Part II: Understanding

“Throughout time, human beings have experienced insights that spontaneously and completely changed their behaviour and their lives, bringing them happiness they previously thought impossible.”

Sydney Banks

“The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift.”

Albert Einstein

3.

A New Paradigm[2]

February, 2007

The rabbi isn’t your every-day type of rabbi, and the class he is teaching is not one of your typical classes. It’s meant to be the fifth in an eight-week series on the subject of Prayer, but things have taken an unexpected twist. Rabbi Shaul Rosenblatt, clean-shaven and youthful looking, with a touch of a Liverpudlian brogue - and who casually tells us to call him “Shaul” - says we are going to do something different tonight. Having returned only that morning from a conference in Milwaukee, he wants to share his reflections based on what he learned.

“I just spent a few days learning about a novel understanding of psychology known as the Three Principles,” Shaul tells us. “These principles were brought to light by a man named Sydney Banks, a Scottish-born welder who had a profound spiritual experience in the early 1970s. There was no obvious reason for him to have had this enlightened experience; by his own admission, Sydney Banks was neither a seeker nor a spiritual philosopher. He was an ordinary man who had an extraordinary moment of profound insight.”

While Shaul gathers his thoughts, the rest of us wonder where his observations are heading.

“Over time, Sydney Banks spoke and wrote about this new paradigm based on the fundamental Principles of Mind, Consciousness and Thought. When he relocated to Salt Spring Island on the West Coast of North America, Mr Banks began sharing his insights with both those who lived in the local community and others who came from further afield to learn from him. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but from what I can gather, these teachings were the beginning of a revolutionary approach towards understanding mental, emotional and spiritual well-being.”

I listen quietly from the back row - captivated.

“Before long,” continues Shaul, “a willing core of committed teachers began to fan out across North America, sharing this original explanation of the human psyche with widely varied audiences. Two of those people were Dr Bill Petit, a respected, highly experienced psychiatrist, and Dr Judy Sedgeman, a lecturer at the University of West Virginia who holds a PhD in psychology. They were the keynote speakers at the conference I just attended.”

When Shaul pauses, an avalanche of questions ensues. Many of the attendees are trying to make sense of this unusual approach to psychology with its spiritual underpinning. They don’t know what to make of a rabbi talking about well-being and new paradigms in psychology. To some degree, he also doesn’t seem entirely sure of his own grasp of the material. Many of his descriptions of what he heard in Milwaukee are tentative, leading to some confusion and disagreement amongst the audience. So while they ask and argue and analyse, I sit silently, contributing nothing to the debate that rages around me.

Suddenly I start to cry. For a brief moment I am surprised by the depth of emotion that overcomes me. But I am not troubled by these tears, for they are tears of joy, tears of recognition. Everything Shaul says resonates. I have no questions, no objections, no alternative views. A startling conviction and clarity comes over me, a feeling so powerful and profound that I cannot halt the flow down my cheeks.

Shaul has put into words what I have already discovered for myself. I finally comprehend how my life has changed so dramatically in a short period of time. I now have a context to understand the transformation I have gone through over the past two years.

It is time to begin learning the language of the Principles.

Three Principles[3]

The first step was to appreciate that there are three fundamental Principles that explain all psychological experience. Here is how I have come to understand them:

Mind refers to the single intelligent life-source that grants all of us existence and the capacity to think.

Consciousness is the gift of awareness, which allows for the recognition and expression of Thought.

Thought is the manifestation of what occurs to us at a given moment. Through Thought our realities are created.

The Three Principles constitute a radical paradigm shift regarding the nature of the human experience: where it originates and how it comes into existence. Here are the facts:

We think, we are conscious of our thinking, and there is a universal intelligence behind this capacity to think.

These Principles illuminate how the potential for human beings is so much more than most of us have ever imagined. Our potential comes from a place that is infinite and unlimited. All experience is rooted in this same, universal origin.

And yet, we experience a subjective version of reality that is a reflection of our own minds, creating the illusion that life is happening to us from the “outside-in”.

This is a critical misunderstanding, carrying with it significant and potentially life-changing implications.

Personal And Impersonal

Distinguishing between the “personal” and “impersonal” nature of life is something that few of us ever consider. Even less so do we realise the ramifications of this distinction.

We all have a personal, subjective experience of life which is as transient as it is unavoidable. I think of it as akin to a highly personalised version of a compelling movie that has us on the edge of our seats. My viewing of it is mine alone, as are my interpretations of the plot, my response to the cinematography, my interest in the characters, my appreciation of the humour, my reaction to the horror scenes and my understanding of the film’s underlying message. Those sitting beside me, be it my partner or my best friend or a complete stranger, will have their own views, thoughts and feelings of the same film.

By contrast, living life with an understanding of its impersonal nature is radically different. It suggests that this vibrant, dynamic world which feels completely authentic is merely my subjective experience of an incredibly gripping film. When the lights come on at the end of the show I am reminded that however real it seemed, it was only a movie, and I was having my own unique experience of it. Yet, on reflection, I know that an entire process exists behind the creation, production and delivery of the film. Without this underlying system, the movie could not be viewed by a wide and varied audience.

The same applies to the entire psychological experience of human beings. There is a system at work behind the scenes. Understanding how this system operates accounts for the difference between watching the movie as though it were real - and knowing that it is not.

The Principles articulate a fundamental explanation of how our minds work. They are the means to understanding an “inside-out” experience of life.

I had spent my entire life naively looking for security in my experiences. And I think many of us do. We want our relationships, our jobs, our families and our circumstances to be worthwhile, to enable us to feel better. However, I’ve come to appreciate that because our experiences are essentially no more than fluctuations of thought, they can never offer us genuine security.

We think, we feel our thinking, and then that thinking becomes our experience of life at that particular point in time.

Trying to rely on our moment-to-moment thinking to anchor and secure us is like chasing shadows. We can put a great deal of energy into the chase, but its illusory nature will always mean that we aren’t getting anywhere. But here’s the good news: the Three Principles are constant. They are pointing us towards what is always predictable and true.

Knowing that there is a pre-existing system in place that is reliable is hugely reassuring. It awakens us to a bigger picture of life, no matter how frightening, thrilling, seductive, violent, depressing, or chaotic the movie we are currently watching. And in that knowing, we will instantly feel anchored, grounded and secure. That is all I needed. That is all any of us need.

Mind

While Shaul spoke about the Three Principles and the audience got stuck on the concepts and the terminology, I intuitively sensed that the language was simply a tool for explaining the workings of all human psychological and spiritual experience. I knew I needed to look beyond the words to their fundamental truth. The “mind” he spoke of was neither my personal mind nor any other individual mind. Nor was it the biological organism we call the brain. He was pointing us in the direction of a Universal Mind.

I knew that there was a divinity, a creative power, an infinite source responsible for all of life. It was something that I had taken for granted for as long as I could remember. I never went to bed worrying about whether the sun would rise the next morning, whether wild animals would remember how to hunt, whether the rivers would stop flowing, whether the flowers would bloom. I knew, of course, that the seasons would come at the right time (with the caveat that this was London after all!); that the earth would continue to spin on its axis; that the natural world would continue to operate according to its own immutable laws. I knew - and had always known - that there was something taking care of all of that, a pure infinite intelligence, which I called God.

What I failed to see was that the same power, the same source of intelligence, was behind the workings of my mind. It explained why I had often felt so insecure: because I thought it was all up to me. I assumed that in order to face life and deal with it, I had to figure everything out and exert greater control over all eventualities. This was a huge misunderstanding. Critically, I was wrong in believing I needed to know a lot more. We don’t have to know more.

Because there is a Universal Mind that does know. It is all-intelligent and all-knowing, providing us with wise and creative thought that is perfect for each moment. Just like our bodies, it self-regulates. It is the origin of all Thought.

You may call it common sense or deeper knowledge or wisdom or higher intelligence or whatever you wish. Different languages, cultures, religions and fields of study describe it in different ways. A Harvard Business Review article may refer to it one way; literature in the Mind, Body, Spirit category of Amazon Books another. But they all point in the same direction.

A short time after hearing Shaul’s first talk about the Milwaukee conference, Brian and I decided to do something that would either elevate our marriage to another level - or lead to the domestic equivalent of a thermonuclear war. At a stage when I was opening myself to different experiences, we decided to take a major leap into the unknown: we would run the London Marathon together.

April, 2007

Though we have trained for months with focus and determination, I can’t help but worry about the niggling hip injury I am carrying. Nonetheless, it’s Marathon day, so I have I resolved to put it out of my mind. I want to enjoy the unique experience of running alongside 37,000 strangers around many of London’s most famous landmarks, while half a million of the city’s inhabitants cheer us on. It is a glorious day and I am inspired by the magical atmosphere and the great sense of togetherness.

And it’s a good thing that I am. Because at the eight-mile mark, my injury has just gone from being a minor problem to a full-blown crisis. I have torn the muscle around my hip.

The pain is excruciating. Equally painful is the thought of having to run a further 18.2 miles in complete agony.

“You’re going to have to go ahead,” I say to Brian, as I limp to the side of the road. “I’ll try and walk the rest of the way.”

My husband looks back at me blankly. Like me, he has spent months preparing for this race. Dozens of scenarios have no doubt played out in his head about how the marathon will unfold. But I am almost certain none of them include me bailing out on him before we have even run a third of the required distance.

So we just stand in the middle of the road for what seems an eternity, as countless runners covering the eclectic array of London Marathoners stream past. There are fairies and superheroes; grandmothers and blind runners; rhinoceroses and giant Mars Bars. And then there is the two of us: a wife in immense physical pain and a husband completely flummoxed about what to do next. (Saying something like: “Why don’t you take a couple of Ibuprofen tablets and let’s see how you get on,” isn’t going to cut it!)

But as I watch the remarkable sight of the Marathon unfolding, I am hit by the same innate wisdom that has guided me through all my natural childbirths. I know that without medical intervention of any form - be it an epidural or drugs or oxygen - the pain of giving birth seems unbearable. It feels as though the body will break and split apart, as if it is not designed to withstand this degree of agony. I have discovered that the only option is to transcend such thinking, a state of mind I accessed during all my labours. I was able to find some other place that superseded physical sensation, a place separate and less defined by pain.

