape perfection). Identity theft could mean that someone else gets what's rightfully yours, and you'll suffer...either momentarily as you invest hours and days you'll never get back to contact your credit card companies and financial institutions, or--worst-case scenario--for the rest of your life, if someone manages to get away with charging several Learjets to your Amex, and you never qualify for a mortgage again.

So, ultimately, all fear is the fear of loss and death, whether it's the loss of a life, the loss of a dream, the loss of control and any possibility of having things go the way we want them to. And we've been well-prepared to respond to fear rather than to the reality of what's happening now. The result is to become hyper-vigilant; more fearful, because, to our way of thinking, there is everything to lose.

What if we were to relax around these fears by questioning them? What is the worst that could happen? If you don't try to micromanage every aspect of your life and your family's well-being, if something terrible happens, it's all your fault and it could have been avoided--is that true?

Few ever stop to examine this, because uninvestigated, our fearfulness appears to have greater payoffs than courage, tranquility, or rationality. The next time you find yourself reacting with hyper-vigilance out of fear, I invite you to take another look at what lies beneath.


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

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.

Treat Every Concept as a Character

Very often, when I'm facilitating someone on a belief such as, "I am afraid," I'll ask, "How do you treat fear when you believe this thought?" The client typically says, "Wow, I never thought of asking myself that," and they find that they have been treating concepts the way they treat the people in their lives when they attach to concepts: with loathing, perhaps, or with avoidance.

If you are doing inquiry with underlying beliefs from a Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet—or, if you are writing about a universal belief, or about yourself—you may find yourself with more concepts to write about than characters. I invite you to treat each concept you question as a character in your story. Doing this can help you to deepen your realizations about your emotional life.

For instance, if you believe, "I shouldn't get angry," you may discover, as you answer question three, that you treat yourself harshly when you get angry, and that you treat others with distance; you wouldn't want them to see you as angry if you don't want to see yourself that way. So how do you treat anger itself when you believe that you shouldn't get angry?

Do you negate anger? Ignore it? Deny it in yourself? Dismiss it by saying it's really something else? Fear it? See it as the devil? Avoid or criticize angry people?

"There's not enough time." How do you treat time when you believe this thought? As a precious commodity (which means, in addition to valuing it, you could be fearful of losing it, or of not having enough of it)? As an enemy that withholds itself from you? Do you treat it with neediness? With avoidance?

"Nobody loves me." How do you treat love when you believe this thought? As something you lack, something that can be attracted or bought, something foreign? Do you resent love when you believe this thought, just as one might resent someone who doesn't love you?

"My body shouldn't hurt." How do you treat pain when you believe this thought?

"Dave smokes too much." How do you treat smoking when you hold this belief?

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself." Good one! How do you treat fear when you think this thought? If your answer is, "I treat it fearfully," what does that look like in your life and relationships?

Find some other concepts on worksheets you have worked through. See what else you can learn about yourself when you ask yourself, "How do I treat _____ ?"


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

Getting More out of Question Four: "Fear of Four"

Question Four of The Work of Byron Katie is, "Who would you be without this thought?

Sometimes it feels difficult to answer this question. When inquiring into a particularly old, sticky, and fear-based belief, even after some inquiry, we may still believe it. In some cases, we are virtually identified with it. As anyone who dragged around a ratty security blanket in early childhood knows, it can be frightening to move away from something we've held onto for so long.

Let's look at a universal belief: "Something terrible is going to happen." Often, we'll have that thought after something "terrible" has already happened, from an argument or an earthquake. Some of us are anticipating having a bad time over the holidays, whether we're going to be with family, or on our own, based on past experience. (Mom and Sis are going to fight; Uncle Joe's going to get drunk and make a pass at me; I'll be miserable here at home by myself, and my depression will return; the traffic out of the city will be horrendous, and it means that we're going to be late, and it means that...blah, blah, blah.) Remember, fear is always a story of the past, projected into a story of the nonexistent future...and neither past nor future exist now, so when we're afraid, we are by-passing present moment awareness, and making a lot of assumptions.

