Why We Believe, Part 4: The "Dr. Phil" Question

Sometimes we just love our beliefs because we are convinced they are working for us, evidence to the contrary. Let's look once again at the belief, "My husband shouldn't have affairs." The client says that if she didn't believe this thought, it would be akin to condoning her husband's affairs. Therefore, he would only continue to have affairs, and she'd be a doormat.

Now for the "big duh" question: Does this thought bring peace or stress into your life? The client is aware that this is a stressful belief and yet she can't make herself not believe what she beliefs...which is as it should be.

I ask the question, "Why do you hold this stressful belief; how is it serving you?" This is a nicer, and more thoughtful, way of asking the famous Dr. Phil question, "How's that workin' for ya?"

Is the thought "My husband shouldn't have affairs" doing the job my client wants it to do?

It's not preventing her from feeling like a doormat right now, never mind the future.

It certainly isn't giving her any control over her husband's behavior.

It isn't providing her with a roadmap to the future.

It's not protecting her, because she's still married to a philandering husband.

So, while the core beliefs underlying this one—the ones about relationships being sacred and people shouldn't cheat on their spouses—may have served this woman in the past, it doesn't look like they are serving her very well now, except to hold that stance of "I'm right, you're wrong" with a husband whose behavior she is tacitly condoning for now. That's enough for some people. Those people don't bring this particular belief to inquiry.

"Is there a peaceful reason to keep this thought?" The client can't find one and is now ready to move to question four, "Who would you be without this thought?"

What she finds is, as a woman whose husband is having affairs in reality, she can be in charge of her own life (which is what she wanted frim the belief, and couldn't get from it). She is free to stay or to go, to discuss the situation rationally with her husband (whether or not he is rational is none of her business and, again, not something she can micro-manage). She can state her needs and observations without shame and blame (instead of "You cheating #(*$@(*&!!, how dare you? You are dishonest, you don't love me, you want to hurt me, you broke our vows, this marriage is based on a lie!"

Instead, her conversation with him might begin with "I am aware that you are having sex outside of our marriage. I value fidelity and honesty in intimate relationships. I want to stay married to you and I don't know if I can if you are not going to be monogamous. Would you be willing to discuss what's going on for you and how we can move on from here?"

Try asking "How does this stressful belief serve you?" the next time you hit a sticky one...and let me know how it's workin' for ya.


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

Why We Believe, Part 3: Unmet Needs, or a Tantrum?

Our reasons (which are sometimes motives) for keeping a stressful belief can also be seen as a list of unmet needs: "I need to be right." "I need to be in control." "I need a purpose." "I need you to listen to me."

It's not a problem to have needs; it's fine to find ways to fulfill them. It's only a problem when we expect that the world will meet our needs when there is overwhelming evidence to the contrary that this isn't going to happen. That's when you know that you're not experiencing the stress of an unmet need; you're throwing an inner tantrum.

Fighting with reality in the form of attachment to stressful beliefs that do not serve you (or no longer serve you) can never fulfill our needs. Identifying our needs (as opposed to our desires) is the first step towards understanding the source of a problem, as well as the first step towards the fulfillment of our needs.

Byron Katie likes to say that fighting with reality is about as effective as trying to teach a cat to bark. If you want a barking animal, how much easier would it be to simply get a dog! (Or, if you're allergic to dogs, a burglar alarm. Need fulfilled, cat off the hook!)

This has evolved into a cliche among people who do The Work: "How do I know I don't need ____? I don't have it, and I'm still breathing." That's true, but for most of us, it's not so easy to shrug off a perceived need with a "Katie-ism." We have to see it for ourselves. Still, the word "need" can be problematical.

I give workshops with a teacher of Nonviolent Communication who has a Buddhist background and also does The Work. In NVC, they use the term "need" a lot, especially around authentic communication of said needs. I told her that I wasn't comfortable with the word "need," as I could see where I always have what I need in the moment, that "I need" is a story of the future and therefore never real right now. She agreed that, from a Buddhist standpoint (and a Worked one), there are no real needs, so I could swap out "needs" with "values." For example, "I need connection" becomes "I value connection." That feels truer to me.