As with childbirth, I realise now at mile eight of the 2007 London Marathon that again I have to tap into a place beyond thinking about the pain. I must acknowledge it and let it go. I’ve done it before and I know I can once again harness that remarkable, driving, creative energy with its extraordinary healing power. We are all able to access this transformative capacity when we transcend our “normal” understanding of what can be done.

If I try and walk the next eighteen miles it will only take longer and prolong the agony. In the event that it becomes dangerous or potentially harmful to continue, of course I will stop. But I know I can make it to the finish line.

“Let’s go,” I say to Brian, who is still standing in his trainers and running-vest with a vacant look on his face. And without glancing over my shoulder to check if he is following, I start running again.

Three hours and eighteen miles later, we advance together down the famous finale along The Mall, crossing the finish line in unison.

At the time of the Marathon I had just started learning about the Principles. It was so reassuring to discover that I didn’t need to look far to access a direct experience of Mind, that incredible source of energy that pulsates through us. It had been with me - feeding, fuelling and nourishing me throughout five natural childbirths, and now it enabled me to complete the last eighteen miles of a marathon. It is always present - driving and empowering us.

We aren’t alone; there is a system in place that operates perfectly on its own. We are constantly tapping into it without even knowing.

Understanding that this energy source is reliable and constant is a huge revelation. Perhaps this is what people mean when they say they have faith. Faith derives from trusting the system, from knowing that beyond your finite mind is something far more expansive, something infinite that is always supporting you.

The nature of this perfect, self-regulating system is always trustworthy, intelligent, creative and loving. As soon as I stopped trying to override the system by taking it upon myself to think through and figure it all out, I was able to let go. And in that letting go, I found myself falling gently into a welcoming space: thoughts so simple were offered to me, thoughts so precise and so perfect for each moment. My parenting felt right for each of my children. My relationships - with my husband, my parents, my siblings, my friends, and myriad casual contacts - all felt harmonious, uncomplicated and generative. I had all that I needed to guide me through the circumstances of my life. Innate within me was a constant wellspring of common sense, clarity and understanding.

For the first time, I saw Thought as a gift of a Universal Mind - not unique to me but shared by us all. It is knowledge that precedes the intellect; an intelligence that we are universally plugged into irrespective of our background, education and circumstances. Mind is the true source of genuine understanding, not the hard drive of information and memory that has been stored in our brains since we were young.

We all have the capacity to think beyond what we’ve thought before, to think beyond our analytic minds. We don’t need to figure everything out or overanalyse. We don’t need to probe and search to make sense of all our experience, past and present. I had always driven myself to look for solutions, to introspect, to think and think and then think some more. I simplistically and naively believed that this approach would generate clarity. And when I finally realised its futility, I wondered why I had never noticed it before. My overly analytic mind was only getting in my way.

We are all able to reach a part of ourselves that generates Thought not from any rational dimension, but from the deeper, formless, intuitive mind. This opens the gateway to appreciating the origins of and accessibility of fresh insight, which is the key to dissolving habits of thought and behaviour.

This is a place from where we heal and evolve. It is where we find resolution and gratitude, compassion and love. It is the home of well-being and wisdom. It is what I have come to think of as the Exquisite Mind.

Thought

Thought is a product of Mind, brought to life through Consciousness. This leads to the creation of all images, perceptions, feelings and experiences. It is what allows us to have any and every kind of mental, spiritual, psychological, and emotional experience in the moment. Thus understood, Thought encompasses more than our negative or positive thinking and the constant noise in our heads.

The Principle of Thought transcends the continuous thinking that floods our minds at every turn. It creates our entire mental life. Thought is the energy behind the content of our thinking, and not merely the content itself.

Back when I was recovering from the Great Depression, and soon after I returned from the hospital post-breakdown, I fired myself. I told myself that the old Terry didn’t need to show up anymore; she could take a back seat. I became more humble, willing to learn afresh how to do this thing called “life”. The clearing out of the old permitted the new to enter and the necessary insights to emerge. I had come to appreciate that there is a natural flow of new thinking that arises from within.

Previously, my entire life had been filled with thoughts about myself which I was convinced were true. I was not thin enough, pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough or confident enough. I had low self-esteem. I was an anxious person. I was prone to depression. I wasn’t good in crowds. I could only relate to people with whom I had a deep connection. The list went on and on.

Now that I had acquired a glimpse into the make-up of Thought, I knew right away the implications: just because a thought showed up in my mind did not mean it was true or reliable. I could now be far more discerning with what thinking I chose to follow.

We cannot stop thinking. That would be like trying not to breathe. But in understanding the nature of Thought, we naturally begin to loosen our attachment to our thinking. In so doing, we connect by default to a deeper clarity and wisdom.

By seeing thoughts for what they really are-energy moving through our minds - and not facts or truths, we can have a lighter, less intense experience of life.

This explanation of Thought lies at the heart of psychological freedom.

Children are often our best teachers; never more so than in understanding how Thought works. A tantrum transitions into a fit of laughter within minutes. A new experience with new thought occurs to them almost instantly and they become blissfully disinterested in the previous thought of a few moments ago. Children are not judgemental about their experiences. They just move through them effortlessly, devoid of self-recrimination. Have you ever seen a three-year-old feel bad or beat themselves up about throwing a toy or refusing to go to bed? They live their experiences fully and with great presence, but they don’t attach meaning to them. They just have them.

Yet we, as adults, tend to lose that capacity as we grow older. We regard our thinking as more than just energy flowing through our minds. We perceive our thoughts as true - because they feel true to us. We then hold on, clinging desperately to our thinking as though it were a life jacket in the sea of confusion that threatens to drown us.

It’s not always easy to see through the illusion of Thought. Sometimes, without intending to, we get “tricked” into believing the “reality” our thinking creates...

August, 2001

The house is completely packed. A full lift was loaded onto the back of the huge moving van earlier today. There is not a stick of furniture left, save the two mattresses Brian and I are sleeping on, and some makeshift cots for the kids. Tomorrow at noon we leave London. After almost four years of misery, we are finally going home.

I have been unhappy since I arrived in this enormous city. I didn’t want to be here. I haven’t been able to relate to the people; I hated the weather. I have felt alienated and alone far too long.

Indefatigable in my protestations, I finally brought Brian to his knees. He agreed to leave and go back home.

But now a radical thought jumps out at me. It shocks me like an intruder emerging from the shadows without any warning. In the dark room, I touch my husband’s arm.

“I need to tell you something.” “What?” he asks, half asleep already.

“I don’t want to leave. I’m happy here.”

Brian doesn’t reply for a long while. This man had heard me complain about living in London virtually every day for the past four years. No doubt he thinks I have taken leave of my senses.

“You gotta be joking,” he finally says.

“No, I’m serious. I hadn’t realised it, but I’m actually very settled. The kids are doing well, I’ve made some friends, and I’m enjoying the nursery school teaching. I’ve grown to like this place. I really don’t want to leave. London has become to feel like home and I want to stay.”

Another long pause. “Uh, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? Our lift is on the ship already. The new tenants are moving in tomorrow morning. And I’m starting a new job next Monday.”

And with that, the man who has been happy here, who didn’t want to leave, pulls the duvet over his head and drifts off to sleep.

What happened lying on those borrowed mattresses that final night in London?

My thinking about London, which began even before we arrived, embedded itself in my heart and mind. It therefore became my experience of life in London. But as time went on, beneath the noise of dislike and discontent, another experience was unfolding. I was settling down without realising that was occurring. I was changing and evolving - even if my minds’ eye didn’t see it. That’s just how the system works. Life moves us along.

I was frozen in time because of a misunderstanding of the nature of Thought. But as soon as I didn’t need to hold on to my negative thinking anymore - because we were leaving - my thinking dissolved and my unhappiness evaporated along with it. Yet I was so caught in the reality created by my thinking that I couldn’t see it until it was “too late”. (And in case you were wondering, we did leave the next day. Eighteen months later, we were back living in London.)

Consciousness

I also came to understand that thinking is brought to life via what we call Consciousness. We are born with this gift of awareness; it is built into the DNA of the universe. It is not personal to us. Consciousness is what allows and enables our thoughts to be experienced as reality.

Consciousness is the space in which Thought rises and falls. It provides us with a sensory experience of our moment-to-moment reality, adding colour, form and shape to Thought so that it appears three-dimensional. It also makes our thinking compelling and irresistible, creating the potential for an over-attachment to our thoughts.

In the same way as a movie projector throws beams of light onto a screen bringing images to life, so Consciousness is the screen that gives life to Thought.

That is the power of Consciousness. It makes everything seem real. The net result is that we feel as if the energy running through our minds is true.

Consciousness gives us “real time” experience of our thinking, as if it has an independent viable existence. Take fear, for example. Fear doesn’t appear to be self-created. We regard it as a justified response or reaction to something existing in the external world. Invariably, we consider ourselves victims of fear or other emotions because we think they emanate from an outside source. But when we understand that feelings are merely a reaction to Thought brought to life through the “special effects” of Consciousness, we are able to relax and let them come and go. This allows thoughts, feelings and perceptions to flow through us without resulting in any unhealthy attachment.

Glimpsing the workings of Mind, Consciousness and Thought creates a completely different understanding of life. From my vantage point, most models of psychology address the actual content of a person’s thinking, rather than the fundamental explanation underlying it. But once you understand the impersonal nature of the system and how it works, then your personal thinking is put into a different perspective.

When you see that Thought is nothing but a formless or metaphysical energy, your relationship to it changes dramatically. And when you change your relationship to your thinking, it reorganises your understanding of all things. This is because our only mechanism to experience life is through our thinking.

With that understanding, one’s entire life is able to undergo dramatic, profound and lasting change. Mine certainly did.

Thought and Feelings: Two Sides of the Same Coin

In the past, I had treated my feelings with the utmost reverence. Fear, anger, envy, anxiety - I assumed these emotions were substantial and significant. Their intensity would scare me, often without my full awareness. To compound matters, I was constantly puzzled by how to deal with them. Should I suppress my feelings, or express them openly? Should I ignore them, or confront my emotions and risk the consequences? I lived in dread that they would eventually suck me into a black hole from which there was no escape. The best I could hope for was that their intense emotional hold would rule me moderately, like some kind of benign dictator. But this perception, I would later realise, was all back to front.

