unconditional love

I'm not a big fan of self-help books. The few I've read have felt like bad mail-order medicine--tastes awful, costs too much, and never works the way it's supposed to. So I've resisted blogging for the past week or two because I've found my life substantially changed by a book that you can in fact buy in the self-help section of a bookstore. While I'm not concerned about the book's labels, I suspected that anything I wrote about it would be perceived negatively by my fairly intellectual audience.

But one of the things that's starting to change inside of me is my concern about what other people think. I'm discovering how much of an (often unconscious) motivation it has been for my actions, and how crippling that is. I can say without hesitation that as a result of this book, I'm a happier, more centered person today than I have ever been--and that despite some significant personal turmoil over the past few months.

The book is Loving What Is, by Byron Katie. It was recommended to me by my dear friend Linda Stone, someone whom I trust and respect, or I might never have looked at it. I started with the audio version--I have an Audible subscription, and here in Seattle I have a significant (at least an hour a day) commute. What did I have to lose by listening to it? It's not like the time would otherwise be spent doing something useful. But before I'd gotten halfway through the recording, I knew I wanted the book, as well. And before I was finished with the first book, I knew I wanted the second one, too.

How has it changed me? Slowly but surely it's helping let go of my unrealistic expectations of the people around me and my unrelenting need to control them, and it's forcing my attention back on myself and my thoughts. It's like a crash course in the first step of a twelve-step program. Actually, it's a crash course in all twelve steps, with a non-denominational spirituality that works well for my world view, and an astonishingly simple (but not necessarily easy) approach to dismantling your own thought process and then putting it back together in better working order.

And because I've changed my approach to my own thoughts, I'm finding that I'm less angry, less frustrated, less annoyed, less unhappy. And I'm more centered, lighter, and happier. I laugh more. I cry less. I don't yell and snap at the people around me. I don't fume silently because of other people's actions (or inactions).

How long will this last? I don't know. But it doesn't feel temporary. It's not like a diet, or an exercise program. I don't think I can stop thinking in this new way now that I've started. It feels so right, so unforced, so clear a path. It feels as though I'd have to work much harder to stop feeling this way than to continue. One of the things that I particularly like about Katie's approach is that it is so much in harmony with other spiritual ideas that have resonated with me--from the 12 steps of Al-Anon to the concepts of attachment and detachment in buddhism to the simple admonition that we should do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

I have no idea if this book will help anyone else around me, and I'm finally reaching the point where I realize it simply isn't my job to push other people onto a path (although, like Linda, I can see the value in at least pointing out that a path exists). I suspect that it's much like attending a 12-step program--if you try to do it before your mind is ready, it won't do you any good at all. But if you come to it when you're in a place like I was--frightened, angry, lost--perhaps it can help you, like me, find your way out of that, and into a place where you can love yourself, and the world around you, unconditionally.