11.
Doing The Work
on the Body and Addictions
Bodies don’t think, care, or have any problem with themselves. They never beat themselves up or shame themselves. They simply try to keep themselves balanced and to heal themselves. They are entirely efficient, intelligent, kind, and resourceful. Where there’s no thought, there’s no problem. It’s the story we believe, prior to investigation, that leaves us confused. My pain can’t be my body’s fault. I tell the story of my body, and because I haven’t inquired, I believe that my body is the problem and that if only this or that changed, I would be happy.
The body is never our problem. Our problem is always a thought that we innocently believe. The Work deals with our thinking, not with the object that we think we’re addicted to. There is no such thing as an addiction to an object; there is only an attachment to the uninvestigated concept arising in the moment.
For example, I don’t care if I smoke or if I don’t smoke; it’s not about a right or a wrong for me. I smoked heavily, even chain-smoked, for many years. Then, in 1986, after the experience in the halfway house, all at once it was over. When I went to Turkey in 1997, I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in eleven years. I got into a taxi, and the driver had some wild Turkish music playing on his radio very loud, and he was honking constantly (honking is what they do there, it’s the sound of God, and the two lanes are really six lanes merging, and everyone drives around honking at one another, and it’s all happening in a perfect flow), and he turned around and with a big smile offered me a cigarette. I didn’t think twice. I took it, and he lit a match for me. The music was going full blast, the horns were going full blast, and I sat in the backseat, smoking and loving each moment. It’s okay if I do smoke, I noticed, and it’s okay if I don’t, and I notice that I haven’t smoked since that one wonderful taxi ride.
But here’s addiction: A concept arises that says that I should or I shouldn’t smoke, I believe it, and I move from the reality of the present. Without inquiry, we believe thoughts that aren’t true for us, and these thoughts are the reasons that we smoke or drink. Who would you be without your “should” or “shouldn’t”?
If you think that alcohol makes you sick or confused or angry, then when you drink it, it’s as if you are drinking your own disease. You’re meeting alcohol where it is, and it does exactly what you know it will do. So we investigate the thinking, not in order to stop drinking, but simply to end any confusion about what alcohol will do. And if you believe that you really want to keep drinking, just notice what it does to you. There’s no pity in it. There’s no victim in it. And eventually there’s no fun in it—only a hangover.
If my body gets sick, I go to the doctor. My body is his business. My thinking is my business, and in the peace of that, I’m very clear about what to do and where to go. And then the body becomes a lot of fun, because you’re not invested in whether it lives or dies. It’s a projected image, a metaphor of your thinking, mirrored back to you.
On one occasion in 1986, while I was getting a massage, I began to experience a sudden paralysis. It was as if all the ligaments, tendons, and muscles had tightened to an extreme. It was like rigor mortis; I couldn’t make even the slightest movement. Throughout the experience, I was perfectly calm and joyful, because I didn’t have a story that the body should look a certain way or move fluidly. Thoughts moved through, like “Oh my God, I can’t move. Something terrible is happening.” But the inquiry that was alive within me wouldn’t allow any attachment to these thoughts. If that process were slowed down and given words, it would sound like this: “’You’re never going to be able to walk again’—sweetheart, can you really know that that’s true?” They’re so fast, these four questions. Eventually, they meet a thought at the instant of its arising. At some point, after about an hour, the body began to relax and go back to what people would call its normal state.
An Unhealthy Heart?
How do you live when you believe the thought that your body should be different? How does that feel? “I’ll be happy later, when my body is healed.” “I should be thinner, healthier, prettier, younger.” This is a very old religion. If I think my body should be different from what it is now, I’m out of my business. I’m out of my mind!
I’m not asking you to let go of your body, as if such a thing were possible. I’m asking you to own your body, to care for it, to take a look at your beliefs about it, to put them on paper, inquire, and turn them around.
Harriet: I’m angry at my heart because it is diseased and weak. It restricts all my physical activities, and I could easily die at any time.
Katie: Is it true that your heart is diseased and weak?
Harriet: Well, yes, it’s hereditary. Both my parents and three grandparents died of heart disease.
Katie: Your parents had heart disease, and it sounds as though you’ve inherited a belief system that terrifies you. The doctors have told you that you have heart disease. And I’m inviting you to ask yourself today, “Can you really know that it’s true?”
Harriet: Well . . . no. I can’t really know that. It could have changed in the last four minutes.