Feelings are our experience of Consciousness bringing Thought to life through our senses.

The link between thinking and feeling is inextricable: they are two sides of the same coin, fundamentally inseparable. We are always living in the feeling of our thinking. The inside-out paradigm of the Principles shows how we suffer when we see Thought and feeling as separate.

Your feelings about life and your circumstances are a direct manifestation of what you are thinking at any given moment - even if that thinking is not apparent to you consciously. Feelings are simply a sensory experience: they are energy running through your system. But for the fact that you are having a specific thought, you would not be experiencing a particular feeling.

Understanding the relationship between Thought and feeling allowed me to finally relax into my experiences and let them rise and fall, rather than suppress or judge them. This sometimes manifested in strange ways, such as bouts of extreme anger I experienced after I came out of the Great Depression. They would appear seemingly out of nowhere, without rhyme or reason. I had never considered myself an angry person before and was therefore shocked by my own behaviour.

June, 2007

Thump! I watch the thick cream-like substance splatter against the wall, leaving a trail of broken glass and large white blobs all over the tiled floor.

“What was that?” Brian calls out in a startled voice from the dining room where he is working on his laptop.

A few seconds later he is standing next to me staring incredulously at the mess I have made in the pique of anger. His usually mild-mannered wife, not known for violent outbursts, has just butchered one of the pantry’s key condiments. He has no idea what to make of it.

I barely glance at him, instead riveting my attention on the object of my unrestrained anger - the innocuous, formerly intact jar of Hellman’s Extra Light Mayonnaise. And without another word, I storm upstairs to our bedroom, slamming a few doors along the way, leaving my bewildered husband to clean up the remnants of my rage.

The good news is that this fit of anger passed quickly. Within a few minutes I had calmed down and moved on from my childlike tantrum. And yet, this episode was strangely healing and cathartic. Like a kid throwing his toys, it actually made me feel better. That doesn’t mean I’m defending my behaviour. I am not generally an advocate of throwing items when upset. But what I am saying is that it wasn’t necessary to turn my antics into a huge deal. It wouldn’t have helped to beat myself up about it. Sure, the whole thing is quite embarrassing in hindsight, but I also realised that I was going through a phase in my healing where I needed to let my feelings rise before dissipating. I didn’t need to do anything with or about them; I didn’t need to judge them. I just needed to leave them be - and for the first time, I was fine with that.

For so long I had suppressed my rage. Though anger had been lurking like a murky well in my chemistry for many years, it always felt safest to keep my strong emotions in check and under wraps. But I was learning not to become overly concerned about expressing myself. As my thoughts shifted, so did my feelings, and in due course the mayonnaise-throwing moments passed. (Which is a good thing, because Hellman’s Extra Light leaves a really oily residue that is quite hard to remove from household walls.)

Incidents such as this showed me that accessing wisdom and clarity does not necessarily mean I am completely happy all the time.

We may experience grief and sadness, anger and loss... indeed all kinds of emotions, and still experience a spiritual quality of lightness and a sense of our own well-being.

The Missing Link

Sydney Banks perceived a truth that many others had also seen before. But his clear merging of the psychological and spiritual is, to the best of my knowledge, original. He uncovered a fundamental truth about our psychological and spiritual make-up. The Principles he articulated are, to my mind, the missing link in psychology.

My copious reading of the past few years has included countless stories in which individuals who have undergone much suffering manage to overcome their ordeals. They all point towards something remarkable about the human spirit, a common strand that testifies to the extraordinary human capacity to rise above one’s travails. Despite vastly differing circumstances and histories, they share a universal thread that runs deeper than the form of their experience. It became apparent that this capacity was within me too, but I didn’t know what to call it, how to describe it or how to explain it.

When I first heard Shaul speak about the Three Principles, I realised that he - and now I - had stumbled onto something with the potential to be life-changing. It was an explanation of this common thread: what it was, where it lay and why it remains invisible to so many of us. It was the explanation I had been waiting for.

The Jewish tradition teaches that the unborn foetus learns the entire Torah - all spiritual wisdom - in the womb, but then “forgets” it once born. The process of growing and maturing from infant to adult is about re-learning and remembering what was once known and completely clear. All deeper learning is essentially the re-awakening of an understanding that has always existed.

This is how I felt when I came across the Principles. I was hearing something I already knew. Having experienced my own healing, it was inspiring and heartening to realise that I myself had uncovered this understanding before I actually “found” it. When I learnt about Mind, Consciousness and Thought it only served to explain how the shift had occurred. The Principles now offered me a vocabulary and a context. They served as a compass pointing towards my true north, so that should I go off track, I could find the path back.

It wasn’t hard for Shaul to notice that I had been deeply affected by the talk he gave on the day of his return from Milwaukee. The pool of tears I’d shed and the fact that I was probably the only person in the room who didn’t join in the argument raging around him were dead giveaways.

A couple of days later we picked up where he’d left off at the end of the class and spoke further about the picture that was emerging for us both. We agreed that this new paradigm, so simple and yet accessible, could be of great benefit to others. So under the auspices of the fledgling community-based charity Shaul had recently established, we began organising mini-seminars and workshops, eager to provide an explanation of the Principles to whomever expressed an interest.

Shortly after our first seminar, Shaul asked if I’d be interested in teaching the Principles whenever and however such opportunities arose. This was the closest thing I’d had to a job offer since before my marriage. In the past, I would have found reasons to say “no” and suggest he seek immediate guidance in employee recruitment. But no longer. Although I had no formal training, and was still a novice, I responded “sure” straight away. It just felt right and, in my current frame of mind, no other answer was possible.

In order to get me started, Shaul arranged a one-to-one “workshop” with Dr Aaron Turner, regarded as one of the foremost proponents of the Principles. It was a brilliant opportunity - a focussed, extended learning session with a highly respected and experienced teacher and practitioner of the Principles.

Initially, I was drawn to the intuitive, almost intangible quality of the Principles which lay beyond the intellect. But Aaron was able to add another dimension to my education. He showed me that the spiritual and abstract could also be practical and logical. Aaron’s razor-sharp intellect was perfectly suited to conveying this understanding in a manner that made rational sense, whether to business people, academics or trained mental health professionals. Like any mathematical formula, he was able to demonstrate how it all added up.

Even though the experience of the Principles must necessarily be one of personal insight, the actual understanding is logical. Sydney Banks used to refer to it as “psychologic”.

As this logic became clear to me, I began to discern how the Principles could be conveyed to any group, irrespective of their spiritual or practical leanings. Studying with Aaron, I realised that the Principles really were for everyone. Central to this understanding is the premise that human beings at their core are psychologically healthy. Hence many choose to call it Innate Health. Mind, Consciousness and Thought are the building blocks that explain our psychological functioning. From then onwards, I would always understand and refer to them as the Principles with a capital “P”.

I began devouring a series of CDs and DVDs (back in the prehistoric era before downloads and iPods) featuring talks by Sydney Banks and other Principles educators. And as I listened and learned, absorbed and soared, I was struck time and again by the realisation that this was not a new wisdom or a previously unheard-of truth. These insights had occurred to many others over time; the knowledge had always been available. Thinkers, writers, philosophers, scientists, spiritual trailblazers, religious figures and “ordinary” people navigating their way through life had spoken and written about them in different ways.

Yet there was something new and different in the explanation that Syd and other practitioners offered. In three fundamental principles they encapsulate the missing link crucial to understanding the human experience. These principles are simultaneously practical, digestible and clear, thus facilitating independent learning.

The thinkers and teachers I had previously encountered seemed to grapple with the divide - often a yawning chasm - between the insights they arrived at and the ability to affect others. Transmitting their own understanding in a sustainable and accessible manner presupposed a gap between the teacher and the student. By contrast, the Principles place everyone on the same learning curve.

Each of us has the potential to live our lives from a higher level of consciousness. There is no divide between those who know and those who do not. The explanation that the Principles offer is the bridge, making it entirely possible for every individual to have an independent, fresh experience of their own well-being.

The Principles effortlessly unravel the seeming complexity of human behaviour. They provide a simple yet profound explanation that everyone can access. It matters not whether you are a businesswoman or a stay-at-home mother, a psychotherapist or a vicar, a hairdresser or an executive coach. The Principles transcend nationalities and continents, language barriers and education, background and cultural differences. This wisdom is not only for the spiritually minded. It is not the sole domain of the well-educated or those who have experienced psychological suffering. Inmates in prison and addicts in rehab have been equally affected, as have school teachers and doctors, police officers and teenagers, professors and business leaders.

Some of the narratives of transformation are truly remarkable.[4]

“None of my thinking is real”

Eric’s story

I lay on the hard bed in the Eating Disorders Unit of St Ann’s Hospital in North London. Everyone could see how low I had fallen. I was a 35-year-old man of normal height who weighed less than 40 kilograms. I had been in that ward for almost a year.

The illness had trapped me in its suffocating grip. It was slowly squeezing the life out of my emaciated body. I had a wife and two young children at home, but I had lost the will to carry on. I felt no hope. I felt nothing at all.

Out of nowhere, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a youthful face materialised one afternoon by my bedside holding a small hardcover book. He introduced himself as Shaul Rosenblatt. Apparently my wife, Anna, had made contact with him via a neighbour who had attended a session on the Three Principles of Innate Health. I had never heard of these Three Principles nor of Innate Health, but lying helpless and frail in my hospital bed, I offered him a chair and asked why he had come.

Instead, he gently but directly asked me about myself.

So I found myself telling him how I grew up in a large family in Vienna, the fourth child of six. I lost my mother when I was only eight and my father remarried a few years later. Within a short time a host of severe problems became apparent. My step-mother was constantly fighting with my father. She and her two teenage sons became abusive and violent towards us. We found ourselves living in a constant cycle of domestic drama, threat and conflict. It was dangerous to be in that house but what choice did I have? I was a twelve-year-old boy with nowhere to go and no one to turn to for help.