A "payoff" of holding a stressful thought might be preparedness, or protection. Without this escape clause, we think we won't be okay. So if we're believing what we think, "Who would you be without this thought?" could look like, "I would be toast...completely vulnerable and unprotected." "I would be a stupid doormat; they'd walk all over me if I didn't believe this." "I'd be in denial, and then I wouldn't know what to do if something goes wrong."

That's the good old reliable "I know" mind, doing it's job...which is to resist looking at any possibilities, for fear of annihilation. If mind questioned itself, it may come to see that it doesn't exist. That's more frightening to the mind, or ego, than any other disaster.

I like to remind my clients that they don't have to drop their beliefs, that this is not even possible; at the end of the session, they are welcome to gather up their toys and take them home, if they still want them. This reassurance helps some of us to feel safer to take a peek behind the barriers of "yeah but," "what if," and "I already know that/I tried it before and it doesn't work." The point of no-return only occurs right on time. Tattered and useless as it is rapidly becoming, no one's going to wrest the security blanket away before we're ready.

So if there were no adverse consequences to simply taking a look, who would you be without the thought, "Something terrible is going to happen?"

Some possibilities: I'd be out of another's business. (God's/reality's business, in case of earthquake; other person's business, in case of an argument). I would notice I am okay in this moment; still breathing. I would show up fully, available, present, a listener, an observer, a student. I would be creative, open, curious, positive, proactive.

In these possibilities, in the absence of the stressful belief, there is no resistance, and with no resistance, there is no fear. And now we can take an honest look at the turnarounds, which provide the rest of the story, the part we could not see before inquiring into the truth.

NOTE: In future posts I will continue to discuss how to get more mileage out of Question Four. I welcome your comments and suggestions.


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

Why Fear Isn't Real

I bought a bicycle the other day. I haven't ridden in many years, so I didn't think about such things as, "Santa Cruz is hilly, and bikes go very fast downhill." The bicycle is very basic; no bells and whistles, and it has only foot brakes, which, as I discovered, are no good at all downhill, and I don't have the world's greatest sense of balance. In addition, at 5'2", my feet don't quite touch the ground on a 26" bike, even with the seat lowered all the way down.

As I was catapulting down what has always seemed, by foot, like an innocuous incline, my mind entertained thoughts like, "I'm going to fall." "I'm going to crash into something." "I'll be injured." "I'll injure someone." "This isn't safe." All thoughts of a nonexistent future, and, when believed, very frightening.

There were thoughts of the past as well. "They should have sold me a better bike." "I made a mistake." "I am too clumsy to ride." "Accidents are always terrible." These in themselves were not frightening thoughts; however, they were circumstantial evidence that bolstered my fearful, future beliefs.

The good news is, it's impossible for fear to be about anything real. Fear is the story of a future, always. And, if you've noticed, the future doesn't exist. So there's nothing to be frightened of.

This is "Quantum Physics 101." It's even "Spirituality for Beginners." Many of us "know" this, intellectually. Why, then, do we fear? Because very few, if any, of us live with present-moment awareness all the time. As illustrated above, I sure don't.

I experienced my first California earthquake last week. I haven't been afraid of earthquakes, because I've had no personal reference for them, other than a little bitty wall-shaker in New York City back in the early 1980s. I'm told there are little quakes all the time in California, and mostly we don't notice them. You can't feel a small one happening if, for example, you're riding in a car and the road doesn't buckle. You might notice a slight tugging, as if you have a flat tire, but otherwise life goes on, the birds sing, the dishes don't fall out of the cabinet.