So, "I value a serene work environment," communicated peacefully, isn't "You play that stereo too loud! You should be more considerate of your neighbors!" That's a tantrum. Rather, as a practitioner of NVC, or anyone who has identified what they value, would say, "I am upstairs working and finding it difficult to concentrate. Would you be willing to lower the volume on your stereo? " This respects the needs, or values, of the person who likes loud music, without making them wrong. There's no manipulation in it; it's a request, one that may or may not result in the fulfillment of your needs.

If I've done my Work, and I'm clear that I don't need my neighbor to do what I want, and she doesn't turn down the bass, I have a choice to put on noise-reducing headphones, work somewhere else, ask her again...and not go to war with her or with my life, even if it means that eventually I will call the management company to let them know there's a noise "problem."

Next, how a TV cliche can help free us further: Part 4, The "Dr. Phil" Question.


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

Why We Believe, Part 2: When the Payoff Is Hard to Find

When a client (or I myself) can't easily answer the Question Three subquestion, "Why do you hold this belief? How is it serving you?" I use this additional subquestion: "What do you fear would happen if you didn't believe this thought?" This is another way to reveal how the client has been using the stressful thought to attain or to avoid something.

Example: The client' statement is, "My husband shouldn't have affairs." After doing some inquiry, she still believes this is true. I ask her if the thought is peaceful or stressful and she says, "It's a peaceful thought. We took marriage vows. I didn't agree to his being unfaithful."

"Okay," I ask, "And what is the reality of it? Is he having affairs?" "Yes." "Is that peaceful or stressful for you?" "Well, of course that is stressful."

"It is stressful,' I say, "because it is what is true—he is having affairs—and you want that to be different from what it is."

"I can see where fighting with reality is driving me crazy."

"Then why do you hold the belief that he shouldn't have affairs, when he is? How is this thought serving you?" The client says the belief isn't serving her at all, and yet she believes it, and because she relies on her husband for financial support for her and her children, she won't leave him.

Mext, I ask her what she fears would happen if she didn't continue to believe this stressful thought. Her answer: "If I didn't believe that my husband shouldn't have affairs, I'd be a doormat; he'd just cheat on me forever and I would have to pretend it didn't matter."

Usually, the client's answer to this subquestion points to what is already happening, if only in his/her mind. In this case, my client is complaining about a man who is already having sex outside of their marriage. She already feels like a doormat with the thought that he shouldn't, because it flies in the face of what's true: he does. And she is already pretending nothing terrible is happening, so as to spare her children any grief.

So again, I ask, what is it the payoff for holding this belief? She hopes it will help her not to feel like a doormat. She thinks it gives her some control over her husband's behavior. ("He'd cheat on me forever" is another thought that the client could question.)

The client sees how she has been causing herself stress in the name of trying to get peace. It's an honest mistake, one that I daresay most of us make quite often. It doesn't mean she has to condone her husband's behavior, or divorce him, or stay with him. This is just a window on her inner world.

What followed was that the client realized she didn't really care that her husband had sex with other women (in fact she was relieved that he wasn't pressuring her into sex); only that his doing so would mean she might be deprived of his support. "If he cheats on me, he'll leave me, and it means that I will be without support."

Now, seeing that her "shouldn't" thought was a projection into a frightening and non-existent future (could it be that he wouldn't leave her, or that if he did, she would still be supported?), she was able to be, if not sanguine, at least saner about the situation, aware that she had choices and did not have to be a victim of her husband's behavior.

But what if you believe you really do need things to be different? In Part 3 of this series, we'll look at whether our thoughts are really about needs...or if they are merely tantrums.


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

Why We Believe, Part 1: Are You Being Served?

In question number three of The Work of Byron Katie, "How do you react when you believe this thought?" we sometimes use a subquestion, "Why do you hold this (stressful) belief?" In other words, what is the payoff for holding that belief? How is that belief serving you? Is there a peaceful reason to keep this thought, one that does not bring you stress, suffering or pain?

Many times, a client's initial response to this subquestion is, "There is no payoff; it's not serving me." When I hear that, I ask the client to sit with that question for few moments and see if anything comes to them.