My teenage years were desperately unhappy. Every day was a horror - of fights, of mistreatment, of violence. My younger brother suffered the worst of all; by the time he was a teenager, he was flitting in and out of mental institutions on an almost regular basis. Before long, he had become suicidal. I was not far behind.

I told Shaul how I managed to make it through my school years; how I left home to study further and how I married young. We had kids. I took a job teaching. On the surface, all was going OK. But inside, I was desperately insecure. Something was wrong with me but I could not see a way out. I was so filled with my past that it felt entirely present and real. I was convinced that I was so damaged that I could never be normal.

My depression deepened. I soon developed an obsession with losing weight and was diagnosed with an eating disorder. Within a few months, I had lost so many pounds that I was told I would have to admit myself to a psychiatric ward or the doctors would intervene and admit me irrespective of my wishes.

Although a part of me had always wanted to help myself, I did not know how. I became convinced that I had turned myself into an “eating disorder person”. It was inside my body, part of who I was.

In the hospital, I could not avoid my problems any longer. Months and months were spent talking in therapy sessions. Initially it was a relief to talk and be heard. But I realised after a while that I was just going round in circles. We discussed how, with professional help, I could learn to cope and live with my eating disorder. I might return to a normal weight but most likely would always battle my illness.

Almost a year later, I was still lying so feeble in the hospital bed. I had given up on life. Everything was totally bleak.

Anna was incredibly loyal and supportive through it all. But she could not solve anything. No one could.

Shaul listened thoughtfully to everything I was telling him. And then he said:

“Do you know that all your thinking is not real? The only thing that is real is God.”

Those words changed my life. My whole body reverberated with the impact. It was as if I’d borne a 50 tonne truck on my shoulders, and with that statement, the truck fell off and vanished.

None of my thinking was real. I had spent almost twenty years convincing myself of the opposite. All the effort, all the therapy - to no avail. And then suddenly this unknown person suggests a radically different way of looking at my situation. Shaul was not a doctor or a psychologist, yet I believed him because on hearing his words, something changed dramatically within me.

We talked some more and then Shaul gave me a book written by Sydney Banks. After he left, I opened it and came across this passage:

“Do you actually believe that everyone has mental health within their own being?”

“Yes, that’s the way I see it ... and this inner mental health lies deep in your psyche waiting to be uncovered. It lies beyond the mental activity of personal thought. This knowledge I speak of is sometimes called wisdom.”

The enduring truth of those words resonated so strongly that I felt more hopeful than I could ever recall. I gained some weight and left the hospital a few weeks later.

I didn’t recover in a day. My intense thinking, which previously I believed to be real, didn’t simply evaporate. There was more I needed to learn to help detach myself from the powerful hold of my thoughts.

Many ups and downs followed: a return to hospital, fluctuations in weight and in my mental state. But I had the beginnings of understanding. I knew that there was some place I could turn to for an explanation of what was going on inside my mind.

Shaul came to see me many times. And as we talked, I discovered that the Principles did not focus on curing the illness. Once I had grasped this explanation of the nature of Thought, it meant that I was not ill. There was nothing to solve. I was an innately healthy, well human being who had lost his way for a long time. And now I was finding it again.

As my understanding deepened, the “illness” dissipated on its own, like ice melting away. I soon began to see the implications of my learning in all aspects of my life - my behaviour, my marriage, my parenting. I came to a new appreciation of the human experience - and it changed me as a person.

Five years later there are still moments when I revert to my unhelpful thinking. There are days when my eating disorder rears its head briefly and when I feel that I am suffering again. Yet those words that Shaul uttered that bleak day in the hospital will always be with me. None of your thinking is real.

Even when I fall or become attached to my old thinking, I now have the understanding to pick myself up. That is the bedrock of my faith. It is all the security I need.

“When psychologists stopped investigating the connection between mind and soul, they lost two of the most important clues to what they sought. They focussed instead on behaviour, leading us away from our true psychological nature, ultimately encouraging us as passive victims of life.”

Sydney Banks

4.

Psychological Freedom

Personality Trap

Post breakdown, I unexpectedly discovered a new self. I had always assumed that deep psychological change required hard work. So it was a surprise to discover, through my own experience, that this simply wasn’t the case.

The identity that I had painstakingly constructed over almost three decades began to disintegrate. A love of myself blossomed in its place. This was a love of the formless, boundless and timeless essence that exists within each one of us. When I fell into this place of pure potential, I immediately understood that love in its purest form is absolutely impersonal. It is not a human construct.

I no longer needed to look outside of myself for anything. It was all inside: security, acceptance, gratitude and unconditional love. Everything became simpler. Every moment - even those which presented as confusion or emotional chaos - were perfect. Every part of life’s unfolding plan made sense.

Outwardly, I hadn’t changed. I hadn’t had that nose job I’d always thought would be in my best interest. I wasn’t any prettier or thinner or more articulate - all imperfections

I had assumed needed correction before I could feel good about myself. They became irrelevant, of no consequence. My fallibilities were now just part of my uniqueness and contributed to the whole.

Inwardly, my character was undergoing a transformation. I shifted from being shy, insecure, volatile, self-critical, stubborn and impulsive (amongst a few slightly better traits) to stable, secure, flexible, confident and loving. It was a 180 degree turn around. I had found another platform, one that was not constrained by the old assumptions and limiting beliefs.

I had always believed that my personality was a fixed and accurate reflection of my essence and potential. How wrong I was. In no time, I had shed my old persona, almost like a second skin.

We are all capable of such transformation once we grasp how firmly we have become attached to a set of personal beliefs about ourselves - and how stubbornly we refuse to let go. It is so liberating to discover that the human spirit is boundless, infinite and not limited to who we think we are, no matter how familiar it feels.

As I became more of my fundamental essence, so I became less of my own “story”, a story that had been unwittingly constructed through the power of Thought over the course of nearly three decades. And surprisingly, losing my so-called earlier identity made me feel only more secure. I was now free to be me. The realisation dawned that I had been living inside a cupboard for so many years, not knowing the cupboard was only one space within an enormous mansion.

That mansion contained doors to many rooms. I had never before entertained the notion of opening those doors, assuming they led to places where I did not belong. Except I did belong in those rooms. I had told myself for so long that I was not a high energy person - until I discovered this was simply not true. I was convinced I lacked confidence - until it became apparent this was another fiction. I was certain that, as a confident introvert, I did not enjoy socialising - until I found myself having fun in many situations and connecting with all kinds of people. The rooms of the mansion of my mind were opening up, revealing so much more than I had ever imagined. It was exhilarating to explore new dimensions of myself that had previously seemed inaccessible.

Making Friends With Anxiety

Not everything changed instantly. Some habits took longer to shift than others, none more so than anxiety. Anxiety and I had a complex, life-long relationship that required untangling.

August, 2007

That choking feeling is there again - I am never rid of it. I’m anxious. But I’m always anxious, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

I am on my way to pick up the boys from school. It’s only 4 pm. A long, tiring few hours lies ahead. Supper preparations, homework, cleaning up the kitchen, story and bed time - these are just some of the tasks that my anxious thinking is already clinging to with all its might. My thoughts begin to spiral out of control. Tension surges through me as I wonder how I’m going to cope with these exhausting demands for the remainder of the day. It’s that familiar sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, rising like bile in my throat.

Pulling up at a traffic light, a strange thought pops into my head. Anxiety is my oldest, most loyal companion. It’s been with me my whole life. As a little girl it accompanied me to my speech recital and then joined me during my ballet exams. It was with me at my final high school graduation and has been a frequent guest throughout my years as mother and wife. Anxiety and I have been almost inseparable for as long as I can remember.

It’s a bit surreal but I realise that we are friends in a strange kind of way. So imagining my anxiety is sitting next to me in the passenger seat of our people carrier, I turn to it and say: “Well, if you’re going to insist on coming along to fetch the kids, then fasten your seatbelt and let’s go.”

The woman in the Honda in the next lane looks at me as if I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have. But this is one of the most important conversations I’ve ever had with myself. Because my relationship with my oldest companion is about to change forever.

I arrive at the school and wait for the kids to come to the gate. There’s a lot of noise - mothers and teachers and children shouting and laughing-but I don’t notice the clamour as much as usual. An unusual sensation comes over me: a burden is lifting, the weight easier. I am lighter, freer.

Back home, I already sense my anxiety has lessened. It is still present, but I am less interested in it than ever before. “OK, let’s go bath the kids together now,” I tell my companion.

I have made a decision: I will not fight it, feel bad about it or judge it. I experience anxiety. End of story. Like an old, familiar friend, it is still right there with me. But it is no longer as loyal and clingy as before. Its life-long grip is loosening.

And I know now, and forever, that there is nothing to worry about. Whatever happens, anxiety and I - we’re going to be just fine.

Previously when I’d been anxious, I blamed the external world: perhaps I had too many children or an inadequate support system? Or maybe there was something inherently wrong with me, some kind of chemical imbalance; a genetic pre-disposition to anxiety. But now it occurred to me: I can get through sensory experiences. I’m strong enough to do that.

Anxiety is nothing more than a sensory experience we go through. That’s it. Period. And when you see it from this perspective, it saps out the potency. The mind reaches a dead-end. And because it has nowhere else to go, it settles down.

Once this became apparent, it allowed me to have an entirely different relationship with anxiety.

Shortly after I started teaching the Principles, an opportunity arose to attend an intimate conference in San Jose, California, hosted by Sydney Banks himself. Most of those present had already been greatly affected by Syd, as he was affectionately known, and his teachings. Subsequently, they were able to help their own clients, patients, students and communities. I was thrilled to meet many of the mental health professionals who were making inroads in this new field.

After three productive days of learning, I was due to head back to Seattle to catch my return flight to London. But Aaron Turner, who had also attended the conference, had a different idea. Seattle was only a one hour drive from the little coastal town of La Conner, where George and Linda Pransky lived. Here, these pioneers of this new paradigm of psychology ran a Three Principles consulting practice.

“Let’s make a detour to La Conner and go and meet Linda,” suggested Aaron unexpectedly. “She is just starting a three day intensive with a client and I asked her if you could sit in on a couple of sessions in a learning capacity.” (An “intensive” involves working very closely with a single client over a period of a few days.)