At 5.6 on the Richter scale, this quake registered as "moderate," and we all felt it here in Santa Cruz even though the epicenter was northwest of San Jose, some distance away. Before I realized it was an earthquake, I had no fear at all. I thought my neighbor upstairs had overturned over a bookcase or something! My thoughts, after the fact--about things like potential aftershock (and possible loss, damage, costs, injury)--were much more frightening than the quake itself, which was over in seconds. Once the thoughts kicked in, the body went into fear response: numbness in the extremities, pacing, loss of appetite. It didn't last, because I have some practice in noticing the thoughts that give rise to the reactions.

I've noticed a belief that the worst thing that could happen to me, or another, is death..which is the one future thought that is a guarantee. Nobody makes it out of here alive. What's truer is, the worst thing that could happen is a stressful thought about that death. Our fears about it can never be the truth. We can't know we won't be okay.

All fear is the fear of death: death of the body, death of the dream, death of the ego. When I noticed was that I was very much alive and well, and that I could neither know anything about nor control a nonexistent future, my fear disappeared, and I had a late lunch. I even got some sleep last night, even while my thoughts said, "Hey! Look at me! Possible aftershocks!" "We'll talk about it in the morning," I told them, "If we're still interested." (We weren't. There were other things on my mind, such as the imminent spraying of carcinogenic pesticides on Santa Cruz County, and whether or not I was ever going to get my thoughts and notes together in time for my upcoming classes.)

I continue to question what I believe, because I want to know that all is well in my last moments of life, whenever they are. They could be now, for all I know...and if that thought frightens me, it takes me away from living; I am dead already. The worst that could happen is happening already when we attach to our stressful thoughts: a fearful end to life.

Questioning and understanding fears means to have the presence of mind to live fearlessly. This doesn't mean you won't equip your bike with hand brakes, or that you'll blow your retirement account on a fancy car because there's no future. For this reason, some people are reluctant to question fearful thoughts; it's as if the thought itself were some sort of protection against disaster, and if we weren't fearful, we'd be inviting calamity. If you've noticed, "disaster" happens, whether we fear it or not.

I'm enjoying immensely my cute new bike helmet, which is white with magenta pikake flowers. It's supposed to protect me against some terrible head injury that could happen, but I don't think about head injury when I put it on. Similarly, now that I've done some inquiry about my bike not being safe to ride, I'm loving the thought of getting hand brakes so that I can ride with fewer restrictions. That's different from doing it because something terrible could happen if I don't.

I like having a retirement account; it feels right to me. However, I get nuts when I think the retirement account won't be enough, or that I need it at all. See the difference?

Based on these glimpses of "all is well, until I say otherwise," it seems to me that it is entirely possible to live a practical, sensible life without being ruled by fear. In fact, I'd say that's the only way to live a life that's truly sensible, practical, and loving.

That's what's real; not fear.


Deepening Transformational Inquiry: "Yeah, But...My Fear Is Real."

1. Write down your worst fear of the future, the one you really believe and don't want to work on because you KNOW it's true! Write it with this sentence construction: "I am afraid of ______ , because ______ ."

Example: Highway 17 is the commuter road that takes you out of Santa Cruz, California and "over the hill" towards San Jose. Many people really hate driving on the 17 because it is narrow, often congested, and has numerous hairpin turns and blind spots. Accidents are fairly common on this road.

So you might think, "I am afraid of driving on Highway 17, because I could have a terrible accident." (Possible proofs of truth: I'm a new driver; my car's too old; other drivers are careless, don't look, don't obey the speed limit; I had a bad accident on the 17 once before; my best friend died on that road; etc.)

2. Look at the statement you've written, and circle the fear itself.

Example: "I could have a terrible accident."

We're not going to question this belief just now, or the "proof" of its validity. Let's assume it's "true."

3. Now ask yourself:

What's the worst that could happen if your fear of the future came to pass?

If there's more than one "worst" thing, make a list. Depending on the fear you're writing about, your answers might look like some of these:

* I'll lose my relationship.
* I'll be homeless.
* My family will suffer.
* I'll total the car.
* I'll lose my job.
* I won't have enough money when I'm old.
* I'll hate myself.
* Everyone will be angry with me.
* I'll be disabled.
* I'll die.
* I'll be in anguish forever.
* My reputation will be ruined.
* I'll cause harm.
* God won't forgive me.