In my experience, we never attach to a stressful thought unless we believe it is going to do something for us. That "something" might not be a very good benefit, or it may be outmoded...but there always is some reason why we continue to believe what we believe, even if it feels terrible.

Here are some motives for keeping a stressful thought: (You may have others; if you do, and you'd like to share them, please write your motives in the comments.)

-I get to be right.
-I get to feel superior.
-I get a sense of control (over a person, a situation, the universe).
-I get to blame someone or something else for my unhappiness.
-I don't have to look at my part in the problem.
-I don't have to change.
-I get a sense of security or safety.
-I don't have to take responsibility.
-I get a purpose in life.
-I get to keep a familiar identity, a "me" by which I have always defined myself.
-I get to know something.
-I am protecting myself from future disappointment.
-I get an escape clause; I'm out of here!
-The thought may motivate me to do something. (Example: I think that believing "I am too fat" will motivate me to lose weight.)
-I will avoid further pain and suffering.

Some people don't like the word "motive." They think it is a "negative" word. I want to point out that I don't think having motives is inherently bad—a motive can certainly be sincere or for a seemingly kind reason—but it might also cause unnecessary stress.

In pointing out these underlying motives to the client (or to yourself, if you are doing The Work yourself), we are not setting out to make the client wrong for having them. A belief that no longer serves could well have served the client in the past. It may have been a matter of survival to believe, for example, "I'm not safe" if, as a child, you lived in a high-crime neighborhood, or if your parents were violent towards each other or to you. It probably kept you alert to some real danger. If you're applying it to your life now, when in reality you are just fine—and the belief causes you distress when it comes up as the story of a nonexistent past or future—
you may want to investigate the thought and see if you still need it.

What if you can't identify the perceived payoff? Stay tuned for Part 2 in this series: What We Believe: When the Payoff Is Hard to Find.


©2009 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.

I Am Crabby, Resentful, Jealous, Self-pitying and Totally "I"-identified Today. Is That Okay with You?

I wrote something similar to the title of this note as my Facebook status one day. The question was sort of a joke (and sort of not!), but actually it is a very good question! Is it okay with you if someone who you see as—well, I don't know how you see me, but some of the nicer descriptions I have heard include wise, self-aware, loving, resilient, someone who "gets it"—loses it sometimes? (Or, in my case, during this past year, rather often?)

The responses from my Facebook friends ran the gamut. Some thanked me for my honesty. Others asked me (in a well-meaning way, or not) if I could absolutely know it was true. A few hoped I would feel better soon. And still others asked me if it was okay with me that I felt the way I did. That is, of course, an even better question.

I can't imagine how not to be other than how I am in the moment, and I'm sure there are those who would expect differently, and might become disenchanted to learn that, simply because I facilitate The Work, write about it, and use self-inquiry as a personal practice, my life is not a choral reading of A Thousand Names for Joy. (If I were to write the story of my life, it would be a book of humorous essays more aptly titled "A Thousand Names for OY!" Or perhaps, "Eat, Pray, Love, Kvetch.")

I have some really good tools for getting balanced and happier in my life when I'm off-kilter, and I love to share those tools. I'm told I'm a good teacher of those tools. I'm inspired by the teachings that inspired those tools as well, even if I don't fully understand or embody them all...even when I'm resistant to using these perfectly simple and effective solutions.

Shocker: since I'm human and I don't always allow myself to "know what I know," I'm sure I have at least as many "bad" days as the average person! I don't always love that I have as many "off" moments, or days, as I do, but I'd rather be authentic and transparent about it than not. And it really is okay with me that I have them, otherwise, instead of sharing this, I would hide behind a happy-happy-joy-joy persona that isn't me 24/7 by a longshot!

So if I am miserable, and I know there is a way out of being miserable, that's how I know it's okay with me that I'm miserable. Nothing wrong with that. In my experience, when I allow myself to keep company with misery, rather than trying to banish it, I end up feeling somewhat less miserable. This allows room in my head and heart to meet misery with understanding. Once understood, misery seems to get bored with me and, eventually, it goes away.