Linda is one of the leading Principles teachers in the world and I was bowled over with excitement at the tremendous learning opportunity which had just arisen. At the same time, I was absolutely terrified. I was a novice who had been working in this field for only a few short months. Now I would be sitting in on a client session with a venerated Principles practitioner with over thirty years’ experience.

But by this time I had learned enough about the nature of Thought not to take my overly active thinking too seriously. I refused to let my anxiety and apprehension deter me from a chance to learn up close with an expert. So I just pushed through, confident that my concerns were merely the adrenaline rush that comes with fearful thinking. It was no more meaningful than that.

October, 2007

Aaron pulls the car to the side of the road and points to a beautifully appointed two-storey house on the main road of this picturesque little town.

“Here we are, welcome to Pransky and Associates,” he announces. “Now, whatever you do, don’t say anything,” he says to me bluntly. “Just keep quiet, stay neutral and listen to what Linda and the client are talking about.”

I nod my head in firm agreement. Of course I’m not going to say anything. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.

The client’s name is Julia. A mother of three, I soon discover we have much in common. She spends the morning session talking about her anxiety.

“It is always attached to me like an unwanted appendage I cannot shake off,” she says. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, I feel anxious.”

I listen with deep empathy and familiarity. I know that old friend well and I know just how persistent it can be.

Suddenly, not long before the session is due to end, Linda turns to me and asks: “Terry, what do you think?”

What do I think? I’m not supposed to say anything. Doesn’t she know that? But she’s asked me so what am I supposed to do? Ignore her? I’ll have to deal with Aaron’s remonstrations later.

So I start talking about my own experience of anxiety and my own insight. I tell Julia about my conversation with my “companion” in the car not long ago, and how I chose then and there to redefine the parameters of our relationship.

“I was anxious then and I am still anxious to be in this room right here and now,” I tell her.

“But I am not going to let that prevent me from being fully present. I’m not prepared to let it affect my well-being. I choose not to show any respect for anxiety anymore. It is just a flow of thought that is playing havoc with my chemistry - but that’s it. I don’t need to treat such thoughts as anything else. So I guess what I’m saying is: I’m happy to be here, even though I’m feeling a little anxious. And that’s cool. I’m good with that.”

I take a deep breath and sink back into the comfy armchair. There’s a long moment of silence while Julia absorbs what I’ve just said. I glance over at Linda and see her looking at me keenly, a soft smile spreading across her thoughtful features.

“I think this is a good time to break,” she says. “Let’s meet again for the afternoon session in two hours.”

During the break, Linda finds me by the cappuccino machine in the downstairs lobby of the practice. I’m stirring some sweetener into my cup when she strolls over and casually observes:

“Well, it looks as though Julia really liked what you said. So, where do you think we should go from here, Terry?”

For the rest of the day, Linda brings me into the conversation where appropriate and consults with me throughout the breaks. She gently guides me, willingly sharing her insights. And all the while, my confidence is growing that I have something to offer and something to share.

Change is Always Possible

When I arrived back in London (and once I had sorted out the leftover lunch in the kids’ school bags, which Brian and the boys had turned into some kind of bizarre science experiment during my week away), I was more excited than ever to get things going in the UK. I scoured the country, looking for anyone who had an interest in, or even some exposure to, the Principles. And I was aghast to discover that this big “secret” was barely known. But having been deeply affected by the San Jose Conference, I was determined to share what I was learning with as many people as possible.

At home, things were quieter and more settled than they had been for a long time. Each of the boys was thriving and developing at his own pace. Brian had recently completed his MBA and started a new job in the City. After so many years when our expanding family and full-on tempo had been hard to keep pace with, we had reached a different stage.

It was time to begin sharing what I had learned. Without much of a plan or predetermined strategy, people began to connect with me in order to learn about this new paradigm...

“Consciousness does fall and rise”

Tammy’s discovery

I had a very typical upbringing within the relatively insular, secure environment of my local community in North London. I married young and began building a family, happy and content. Life was going well - until my third child was diagnosed with mental delay, a diagnosis which later morphed into severe autism. I was devastated. Lacking the psychological capacity to handle the situation, I became increasingly depressed.

Two years later, another son was born and soon afterwards he received the same diagnosis. I now had two children with severe disabilities. This threw our lives and my inner mental state into turmoil. I saw psychiatrists and therapists, trying different medications and therapeutic approaches with no success. I was slipping into a long, dark tunnel from which I could see no escape.

And then my dear mother died suddenly leaving me completely bereft. I was unable to find the necessary psychological and emotional resilience to cope with the huge loss. I distanced myself from both my husband and the loving but helpless support of my family. They were all struggling, each in their own way, but only I was crashing. Soon afterwards, my father passed away. I went plummeting downwards like a stone tossed into a deep well.

Suffering consumed me. I had no energy at all. I could not get out of bed, brush my teeth, eat a meal. I spent 21 hours a day sleeping. My entire life was crumbling. Guilt gnawed at me relentlessly. “Why am I feeling this way? What’s wrong with me?” I asked myself repeatedly. A great heaviness that I could neither see nor understand weighed on me constantly. I was sliding inexorably into an abyss.

The psychiatrist recommended a radical course of treatment: hospitalisation and ECT - electro-convulsive therapy. Desperate and willing to try anything, I decided to go for it. But with great synchronicity, on the same day I was due to undergo the ECT, I spoke to a spiritual mentor of mine. She implored me first to see a woman named Terry Rubenstein who practised something called the Three Principles of Innate Health. Terrified of the ECT and possible consequences, I agreed.

A couple of days later, I went to see Terry... and my life changed forever. All that we discussed resonated so strongly, jolting my mind with a far greater transformational shock than the ECT could ever have accomplished. Terry’s words - imbued with understanding, love and hope - pierced the layers of my habitual thinking.

I had long been convinced that I was a victim of very challenging circumstances. I just assumed there was nothing to be done about it. But talking to Terry, I discovered a whole new world of understanding. She suggested that I did not have to remain depressed indefinitely: there was a path out of my darkness.

“There is hope,” she said, “if you learn to look afresh at your experience. You are innately healthy.”

Terry explained my connection to a Universal Mind. I need not believe that my thoughts were true. I need not let them define or control me. I learned that what I thought did not have to determine my psychological experience, my state of mind. That profound insight enabled me to see the connection between thoughts and feelings.

I saw that I did not have to be held prisoner by my thoughts. I could permit my thoughts to come and go. I could lessen the attention I paid them. Whenever a depressive thought occurred, I would ask myself whether it was really true, whether it really justified the power I attached to it. This was the first step in my recovery from a chronic, debilitating, years-long depression. Within a few weeks of my initial exposure to the Principles, a light appeared at the end of the long dark tunnel.

Lying in bed one night, I experienced a remarkable moment of insight and a powerful surge of energy. Not long after, I wrote this poem in an attempt to capture the profundity and joy of that moment.

“The Missing Link”

As I lay in bed one night Reading

in the dimming light Oblivious

that very soon

I’d be dancing in my room

It hit me straight between the eyes That

consciousness does fall and rise It

became so crystal clear

That just as thoughts do appear

When they are left all alone They

depart on their own

I felt so free, in just a wink I’d

discovered the “missing link” No

more searching would I do

There is no need, I now knew

I wanted to share what I had found But

there was no one around Everyone was fast asleep

As I’d made this giant leap And

as the realization developed In love

and joy I became enveloped

I jumped out of bed at once

And my feet began to dance I

could not get myself to stop

To jump, to skip, to bounce, to hop

So I danced a merry dance

As I acquired a new stance

All the stars and the moon

Joined with me with a special tune

My life has never been the same

Since that night, when I did gain An

understanding so profound My

whole life just turned around.

The journey towards well-being had begun.

I was struck by how simple the Principles were and how effortlessly my new understanding emerged. I started to see how these same Principles could help others who were “suffering”: my children, my friends, members of my community. I was overcome with a desire to immerse myself in further learning, to bring others into this beautiful world of understanding.

Nothing has changed in my circumstances - the basic facts of my life remain. My two sons are still disabled; my parents are both gone; my situation remains very challenging. And yet my whole outlook has changed. I am living out of a completely different place, a place of well-being, love, security and confidence. Every moment is full of possibility and potential.

When I lost my temper with my husband recently, I asked him: “When I behave like this, do you not worry that I am going back to my old self?”

“Don’t be silly, Tammy,” he replied with a smile. “Your worst moments now don’t come anywhere near your best moments when you were depressed.”

His response made me realise that there really is no going back to my old self of eight years ago. That version of me was based on a misunderstanding which no longer features. Even when I struggle, and like all human beings, I do, the explanation and understanding I have is watertight.

I never did go through with the ECT. But I did have a very different version of shock treatment, via the gift of learning about the Principles. And like a prisoner released after years of captivity, the liberation of my mind completely transformed my life.

Truth as the Antidote to Misunderstanding

The momentum for learning about the Principles continued to build. And then, to our great excitement and surprise, Sydney Banks offered to visit London.

Calling, emailing and texting anyone who might be interested, I arranged a small, intimate two-day seminar at the Hendon Hall Hotel, a five minute drive from where we lived. Pictures of the triumphant England football team from the 1966 World Cup adorned the walls - this was where they had stayed en route to winning the tournament. The hotel (not to mention the players) had aged somewhat during the intervening 40 plus years, but the quiet, old-fashioned, no-frills atmosphere was perfectly suited to Syd’s gentle and insightful style.

Straight after the seminar, a piece of good fortune landed in my lap. Syd’s hosts had booked tickets to take him to the West End production of The Sound of Music. When the hosts had to cancel at the last minute, my friend Chana and I tentatively offered to stand in. I was nervous of this responsibility: we would be sharing some of London’s famous nightlife with the venerable founder of the Principles. Yet within minutes of settling into the taxi, I relaxed and ended up thoroughly enjoying Syd’s company.

During the intermission while we were waiting for our drinks, Syd turned to me and said: “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Terry, but I wrote a few books over the years to help disseminate some of my teachings. One was about a gardener and a group of psychologists. Even though it was just a made-up story, it is full of universal truths.”