Your list will reveal more "future" to you...and more beliefs to work on. Good! Beginning with the one that scares you the most, hold each stressful belief up against the four questions and turnaround of The Work. Explore how you might live your life differently (in actuality, or even just mentally, as you may not need to change a thing that you're doing.) Discover what's real for you, in this moment, now. Is there any fear in it?

"The fear of death is the last smokescreen for the fear of love."--Byron Katie, Chapter 12, "Making Friends with the Worst That Can Happen," from Loving What Is

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

The Worst/Best Thing That Could Happen

Charles Dickens said, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us..." (From A Tale of Two Cities.)

Byron Katie tells us, "The worst that could happen is the best that could happen, but only always." (It's that "the universe is friendly" deal.)

If this reasoning makes you feel a little schizophrenic, you're not alone. We don't call it The Work for nothing.

Here's my recent encounter with that thing I call hellacious grace:

Thursday night, Sept. 27: I perform a routine software upgrade on my already troublesome new laptop. The machine makes an eerie noise, the screen goes black, and it shuts down. Naturally, it is fifteen minutes past the time my computer's manufacturer's customer care reps shut down for the night.

I try all the rebooting tricks I know. Look up user forums on my spare (very spare, and dying) older computer. Try calling my friend Loren, who knows everything about computers and most other things; he does not return my call.

I am up all night obsessing.

Friday: After a long time on hold, I manage to get ahold of telephone service representatives at Lemon Computers, Inc. Not one, but several of them, since the first one sends me to a "specialist" who knows no more than the first rep, and then, finally, to "customer care," a.k.a. "Where we send the irate customers who won't be appeased by us underpaid kids."

The news is not good. I have to send the computer in for repairs, which could take a few weeks, or get to the nearest Lemon store, a half hour away, and me with no car or public transportation option to get there. My data, I'm told, is likely lost. Lemon's warranty does not cover data loss or retrieval, even if the computer's malfunction is caused by a faulty product or the company's negligence. I look into nearby data retrieval companies; if they can even do the job, they will charge me almost as much as the computer itself cost. Most months, I don't earn what a computer costs.

I reach several friends, who commiserate or give redundant advice. One asks if I want to do The Work; sounds great, but my story is, I don't have time, I have more important things on my plate here (and besides, I'm right, damn it).

Friday evening: Loren finally calls back, and says he supposes he could take me to the store in Los Gatos the next day, but suggests we try a few other things first.

I am overwhelmed, and at a loss. I hadn't gotten to figuring out a system for backing up my files, because I was spending most of my computer time trying to coax out or exterminate the software and hardware bugs it shipped with. I don't have my precious manuscripts, my workshop notes, my online address book, or my client data, and I have a full schedule ahead. How will I be present with my work, for my clients?

I go to the movies, see a weepy chick flick, eat pizza (my first meal since lunch the previous day), and try to forget.

Friday late night through Saturday morning: I toss and turn. Finally it comes to me that I could be doing The Work as long as I'm not sleeping or tinkering with my Lemon laptop. Investigating the belief, "I am dependent on my computer," provides me with some enlightenment. I don't take care of my business or myself when I believe this thought. Obviously I can't sleep. I hate the people at Lemon. I hate the very machine I feel dependent on. Without this thought I would not presume disaster; I would do what's in front of me; non-computer tasks. I'd do all the research I've been doing but without all the drama. I turn the thought around. Wow. Truly speaking, I'm not dependent on anything; I'm still breathing. I can reconstruct whatever information I can. Creative oeuvre? I must not need it anymore. If the universe is friendly, what wonderful thing will take its place?

I don't feel better, but I do have some perspective; enough to get a couple of hours of sleep.