One time I went to a talk by Marianne Williamson. Anyone who has met Williamson in person knows that she is not a happy-happy-joy-joy style spiritual leader; in fact, she's rather intense. She gets angry. During this talk, Williamson said that she was far from a finished product; but that the tools she uses, teaches, and delivers from her own experience (from various religious traditions and A Course in Miracles) have helped; she is better than she used to be. I know this to be true of me too, so I loved that she stood there in front of hundreds of people who paid to see her, and met us where we could really hear her, not separate from or above the rest of us. From where I sat, this didn't diminish the value of what she had come to teach us at all.

Years ago at a New Year's retreat where I was serving on the staff (and not doing a stellar job of it, in my opinion), I bumped into my mentor, Byron Katie. She said something complimentary to me and immediately, and with great embarrassment, I burst into great, sobbing, snotty tears. As she held me and smoothed my hair, she asked me, "What's the belief?" "I don't want you or anyone else to see that I'm not 'on it,'" I confessed. "No," she said, "You don't want you to see that you're not 'on it,' and that's where you mess yourself up." (She used a stronger word than "mess.") Clearly she wasn't at all bothered by my being off my game. Why was I? It felt so good not to have to hide my off-ness any longer, I probably did a better job. I know I found it easier to ask others for help.

Here's another reason why I'm a big fan of this kind of self-disclosure: if it's not okay for me to have days like this, then it's not okay for others to have them, and that would be unrealistic, unkind, and dishonest because everybody in the world, without exception, whether they admit it or not, has them.

I want you to be what you are, and not feel you have to push yourself to be what you are not; not for your sake, not for mine, not for the sake of the world. If I can extend that courtesy to myself, I have half a chance of extending it to my friends, mentors, mentees, clients and colleagues.

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

Ask a Facilitator: Turning Around "Shoulds"

Q: I have been feeling depressed for some time now, and the fear of fear, anxiety and depression has come up for me. As I question thoughts like "I shouldn't be anxious," "I shouldn't be fearful," or "People shouldn't be fearful," I find it hard to find any turnarounds that are meaningful, and The Work doesn't seem to help here. Do you have any suggestions?

A: "Shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" can be tricky to turn around because sometimes we're approaching them with a motive to feel better or to talk ourselves into our out of something. When we do The Work with that kind of agenda, the turnarounds don't convince us; you may as well do affirmations and save yourself the trouble of The Work. (Just kidding.)

So let's start from the beginning, before the turnarounds, because that's where the majority of self-revelations appear; in your answers to the four questions. Without this, your turnarounds can never be meaningful. Turnarounds expand upon the self-awareness you have developed through the education of the four questions; I find they are not particularly useful in and of themselves.

How do you react, how do you live your life, when you believe thoughts like "I shouldn't be fearful," and the reality is, you are fearful? Isn't it something like compounding pain with suffering, plus interest? Does believing the thought "I shouldn't be fearful" lessen your fear, or result in more depression? I've noticed the "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" in my life result in self-flagellation, which is depressing.

Next, imagine how you would treat yourself differently if you didn't believe the thought, "I shouldn't be fearful." With more compassion perhaps? What else? I don't want to feed you the answers, because my answers can't be meaningful to you. Sit as in meditation and find your own.

Once you have done this, you are ready for the turnarounds, the opposites, the alternatives to what you have been believing.

"I shouldn't be fearful," turned around to the opposite is, "I should be fearful." That's what is; you should be fearful when you are. How can it be otherwise? It does no good to try and change it. You feel the way you feel. I would honor that.

To find specific examples of how you should be fearful, when indeed you are, takes a lot of willingness and an open mind. And this is not to cancel out your original statement; it's simply to see what other options you have, to expand your awareness. For instance, I can find "I should be fearful when I'm believing (uninvestigated) frightening thoughts, such as 'I'm not going to be okay.'" I would have to be fearful if I believe in terrible outcomes. "I should be fearful" because I haven't yet learned how not to be; my fearfulness may have been a survival mechanism in the past.