Syd was referring to The Enlightened Gardener, a highly original book written in fable style about the Principles. “Of course I know about it,” I replied instantly, almost shouting to be heard over the din of the crowd.

We ended up chatting about insights I had derived from his writings, until the incessant gong sent us scurrying back to our seats for the second half of the show. And while we revelled in the uplifting songs of Maria and the Von Trapp family, I couldn’t help but reflect on the conversation. I was struck by Syd’s assumption that I may not have known of his books, most unlikely for any serious student of the Principles. The simple humility of that endearing exchange left me touched. Here was a man who had experienced many enlightened moments and had changed so many lives, yet Syd was also down-to-earth, charming and gracious. He still retained a child-like curiosity and heartfelt interest in people and the world around him.

One Sunday evening some time later, I picked up a phone message from Syd on the other side of the globe:

“Hi, Terry. I just wanted to see how you are doing? And I wanted to let you know that I will be giving formal recognition to a few select teachers of the Principles, which I have not done before. Would you be interested in coming over to the States to spend some time studying with me and other practitioners in order to receive that accreditation?”

It just wasn’t practical for me to accept the offer at the time, given the demands of my family and other matters in London. But I was moved and honoured that Syd had asked.

Sydney Banks died very soon afterwards. His death was a great loss. But it galvanised those who had benefitted from his wisdom to renew their efforts to teach and share the Principles. And I was fortunate to be part of this process in my own small way.

During this time, three very clear understandings stood out:

Firstly, the Three Principles embody truth. Crucially, an awareness of truth clears up the fundamental misunderstandings which are the root cause of human suffering.

Secondly, because truth operates at the most fundamental of levels, this paradigm could help a lot of people - and help them quickly.

Thirdly, we are designed to connect with a wellspring of insight that opens us up to a new perspective. This capacity is inherent and alive within all of us no matter what.

Like riding a bicycle, once you get the hang of it, it feels easy and natural. In my case it didn’t require going for a run, doing yoga or walking the dog to locate that innate capacity. I found it arising spontaneously, effortlessly and sometimes when I least expected it...

September, 2009

I am taking a day off to undergo a straight-forward procedure under anaesthetic in the Sunny Garden Hospital. In a strange way, I am looking forward to it. I’ll be relieved of all the usual tasks as mother, wife and working woman that fill my waking moments. The day has been blocked out - in my diary, as well as in my mind.

I’m ushered into a small pre-op room in my dressing gown, those strange back-to-front ones that always make me think they’d be better suited in a psych ward. The male nurse is fussing around, filling out reams of paperwork, wrapping that impossible-to-tear paper tag around my wrist and handling all the countless administrative tasks that keep hospital staff busy. He stops suddenly and turns to face me.

“I’m really sorry I’m ignoring you, Mrs Rubenstein. It’s just that I have these forms to sort out and all other bits and pieces to get ready. But please don’t worry. Everything will be fine and we’ll take good care of you.”

“No problem at all. You just do what you need to do,” I respond.

How sweet of him to fret that he is ignoring me. I am not worried at all but his care and concern is touching.

The anaesthetist shuffles in and starts asking me the usual questions. “Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last eight hours? Do you have any health issues we should be aware of? Have you been under anaesthetic before?”

I’ve answered these kinds of questions in the past and do so again now, dutifully. Then the doctor shifts gear:

“I hope you’re not worried about this procedure, Mrs Rubenstein. It’s all pretty run-of-the-mill. You will only be asleep for about 30 minutes at most. But is there anything you’d like to know or ask?” he asks in a gentle, soothing tone.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“That’s great. But please let me know if there is anything else we can do to make you more comfortable. And don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you here. You’re in safe hands.”

Just as a few moments earlier, I am warmed by the sensitivity, kindness and concern shown me. They are “just doing their jobs”, but all the same, I am suddenly and unexpectedly overcome by a deep and profound sense of connection with these two comparative strangers.

Leaning gently over me, I hear the anaesthetist’s soft voice: “You’ll just feel a little prick and then you can start counting down from ten. 10, 9, 8 ...”

When I awake, I am in the recovery room and my two knights in shining armour (more like green scrubs and hospital masks, but you get the picture) are both waiting to check on me. Once again I am moved by their genuine humanity and empathy. Instinctively, my whole being reverberates with a beautiful feeling towards these two strangers whose paths only crossed mine an hour before. I start to cry. My soul is touched.

When I return home, I tell my sons about this experience. I remark it was probably the most powerful sense of peace and love I have known in the last six months. Unashamedly they ask the obvious:

Why did I feel this way towards the nurse and the anaesthetist, two people whose names I don’t even know? Why can’t I show the same love towards the more obvious targets: the boys themselves; their father; other family and friends? (Or even Stuart the dog, one of them asks cheekily).

They are mature enough to hear my answer.

“My mind became really still. As I was going under and then coming out of the induced sleep, I had nothing to think about and nothing to do. I could just let myself be. And because my mind was so quiet, I touched a deep place of love, which lies beneath what we consider to be our 24/7 productive thinking. This love is unconditional because it is who we are at our essence. The kind doctor and caring nurse happened to be in the room at the moment when my mind was so still and quiet. And so, they became the natural recipients of my love.”

The boys just look at me and nod. What more could they say?

The hospital experience reaffirmed my new-found understanding of love. Love is not the personal and limiting emotion I’d once believed. And it was thrilling to see how such an extraordinary feeling was contained within the quiet of my mind.

Transformative Insight

As I taught, I found myself speaking increasingly from this feeling space. Intangible and often hidden, it is nonetheless known to the heart and soul. I observed how students and clients discovered their own answers from within their own consciousness, re-connecting with their own common sense. This allowed them to have a different perspective on their “problems”. I developed great faith in those learning with me: all I needed to do was direct them towards the Principles and they would do the rest. Truth resonates. They would uncover the potential of their own exquisite minds. They would access their own transformative insight.

The interest in what we were teaching continued to pick up speed. And then the idea emerged to hold our very own conference in the UK. This would be the first of its kind anywhere since Sydney Banks had passed away. With the support of Shaul and our very small team, but devoid of any expertise in organising such a mammoth event, I just decided to go for it.

Barely six weeks later, 140 people crammed into an improvised, subterranean lecture hall at our rented offices to attend the first Three Principles Conference. More people than ever had just gathered in one place in the UK to hear about the Principles. And many of them, as we soon discovered, were deeply affected.

“Everything we have is perfect”

Robin’s realisation

My relationship with my in-laws had deteriorated markedly, fast becoming a crisis. They were staying with us shortly after the birth of our third child. Pam, my mother-in-law, was making all kinds of demands on Shaun and me. She was constantly criticising, judging and instructing. In her eyes there was no margin for error - only huge areas for improvement.

Stress and tension simmered beneath the surface. I was walking on eggshells in my own house; I couldn’t say what I wanted at my own dinner table. And my husband Shaun was simply not handling it right. He should be doing what I thought he should be doing, not what Pam demanded. After all, I am his wife, mother of his three children. He needed to choose. And he needed to choose me.

I became obsessed with how Shaun was handling, or better yet, not handling the situation. And before long, my angry thoughts had turned in on themselves. If he was the right person for me, he would be managing the situation completely differently. I became absolutely convinced I had made a colossal mistake in marrying this man. So I gave him an ultimatum:

“If your mother isn’t gone from the house by 9 o’clock tomorrow morning, I will take the baby, call a taxi and go to see a lawyer to get a divorce!” And I wasn’t bluffing.

By 8:40 am, she was gone.

Strangely enough, I was disappointed, because my opportunity to split up had passed. Even with Pam gone, Shaun was clearly the wrong guy for me. After seven years, it was time to face reality. This whole marriage thing wasn’t going to work.

I spoke to a couple of friends and they gave me some advice: “Look, you’ve just had a baby. Why don’t you let things settle down a little? It’s not the right time to make such a big decision.”

So I decided to hang in there a bit longer, especially when I realised that Shaun was particularly good with the children, important because we had three kids under the age of five. I would stay in the marriage for their sake, at least until they were older.

Over time, I became increasingly comfortable with this new situation of living with a man who was clearly wrong for me. Shaun, for his part, wanted to stay and make the marriage work. So I settled into this strange kind of arrangement, living with a decent man and an excellent father, just not the husband I wanted.

About two years later, I received a call from a friend informing me of a first-time conference on something called Innate Health. The venue was just a few minutes’ drive from our house and I was intrigued to hear what it was all about. Even better, I saw it as an opportunity to spend two days removed from my husband and the kids. I’m going on a holiday, how fabulous, I told myself.

I was so eager to get away from my life that I was one of the first people to pitch up. Sitting on a plastic chair waiting for the first session to start was like relaxing on a sun lounger in paradise. Soon I slipped into a quiet, calm space.

Dr Aaron Turner opened the conference, introducing Dr George Pransky as the keynote speaker. Both uttered a statement I will never forget: “A person’s thinking creates his or her reality.”

It was a bolt of lightning, an epiphany.

“Oh my gosh, my thinking has created my reality,” I said to myself. “I have been making this all up. Everything. All of it! None of it is true.” I could have a totally new start; it was a clean slate.

I sat through the rest of the morning session reflecting on this revolutionary approach. And then they called for the lunch break.

I walked up the stairs, flicked on my phone and heard the familiar ping of a voice message. I saw that it was Shaun. He was sitting in the café next door to the conference venue, having come to meet me for lunch. My initial reaction was: “He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t really believe that I’m here at the conference. He’s checking to make sure I haven’t run away.”

And then I started laughing. I realised I was just making this whole story up. It was so funny because had I heard his message a few hours before, I would have gone crazy. I would have phoned him and screamed. I would have refused to meet him. In my previous twisted thinking, he would have provided me with yet another reason for splitting up.

But then I stopped and thought: How sweet, how endearing. That’s so lovely. He cares about me. He wants to see how I’m doing. He wants to see me.

It was a moment of such transformative insight, when I saw everything in a whole new light.

I walked into the café - and there he was. He stood up. I looked at him and I just fell in love all over again. Because standing in front of me was the most beautiful, wonderful human being, husband, father and friend. Everything I could possibly wish for was right there in that moment. Everything about him was perfect. Everything we had together was perfect. We sat for an hour and a half together in that nondescript café and it felt as if it was our first date, our wedding day and our honeymoon all rolled into one.