Saturday morning: I am, if not joyous, amazingly and entirely surrendered to what is. Que sera sera. I am going to live my life in the meantime. I go to my improv class; it is entirely enjoyable. Loren is there; he comes home with me to examine the "patient." After awhile, I ask if we could please just go to the Lemon store; he hesitantly, but kindly, agrees.

It's a perfect day in the South Bay. There's no traffic on the way to Los Gatos, taking us only 20 minutes. The Lemon store is hopping with young people needing their mp3 players fixed. The technicians can't see me until 3:30. Perfect; obviously it's now lunchtime. I treat Loren to delicious Vietnamese food, we window shop for housewares and clothing in funky-chic boutiques, and I purchase a half pound of some of my favorite childhood treats—mocha coffee beans, red Swedish fish, "likkerish" whips, and Sourpatch fruits—from the penny candy store.

We return to the computer shop. The tech, God bless him, gets me up and running in minutes. I get my data backed up on the spot, and my future backup solutions are mapped out for me. I tell the tech genius about a wireless problem I've been having, unsolved several attempts earlier by the phone "specialists." My Genius diagnoses the problem in a flash, and takes my computer to the back where it will be sent to the "depot" and returned, all fixed and cleaned up, straight to my door in a week's time at most.

Without my computer taking up most of my time, I clean my apartment, swim, use the phone, watch Netflix. The mended laptop arrives in just five days. My business survives, as does my life's work, without my even needing any of it

Is there an example from your life of "The worst that could happen is the best that could happen?" Send me your comments; I'll compile some of your stories for a future post.

P.S. Upon reading this, my friend, Rev. Tami Coyne wrote, only half joking: "Wonderful article. There's something about computer problems that make major existential crises--like the inevitablitity of death--seem irrelevant."


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

False Evidence Appearing Real

If you've ever attended a 12-step meeting, a satsang or a New Thought church service, you've likely heard that handy definition of fear: False Evidence Appearing Real. When I first heard that phrase, it was reassuring. For years I carried it around like a talisman to protect myself from feeling crippled by fear. Unfortunately, this didn't work!

Simply to say that fear isn't real is equal to saying that fear is real; it's another mental construct with no substance, no personal experience behind it. I didn't know the truth of this saying in my heart. The self-inquiry process of The Work—which I call Transformational Inquiry—allowed me to tap into the truth of this acronym.

The most frightening thing that can happen is a thought that frightens you; fear is the mind's habitual response to long-held beliefs. How do we know what's real and true? By questioning the thoughts that frighten us. If your child comes to you in the night in fear because there might be a monster in the closet, you don't say, "Your fear isn't real; go back to bed!" You take the child by the hand and look in the closet; nothing less than the truth will convince her. Similarly, in The Work, we take the mind by the hand, switch on a light and see what's really in the closet: clothes casting shadows, cobwebs in corners. If there's really a monster perhaps we can coax it out and tame it.

Today, when I feel afraid, I don't "hold my head erect and whistle a happy tune" ("For when I fool the people I fear I fool myself as well"—do you think Rodgers and Hammerstein recognized the irony of this?) I don't repeat self-soothing words to myself. Instead, I inquire to know what is real and what isn't.

Please join me on March 29 for an experiential hour of Transformational Inquiry with The Work of Byron Katie, an easy-to-learn, self-directed process of targeted questions and gentle reversals. Created by my dear, dear friend Byron Katie—formerly a homemaker and business woman from California who for many years experienced crippling rage and depression—The Work clears out the fears that no longer serve, enabling you to experience your core of courage, mental clarity, wisdom and joy.

There is no charge for this teleclass; long-distance charges may apply.

March 29, 2007
Fear Isn't Real: Discover Your Core of Courage with
The Work of Byron Katie
5:30 pm—6:30 pm PDT

For more information and registration, visit
http://www.clearlifesolutions.com/events.htm


Please note: this event is no longer affiliated with Professional Dreamer Week.

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