We can't walk very far into the surf of the ocean of consciousness without becoming aware that the essence of our journey is letting our beliefs and notions just be there without buying into them. We understand that we don't have to pick them up and get involved with them, but rather, we can just let them be there, with love but without identification.
A thought or story of some kind arises, and often just our understanding is enough—our understanding that the thought or story is a fiction, a fairy tale, something that doesn't even begin to actually describe the suchness of this moment—reality as it is.
But then comes along the occurrence that really hooks us. A collection of thoughts grabs onto us and won't let go; we're caught. At that point we might sit and watch the energy, but we feel stuck.
That's where Byron Katie's work is often so helpful. It's so down-to-earth, and yet incorporates such genius.
At such moments we can start asking the four questions that Katie proposes. Behind our feeling of pain in such moments is a story, or collection of thoughts. We put our thoughts on paper so we can "stop them," and then take the first one of those thoughts and begin asking some questions about it.
The first one: Is it true? Can I really know that it's true? In my case I see, once again, that I can't really know that belief or anything else.
The second question: How do I react when I believe that thought? If the first question cracks the door open a little, this second one pushes it wide open. In my case I get to see, once again, my self-righteousness, hypocrisy, desire to be "right" at all costs, and how painful and separating that is.
Then the third question: Can I find one peaceful reason to believe this thought? In my case I get to see how every reason to believe it is non-peaceful. At this point the thought starts seeming much more flimsy, like a soda bubble that's about to open and vanish.
Then the fourth question: Who would I be without that thought? By this time the thought just seems to vaporize itself, and sometimes I start laughing at the ludicrousness of it—or, if the pain was great, crying as my heart opens again.
Then the turn-around: Wherever the "you" or "he" or "she" or "them" appears, substituting "I" or "me," and vice-versa. In my case I get to see, once again, how the world is only my projection of it, and how I only see out there what's originating within.
Then I'll pick another thought from the cluster and go through the four questions and turn-around again, and continue like that with each thought until the whole thing feels "cooked."
The essence of it is simple, but there's a bit more to it than this article has gone into. For more info, click on the link to Katie a few paragraphs up.
Anyway, to me that's Katie's genius and compassion: When the really hard ones come along, those four questions and the turn-around can be an incredibly valuable friend and ally.
If we continue, sooner or later we're left with peace, spaciousness, love, compassion, joy, all of which just happen to be our natural state when we're not imprisoned by our stories and beliefs.
And of course, as Katie would be the first to say, she is also you and I and everyone else. "We" came up with those four questions and turn-around. We gave that gift to ourselves. The ungraspable gave it to itself.
Nevertheless, it's nice to appreciate it in form. Hail to Katie and the countless beings and teachers and bodhisattvas who gently call to us to wake us. Or, to put it another way, hail to ourselves for gently calling to ourselves to see and appreciate who and what and where we actually are.
—jim sloman, 5/8/01 for May 8
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