I went from wanting to divorce this man to seeing him as a completely perfect partner. I realised how blessed I was to be married to him. I had allowed an outside event - the situation with my in-laws - to completely overtake my thoughts. I’d been dismally blind to the overwhelming influence my thinking had been having on me. The Principles had opened up a whole new vista of understanding.

Six years on, I still feel the same way about Shaun as I did that day in the café. That is not to say my state of mind is always good, not by a long shot. But what is incredible now is that when I am annoyed at Shaun or start ranting, I understand the source of my feelings. It is just my thinking; nothing more. I realise I have disconnected myself and have dropped into a lower level of consciousness. And Shaun himself knows not to take notice of me in those moments.

That understanding is my comfort blanket, reassuring me that everything will be fine. And everything absolutely is.

“When our thoughts look real, we live in a world of suffering. When they look subjective, we live in a world of choice. When they look arbitrary, we live in a world of possibility. And when we see them as illusory, we wake up inside a world of dreams.”

Michael Neill, The Inside-out Revolution

5.

Living Life from the Inside-Out

May, 2010

The woman in the third row, a vibrant, smartly dressed lady named Nina, is becoming increasingly agitated. She wants answers different to the ones I am offering.

“But I don’t understand what you are saying,” she declares again.

“My sister-in-law really let me down. And not for the first time. I told her that this was meant to be a family holiday for us all - we had discussed it at length. And they had agreed. Then she suddenly tells me they’ve arranged something else. And now I’m stuck with this booking and two extra units we’ve already paid for. So I am supposed to just accept it, let her mess me around, as she has done so many times before?”

I glance around the room at the 50-or-so women sitting on the red padded conference chairs attending our two-day seminar. The first Three Principles Conference had succeeded in informing a wider group of people about the existence of the Principles, so we had turned our attention to another challenge: extending the experience for those interested in further learning.

Having decided to experiment with a women’s only seminar, we were quickly over-subscribed. Other than gender they share little in common, ranging in age from 22 to 72 and representing a cross section of the community: a small cadre of school teachers, a headmistress, two clinical psychologists, a GP, the head of a local charity and three or four businesswomen. Others are full time mothers juggling child-care responsibilities; a few are at crossroads in their relationships or career choices; there are even a couple of grandmothers in various stages of retirement from mothering, working or both.

Many of the ladies are nodding along with Nina. Not all have difficult sisters-in-law with a propensity for messing up meticulously arranged family holidays but they do have husbands, partners, children, bosses, colleagues, mothers and friends who seem to give them a hard time in one way or another. All have some experience of feeling “victimised” by people and circumstances beyond their control. They are convinced that this is what causes endless frustration, hurt, anger, grief-in fact, a range of emotions.

My role is to offer Nina and the others a different paradigm to frame their experiences. And so, I begin to teach...

Innocent Effects of our Thinking

I only have my own understanding, which is not truth; it’s just my version of truth so I don’t want you to cling to it. But I do want you to sense the direction in which we are heading. Our “felt” experience of life originates from a different place than I had always assumed. It originates within our own thinking minds. I used to believe it was derived independently of me - from family, friends, work and circumstances - all restricting factors. But now I know that the potential for psychological freedom is much more than I ever imagined.

Why? Because it derives from a place Sydney Banks calls Divine Mind. It is rooted in the most fundamental, spiritual and universal place. This place is not limited: it is infinitely wise. From this perpetual wellspring anything may arise and be created within your own thinking mind.

For most of us it doesn’t appear that way. For the first 30 years of my life I also lacked this understanding. The world we are interacting with is vibrant and compelling, whilst the world of Mind, Consciousness and Thought is totally invisible. So it makes sense that we overlook these fundamental elements. Our experience of life seems to be set in stone, unchangeable and immutable. It feels as if the best we can do is to “think positively”. Or, to put it another way, to improve our perceptions of ourselves and our lives, we must change or reframe our thinking.

This is a misunderstanding of the nature of human experience. Contrary to popular belief, we do not experience a reality that is independently out there.

Instead, we experience a reality which reflects our own minds in the moment. The Principles of Mind, Consciousness and Thought point us towards the source of our moment-to-moment experience.

Nina is looking at me as if I am an alien from another planet. She has just exploded with frustration and here I am suggesting that the beliefs she has always held about her psyche may be viewed in a completely different light. But that’s OK. I am challenging her understanding of the world. We’ve got three days together and there is no rush, so I press ahead gently.

As always, I am sharing with you something that I have learned myself: the truth of the inside-out nature of life. But don’t imagine I’ve got it down perfectly myself. I still struggle at times to see that my feelings derive from my thinking in the moment and not from my circumstances or from other people. I do have moments, many moments, when I forget or lose myself in seeing the world from the outside-in. And boy, do I feel victimised when that happens.

But the fundamental truth I have learned is this: whatever I am feeling is always a direct result of what I am thinking at any given moment.

I know that neither the circumstances of my life, nor the people around me, are able to influence how I feel. And yet, they often seem to do exactly that. How is this possible? Ask yourself why it is that when you engage with certain people in your life, you inadvertently find yourself playing the same old record?

I sense that Nina - along with many of the others - have entered into a deeper listening mode. The explanation of how experience works seems to settle the room down.

Let me tell you what I discovered recently from a relationship in my own life. I have a friend - let’s call her Miya - who, for many years, seemed to trigger uncomfortable feelings for me. Or at least that’s the way I perceived it. Whenever we interacted, I felt as if she was trying to put me down by noting how perfect her life was - in contrast to mine. I knew she was not doing this intentionally. Certainly she is a great mother and wife, as well as a kind, caring, giving person. But every time we spoke, I was left with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was as if I was still in high school competing with other girls as to who was prettier, thinner and more popular.

Although Miya and I were good friends, our interactions bothered me. I had a need to maintain an emotional distance. Yet this didn’t sit well with me. Why? Because I knew that the feelings I felt in Miya’s presence could not come from her or from anyone else for that matter. They could only come from Thought. Thought is always the only source.

During this period, I was working with a client who was having a similarly frustrating relationship with a close friend of hers. I shared with her the inside-out nature of experience: how her feelings were always the manifestation of her thinking in the moment and how understanding the nature of Thought was the key to creating a different dynamic with her friend.

While I was sharing this perspective with my client, the learning reversed and turned in on me. Miya was someone I was fond of and admired. Yet our relationship seemed to invoke uncomfortable feelings in me. But based on my understanding of the Principles - which I was sharing with my own client - I realised our friendship could take a very different course.

I knew that my experience of the relationship was being formed via my own thinking mind. This was the only possible way for it to form. So I stepped back from my own thinking. Instantly a flood of new thought washed over me. I became filled with understanding, compassion and empathy.

Everything changed after that, at least for me. I felt differently about Miya because I was thinking differently about her. No other reason. It’s the way it works.

How powerful is that? Miya was probably behaving in the same way and saying the same things. But I was having a different experience of her. Because I had been gifted to see once again that there was nothing limiting my experience but my own misunderstanding of where it was coming from.

I am quiet for a long moment as my words drift over the group and settle. There is a soft, warm, connecting atmosphere in the hall. I hear the gentle whir of the air-conditioning unit but otherwise all is quiet. Nobody asks any questions or offers any comments. I absorb the collective consciousness and my senses come alive. It is moments like this when I love my work so much.

Yes, Nina, it would appear as if your sister-in-law is limiting your capacity for joy and a wonderful vacation. But if you look behind the veil of your perceptions, you will always find it is your thinking which brings your senses to life. Your thinking informs you. It creates your feelings towards your sister-in-law in any given moment. Once you know this, you can cut the umbilical cord of your experience which was mistakenly tied to someone else. It gives you back your freedom, allowing you to see life with a fresh perspective, again and again and again.

I have observed my thinking and feelings for almost a decade and here’s what I have come to appreciate: we react unawares to Thought - and then blame others for our reactions:

Thought and feeling show up so quickly and seamlessly that it looks as if we never actually thought our reality, but merely participated as innocent bystanders.

If we are willing to look beyond what appears real, we will see the creative intelligence that manifests as Thought creating our moment-to-moment reality in nanoseconds.

I pause again, allowing the group to absorb all that we have been discussing, before gently directing my gaze back towards Nina.

At the same time, you will continue to realise that you are not a victim of challenging individuals. Instead, you will experience psychological freedom as you begin to discover that Thought is infinite and neutral. The free flow of thinking is endless. There is no limit to how creative it can be.

I look up at the clock on the back wall and notice we are close to our anticipated end time. I don’t have anything more to offer right now. And Nina and the rest of the group seem to have absorbed enough for the day.

Separate Realities

Towards mid-afternoon on the second day, Sharon, a slightly older woman from South London who had attended a couple of my previous talks, cannot contain herself any longer.

“Terry, I am definitely beginning to see the impact of my own mind on all aspects of my life. But something is still jarring for me. Let me tell you what I have to deal with on an almost daily basis. My eighteen-year-old son won’t listen to what either his father or I say to him. He won’t help, and completely does his own thing. It sets a bad example for the younger ones. We want him to appreciate that he is part of a family, part of a system. This isn’t an unreasonable expectation. But he’s just not prepared to play ball. So I’d appreciate some specific advice how to handle my son. It’s all good and well to say the issues with him are coming from the inside-out but how is this of any practical help? It’s all a bit vague to me.”

I understand what Sharon is grappling with. Intellectually she grasps the logic that the frustration with her son is coming from within. But it hasn’t landed as a true insight for her. So it doesn’t look practical.

I know you’d like me to offer some prescriptive guidance, Sharon. But I’m going to stick with what we’ve been talking about. An understanding of the Principles always offers us the pathway. It allows us to step back from our specific situations in order to derive the insight regarding what is really going on - for your son and for yourself. The key issue to consider is this: who is playing the lead role in your relationship? If it is still your son who is dictating the nature of your response, then it’s always going to be an outside-in experience. And that will inevitably feel limiting, if not infuriating.

