Once when it was cold, and I was all alone and bitter and in despair, I got myself a pen and a notebook.
Time to write my way out of this suffering.
Judge your neighbor.
Write it down.
Ask four Questions.
Turn it around.
The happiest person I'd ever met suggested that as a way out of suffering.
I was suffering. The girlfriend of 7 years had left me for Tom.
Not fair, poor me, sad bitter and so on.
Being bitter, thinking bitter thoughts, complaining, get others to agree with me, hadn't done the trick.
So, Judge my ex gal:
"She should not have left me."
Of course not. He was good looking and smart and charming and had an English accent to seem even more charming and smart and he drank coffee and she worked in a coffee shop.
We'd met, this gal an I, when she was in Berkeley, getting her degree in Landscape architecture. We talked design, gardens, roamed Berkeley together, feel in love, had the usual fun of that, drank coffee.
She finished her degree and we visualized the perfect cottage in Sonoma, after scoping out about six towns in the country. We wanted to grow. We wanted out of Berkeley. We found Sonoma, with it's 10,000 population, and nine acre plaza and only an hour from the bay area.
And we "manifested" the white cottage, on land, with oak trees on one side, a meadow in front, a creek on the side, only seasonal, but still, 4 months of gurgle gurgle is pretty grand. And not visualized, but cool, a quarter mile driveway lined with walnut trees and olive trees.
Heaven, and we gardened, heaven and a strange thing happened in paradise.
We fought.
Ah, what did we argue about?
Who knows?
And here, let me clue you in to the generic argument:
Person A: "I'm right and you're wrong."
Person B: "No. You have it backwards, I'm right and you're wrong."
Person A: "No. You have it backwards, I'm right and you're wrong."
forever and eve, louder and louder with the context hardly mattering and EVER so important.
Anyway, we argued, and then at the end I DO know what we argue about.
I was right and she was wrong to be spending so much time with Tom.
Here's a hint, on how to make jealousy a self-fulfilling prophecy: spend a lot of time hassling the person for liking someone else.
So we argue and the choice for her got clearer and clearer:
Stick around me and be argued with that she's wrong.
Hang around and be charmed by a man with an English accent who thinks she's the brightest rose in the morning dew.
And so she chose.
And I'm alone.
And I have my paper and pen, and it's time to write my way out of suffering.
MAYBE.
Let's see.
Judge the one you are blaming from your suffering: And write it down.
"She should love me more."
Ask four questions.
One:
IS IT TRUE?
Hell yeah. I'm suffering. She should love me more and stick around. ( Ha! Selfish malarky, but the answers have to be honest)
Two:
CAN I ABSOLUTELY KNOW THAT IT'S TRUE?
As, in the Universe needs this to function. As in, I can be absolutely certain that for her life and my life and blah blah blah, she should "love me more," whatever that means.
And the answer, sigh, is no.
Hell no.
Which means, darn, the statement, "She should love me more," is a thought, and opinion, and like most thoughts and opinions, is not true.
Dang.
Question Three:
HOW DO I REACT WHEN I BELIEVE THE THOUGHT/ STORY/ OPINION/ BELEIF?
Wow. Well, that's pretty clear. Miserable. Sad. Angry. Bitter. Betrayed. Poor me. Victim.
On and on.
And that's the kicker: It's the thought setting me up for all this. Not her.
How do I know?
Question Four:
WHO AND HOW AM I WHEN I EITHER DON'T HAVE THE THOUGHT IN MY HEAD/ HEART, OR DON'T BELIEVE IT WHEN IT COMES AROUND?
And, I'm just me, here now. Or me, there then, in a garden, in a beautiful town, alive, seeing the skies and the trees and without the thought: no suffering.
Can it be that easy?
Maybe.
But wait, there's more:
Judge your neighbor.
Write it down.
Ask four questions.
Turn it around.
The turn around is to eat your own medicine,
You should listen to me more becomes:
I should listen to YOU more.
I should listen to ME more.
You should appreciate me more, becomes
I should appreciate YOU more
I should appreciate ME more.
So, with Tom's new gal, my new X:
"She should love me more,"
Becomes
I should love HER more.
I should love ME more.
Yeah, okay. I write that, think that , and then ZAP.
I REALIZE THAT.
I still do love her, and most of my suffering had been from stopping that love, and when I do the turn around and "love her more," what do I want:
I want her to be happy.
And she is happy.
With Tom.
Great. Loving her more means wanting her to have what she wants.
She wants Tom.
I can love her and be happy she has what she wants.
This isn't theory. This is almost teary,
teary eyed relief and how good the world has suddenly become: someone I love is getting what they want.
And loving me more?
Ah, it means doing the work, the writing down, the questions the turn around on the next thoughts that come up once I let her go, as if I had a choice:
"I won't ever find anyone as great as her."
I did that work.
What happened is another story, a sweet story, but let's just say this work, the work of judge your neighbor, write it down, ask for questions, turn it around, turned my life around.
You have any suffering?
Give it a try.
A pen. Some paper. Looking within. You might find freedom, too.
Good luck.
Bon adventure.
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