The longer you sit with "tough" turnarounds, the more examples of opposites you'll find. Some turnarounds will feel truer than others. Freedom lies in being able to recognize that nothing is 100% black or white...that there are always alternatives to believing or attaching to stressful thoughts in what I like to call the parallel universe of peace.


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

The Julia In Our Heads

In case you've been living in a cave recently, let me bring you up to date on the bestselling book that inspired the current hit movie, Julie & Julia. It's the true story of Julie Powell, a woman who, on the cusp of 30, found something to take her mind off of her unsatisfying professional life and fast-ticking biological clock: she decided to prepare all 524 recipes in Volume 1 of renowned cooking teacher/TV chef Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in just one year, and to blog about it. She called this the Julie/Julia Project (you can still find the archives online, but I recommend you read the book instead).

In the process, Julie became very close to Julia Child, if only in her mind; in fact the two women never met, never even spoke on the telephone, and had but one brief correspondence.

My favorite part of Julie & Julia occurs when she discovers that her 91-year-old "guru"—whom she all but credits with saving her life—might have had feet of clay—or at the very least, was not exactly the person Julie thought she was. Yet, Julie comes to see that her relationship with the Julia in her head—the supportive teacher-narrator of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and the personable, bizarrely-voiced, often humorous Julia-persona on TV's "The French Chef," plus Julie's mental projection/construct that she calls "Julia"—has been the real relationship, the one that matters, the only place where the two women could have possibly met as friends.

Reading Julie & Julia, I recognized a classic thread that perhaps began with the story of the tribal boy Eklavya in the Hindu epic Mahabharata. Eklavya, who desires to study archery, is rejected by the master teacher Dronacharya due to Eklavya's low caste. Undaunted, the boy makes a clay statue of the master and teaches himself to shoot in its presence, imagining he has the teacher's guidance and blessings. Eventually, Eklavya comes to achieve a level of skill unsurpassed by Drona's star pupil, Arjuna.

However, the story of Eklavya and Drona ends badly, as the master somehow views this as theft of services and demands Eklavya give him his right thumb as gurudakshina (the teacher's fee). Eklavya, revering the teacher nonetheless, severs his thumb and renders himself unable ever to draw a bow again.

Julie, thankfully, does no such ridiculous thing; in fact, buoyed by and grateful for what she has learned/self-taught in the presence of the equivalent of a clay idol, she even makes a symbolic pilgrimage to the Julia Child kitchen at the Smithsonian. And, of course, she appears on TV, writes an irresistible and very successful book which gets made into a movie, and gets to quit her thankless job and move to a better apartment.

The Julie in my head instructs me so well on how to treat the Julias in my head. There have been more than a few people in my life who have been major influences, but with whom I have become disenchanted or who became disenchanted with me: friends, teachers, students, clients, employers, romantic partners, not to mention those people I've liked and admired who have not liked or admired me in return. Truth be told, I haven't forgiven them all. I'm frankly amazed by some of the ones I have been able to forgive and the gratitude I feel to them in spite of everything that went down between us, or that I imagined went down. And some who I imagined would never speak to me again made peace with the me in their heads and we're friends again.

I've been the ungrateful daughter/student/employee, the facilitator who didn't do a damn thing of value for you, the teacher who didn't care about you, the girlfriend who wasn't the person you thought I was, the fair-weather friend who didn't follow through on my promise. I've also been the one you think so highly of that it blows my mind and makes me wonder what drugs you're on.

For better or worse, the primary relationship between two people, whether it's a fan and a remote rock star, or two longtime companions who have shared a lifetime together, seems to be the relationship in the head. We can't control people, we can't make them love us, we can't take back what happened; so we may as well make it right with the one in our head. That's what so much of my self-inquiry has been about.

So, thank you, former spiritual teachers; because of my story of you, I learned how to feel devotion and reverence, how to listen and learn. Thank you, former lovers: because you were attracted to me until you weren't any longer, I learned to see myself as a beautiful, desirable woman. And thank you, those from whom I sought love, approval and appreciation. Thank you for giving it to me when you did, for I must have needed it. Thank you for not giving it to me when you didn't, because that left me with my one and only, the one who will stand with me till death do us part.