Casting my eyes around the room, I notice that the ladies are engaged and connected. Clearly this conversation strikes a chord, though I sense that a specific example from my own life will help further. But before I have the chance, a familiar voice calls out from the third row.

“I get it!” Nina exclaims. “I’ve been thinking it over since our discussion yesterday morning. For all this time I’ve been holding onto resentment towards my sister-in-law because she messed up our holiday plans - or at least that was my perception. But I see now that I gain nothing from holding on to these thoughts. I just end up suffering the feelings that come with them. It’s pointless. I’m clinging to a misunderstanding that is not serving me at all. I had assumed my reaction was appropriate and justified but that’s ridiculous! It will be fascinating to see what emerges for me now that my resentment no longer makes any sense.”

Nina is seated on the edge of her chair, an animated grin spread across her face. I am used to “pop-up” teachers appearing unannounced in my classes. Inspired by their own insight, they can’t resist sharing in the spur of the moment. And in this instant, Nina is spot on.

The other ladies appear intrigued that Nina has had such a quick and spontaneous turnaround. She has stepped away from her previously held beliefs and has seen something that now makes more sense to her. I have no doubt that the ripples of this insight will continue to serve her in many areas of her life.

Thanks, Nina, that’s really helpful. Let me share something I’ve learned from my relationship with my own parents. I’m not sure when it all began, but I had expectations of my parents for the longest time. I guess we all do, inevitably failing to see that these expectations are created through Thought. My parents, of course, had no idea what these expectations were. And even if I could have expressed them openly, it’s highly unlikely they had the wherewithal to meet them. They were doing their best, just as I do my best to parent my own children.

Since my early teens, my parents did not seem to understand my inner world and the issues with which I was struggling. So I convinced myself that I could not look to them for the advice and direction which I believed was their duty to provide. Later, when I had emigrated and was married with children, I held on to this conviction. Yes, they were always supportive and loving, but I craved more. When it was not forthcoming, I ended up constantly disappointed that they could not live up to my expectations.

Because we were living overseas, my mother would come to visit - quite frequently, in fact. But she could not provide the kind of mothering and grandmothering I wanted. I expected her to be more helpful with the kids and take over in the house so I could relax and have a desperately needed break. I harboured all kinds of thoughts and judgements about my mom enjoying an easier life while I was having a tougher time. I appreciated she was good at listening and empathising but it wasn’t enough. I wanted direction, resourcefulness, and hands-on help. But that was simply not her way.

I scan the room, observing in the eyes of my audience recognition and understanding. Mothers, daughters, wives, sisters and friends: they all know what it feels like to have expectations unmet. They know that fortress and how impenetrable it can appear.

Eventually a time came when I was gifted a higher state of consciousness, allowing me to view my parents through different eyes. My parents, I came to appreciate, were genuinely doing the best they could. By now I was 30 years old, but for the first time I was able to love and accept my parents unconditionally. My expectations fell away because thought just dissolves in a higher place of consciousness. If we see life only through our own prism, we have nothing else to guide us but a narrow perspective at a particular juncture.

We cannot do better than the thinking that looks true to us in any given moment. When we arrive at this understanding, our thinking shifts and our unmet expectations of ourselves and others melt away. It leads to a completely different dynamic.

The next time my mother came to visit, I was grateful to relate to her just the way she was. That allowed me to enjoy her without judgement. Similarly with my father. I gave him the freedom - inside my mind - to let him be who he was. Any prior expectations became irrelevant. I placed no demands on them. And I saw that they in no way reduced nor limited my ability to feel joyful, to be connected to life, and to feel love towards them.

My expectations were a product of my own thinking. Once I grasped this, it automatically changed the dynamic between us. This recognition was truly freeing. My parents never changed but my thinking about them did. And so my feeling and experience of them did as well.

When my mind was finally unshackled, I understood that any perceived “lack” in my parents was actually my biggest blessing. My parents didn’t give me the answers I was seeking because they were not meant to provide them. Since I was not receiving what I believed I needed, I had to rely on my own inner knowing. This is where wisdom truly lies.

An atmosphere of insight and learning permeates the room. As our time together draws to a close, I am, as always, more interested in our feeling, than the content of our discussion.

I know you were hoping for some specific advice, Sharon, but understanding how Thought works always explains our experience.

It points to the fact that separate realities exist for each of us. This awareness lies at the heart of understanding our relationships.

Not knowing this creates most - if not all - of the misunderstandings and conflicts in our personal lives and beyond, right up to a global scale. It is one of the core tenets of spiritual and psychological engineering.

When we see that every human being is living from their own creation of Thought, we begin to appreciate how it is impossible to expect others to see the world as we do.

In respecting another person’s freedom to see life through their own lens, we realise that it is not only their right, but it is how they were designed and created.

Recognising the truth of separate realities leads us to greater tolerance, acceptance and compassion for our differences. It enables us to reach out, connect and become deeply curious. It facilitates listening intently to others in order to understand their perspective. It gives us a porthole for relating to their reality.

When we appreciate that expectations - no matter how well-founded they may seem - are merely our own thought creations, it frees us to have a different experience of all our relationships. And with that understanding, you won’t be looking for prescriptive guidance because you will know what to do and how to be.

How does that sound to you, Sharon? Does it resonate?

“Yes, it does,” Sharon responds immediately. “I mean, I can see for the first time the role I’m playing in the dynamic with my son. I’d never thought of it like that before. It won’t necessarily be easy, but I’d like to try and do things differently starting with recognising how unhelpful my expectations are of him. And I see even more clearly now how my frustration is not coming from him but from me. I can still establish boundaries and educate him. But it’s helpful to notice how my upset feeling is coming from Thought - and not from any other source. And you’re right, Terry. I do know what to do. After all, he’s my son and I love him.”

I have nothing to add to Sharon’s insight. It is time to wrap up.

Before we finish, let me say that understanding the inside-out nature of life is not a technique. It is not a catchy version of positive thinking.

This paradigm is an explanation of the fundamental workings of the mind and the way we experience our entire mental world. Everything we go through can be seen through this understanding: suffering, love, joy, disappointment, stress - you name it.

So the difference between understanding and misunderstanding is enormous. Unless we educate ourselves in the right paradigm, we will constantly feel like a caged bird banging against the bars with no escape. The truth does indeed set you free.

Searching In The Wrong Place

This is the most common request from those who come to learn: “Tell me what it is and how to do it?” By that they mean: “How do I change my experience; how do I achieve a better, happier state of mind?”

There is no doubt that many are desperate for answers. In a world that is often perplexing and uncomfortable, at times even overwhelming and hostile, people wish to escape stress, anxiety and discomfort. But then they discover that the Principles fail to focus satisfactorily on their specific issues.

What they do learn are answers to something else, something unexpected, something fundamental: How does our experience of life work? Where does our thinking come from? What, essentially, is Thought? What determines our state of mind? What are the universal truths that we all share?

And as they develop their own insights around these crucial questions, they often experience a profound shift in their entire psychological, emotional and spiritual experience.

It’s strange how we get drawn into the details and lose sight of the bigger picture. As people learn about the Principles, that bigger picture emerges, and then they are able to fill in the details for themselves. It’s a bit like when you figure out the borders on a jigsaw puzzle and suddenly the rest of the puzzle falls into place.

Our students and clients come to see that the “answer” they are looking for is not outside of them. It is not an external, elusive, mysterious wisdom that necessitates a great investment of time and effort. It doesn’t require a huge intellect, a university degree, a history of personal anguish, years of learning or an entire lifetime of experience.

Psychological well-being is innate. And learning insightfully is natural to all human beings. This is the direction in which the mind flows naturally, like a river flowing with the current. These are the simple laws of the universe.

Deeper knowledge allows people to encounter their own purity of mind. As this occurs, they come to understand that there is nothing to be done. This is a learning of seeing, not doing: just like an “aha” moment when everything falls into place. This is what real insight is.

For too long we have sold our souls when it comes to really learning and thinking for ourselves. In our contemporary culture, many of us seek a “how to” approach towards our mental well-being. We believe the myth that so-called experts have the answers and it is up to them to tell us what to do. Many of us end up disillusioned; we try and search and persevere and read and listen - and yet still we do not find the answers we are seeking.

But that is because we are naively searching in the wrong place. In a world of information overload, we are accustomed to grabbing bits and pieces of advice from many sources. We then attempt to cobble them all together, hoping they will translate into specific changes in our habits and behaviours.

Every time I glimpse the bigger picture or the oneness of life, the “what” and “how” questions become redundant. When I lose myself in the fragmentation of my analytic mind and the tangled web of my thoughts, I search fruitlessly for answers to fix my inner and outer worlds. But when I descend into the space of truth, which lies beyond any fragmentation of thought and form, everything emerges effortlessly. There is a perfect unfolding, without judgement, without confusion and without distress. The whole is indeed greater than the sum of its parts. You simply cannot understand or grasp the separate parts without seeing everything in the context of the whole.

Mind, Consciousness and Thought provide us with the simplest gateway to glimpse the whole. This is ultimately where answers arise and clarity dawns. Rather than going after answers like a child chasing an elusive butterfly, they will find us if we quiet down enough to let that happen.

And when they do, when that beautiful butterfly lands gently on our hearts and souls, this wonderful world lived from the inside-out will never look more divine.

2 In Part I, I shared my story as a gateway for understanding what I had been through and begun to learn. Now, Part II enters into the heart of explaining how my transformation occurred and how life is created at its very essence for all human beings. It focuses on the simple but profound principles at the very core of our psychological and spiritual functioning. The orientation is less one of storytelling and more weighted towards learning. My advice is to be patient, pause to reflect and read over certain passages again if you think that might be helpful. Each chapter is designed to build on the previous one, weaving a tapestry that will hopefully emerge fully as you read, absorb and arrive at your own insights.

3 Whenever the terms Mind, Conscious and Thought are used in reference to the Principles, they will be capitalised. This distinguishes between the Principle of Thought, for example, and the continuous thinking that we experience in our minds.

4 Eric’s story and the other first person “narratives of transformation” that appear later are all true accounts based on in-depth interviews (only names and minor details have been changed). The subjects and their experiences are known to the author through her work, either as clients of herself or of colleagues.