I'm happy for Julie that she didn't dismiss an amazing year of her life, put her life on hold, or discount and dishonor a beneficial relationship, just because someone withheld the approval she didn't have and never needed in the first place. I aspire to it.

"When I walk into a room, I know that everyone in it loves me.
I just don't expect them to realize it yet." —Byron Katie

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

Belieftown's Greatest Hits

I was just telling some friends that the other night while watching a PBS disco special (that is not a typo, my friends), I found myself singing along to all of the dance hits from the '70s, including the ones that I never even liked to begin with. I chalk it up to loving the familiar.

That's okay if it's just some silly old tunes. It's not quite as much fun when I start singing, once again, my old songs of sorrow and complaint. Sure, there was a time that I loved those old ditties, but today they are taking up too much shelf space.

And yet, don't you find yourself humming those greatest hits to yourself from time to time? Or singing them to others, much to their chagrin?

Who could forget (and who wouldn't want to?) these old-time extravaganzas and their catchy tunes that by now have become annoying earworms...


Blame—the rock opera best remembered for such toe-tapping favorites as "You Don't Know How to Love Me" and, of course, the title track. ("Blame! It's gonna live forever, baby remember your shame.")

Single! The Musical—featuring the chartbusters "If I Were a Size Six" and "Match.com, Match.com."

For opera fans, there's Boris Notgoodenough. Who could forget Pavarotti's rendition of "Messin' Dharma"?


In order to shake an earworm, they say you have to think of something else, but then run the risk of the replacement being an earworm as well. The fact of the matter is, everything repeated over and over becomes annoying.

So my recommendation is to deconstruct the same old songs. "He doesn't love me; is that true?" "If I were a size size I'd be married by now; how do I treat myself when I believe that thought?" "Who would I be without the belief, 'I'm not good enough'?"

Then you'll have more time and energy for going through those dusty old books on the shelf that are so hard to give away (because no one else wants them either) and that you find yourself flipping through again and again, including Gullible's Travels and Me: The Unauthorized Autobiography.



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

Ask a Facilitator: Affirmations...Yes, or No?

Q: I do The Work and I also practice daily positive affirmations because I really believe in their power to attract good things to life; for example, "I am perfect just the way I am," "I am an-all loving being," "I have infinite patience and love for others." However, the turnaround portion of The Work seems to be contrary to these positive affirmations, since when I turn a judgment around to myself, I have to think that I am not doing something right, that I have the defects and bad character traits that I see in others. Is there a way to reconcile doing The Work with my practice of positive affirmations?

A: Affirmations work only if you believe them, and they don't work if you don't believe them. You can't make yourself believe you are all loving or patient if you have doubts about your loving, patient nature. Conversely, you can't make yourself believe you are unloving and impatient if you are indeed loving and patient at least some of the time. To do so produces stress.

Turnarounds can be positive too: "I am impatient" turns around to "I am patient." But without the education of the four questions, a positive turnaround is meaningless. Repeating affirmations that you don't believe will lead to disconnection, just as continually telling yourself you're not good enough doesn't give you the tools to see yourself as good enough.

I don't do The Work to be "positive" (or negative); I do it in order to reduce stress and understand and welcome all thoughts as friends. "I am impatient." Have I ever been impatient in my life? I can find it, so I can see why someone else might see me that way and call me on it. I am also patient; I have ample evidence for that as well. You would have to embody the traits you criticize in others at least in part, otherwise you wouldn't recognize them. The same is true for admirable traits. You are seeing your own reflection, always.

The Work is a way to identify and question stressful thoughts, period. We don't bother with the happy ones; we get to keep those! To put the stressful mind on paper and examine how we live life out of our beliefs is to see what else is available to us.

At first, I came to The Work in order to feel better, but that is doing inquiry with a motive to change myself or to change outer circumstances. When I do The Work for the love of truth, I notice I don't have to force affirmations on myself; my life becomes an affirmation.

And by all means, if affirmations or any other practices are working for you, don't give them up! I haven't yet seen a practice that couldn't be done in conjunction with The Work...except perhaps the practice of self-hatred.

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