Katie: That’s right. We can’t ever really know. How do I know that my heart should be like this? That’s the way it is. Reality always shows me. How do you react when you believe the thought that your heart is diseased and weak?
Harriet: I get frightened. I limit my activities. I stay inside and become very inactive. I get depressed that I can’t do what I want to do. I imagine the pain and terror of a heart attack. I feel hopeless.
Katie: The result is that you stay focused on the hopelessness and don’t look at your thinking. That’s where the fear comes from—from your uninvestigated thoughts. As long as you see your heart as the problem and look outside your own mind for solutions, you can’t know anything but fear. Who or what would you be if you never had the thought that your heart is diseased and weak?
Harriet: I think I’d be more peaceful and also freer to do what I want to do.
Katie: Let’s turn around what you wrote, replacing the word heart with “thinking.”
Harriet: I’m angry at my thinking because it is diseased and weak.
Katie: Your mind is diseased and weak when it names your heart as the problem. You’re quite insane in that moment. Your mind is diseased when you believe that your heart isn’t exactly as it should be now. How do you know that? If you have one belief that opposes what is, you feel out of harmony and your heart begins to race. Your body is the loving reflection of your mind. Until you understand that, your heart will continue to be your teacher, always showing you the kinder way. Read your next statement.
Harriet: I want my heart to be healed completely.
Katie: Is that true? Is that really true?
Harriet: What a question! [Pause] Hmmm.
Katie: Interesting, isn’t it? Can you absolutely know that your heart needs to heal completely?
Harriet: It sure seems that way. [Pause] No, I can’t absolutely know that.
Katie: How do you react when you believe the thought that your heart isn’t normal for you and needs to be healed?
Harriet: I think about it all the time. I think about dying, and I scare myself. I try to consider all the medical options and natural healing options, and I get really confused. I’m desperate to figure it out, and I can’t.
Katie: Who or what would you be without the story “I want my heart to be healed completely”?
Harriet: I would just be living my life. I wouldn’t be so afraid. I’d be more present when my doctor is talking to me. I see myself just enjoying what I’m doing, whether I’m active or not. And I wouldn’t be so focused on the future, on dying.
Katie: That makes sense to me. Let’s turn it around.
Harriet: I want my thinking to be healed completely.
Katie: Isn’t that as true or truer? We’ve been attempting to heal bodies for thousands of years, and they still get sick and old, and they die. Bodies come to pass, not to stay. No body has ever been healed ultimately. There is only the mind to heal if it’s peace that you want, whether you’re sick or well. Read the next statement.
Harriet: My heart is weak, diseased, not dependable, restrictive, confining, and prone to pain.
Katie: Is that true?
Harriet: No, not really. It’s just as true to say my mind is weak, diseased, not dependable, restrictive, confining, and prone to pain when it sees my heart as that.
Katie: How does it feel when you think that your heart is insufficient? Everyone’s heart is perfect as it is right now. Everyone’s heart should be exactly as healthy as it is now—even someone whose heart is stopping.
Harriet: If I think my heart is perfect and I have pain, will I still take action?
Katie: Absolutely. I call it doing the dishes and loving it. When you have some understanding of your thoughts through inquiry, then you can call 911 consciously, without fear or panic. You’re more able to describe your situation and answer questions clearly. You’ve always known what to do; that doesn’t change. Let’s look at the next statement.
Harriet: I am not willing to give up on my heart or let it cease to function or preclude my living a normal, active life.
Katie: Yes, you are, sweetheart. If your heart stops, you die. Dying, like everything else, isn’t a choice, even though it can appear that way. Can you see a way to turn that last one around?
Harriet: I am willing to give up on my heart.
Katie: Good for you! Give up on your heart. Turn that over to your doctor. Work with your thinking. That’s where it will count. Your heart will love you for it. Continue with the turnaround.
Harriet: I am willing to let it cease to function. I am willing to let my heart preclude my living a normal life.
Katie: Now read these last statements again. Read each one as “I look forward to.”
Harriet: I look forward to giving up on my heart. I look forward to letting my heart cease to function. I look forward to letting it preclude me from living a normal life.
Katie: Sounds like freedom to me. Follow your doctor’s advice and watch what happens from a sane and loving position. Eventually, you may come to know that your body is not your business, it’s your doctor’s business. The only thing for you to heal is an erroneous belief appearing now. Thank you, sweetheart.
My Daughter’s Addiction
I have worked with hundreds of alcoholics, and I’ve always found that they were drunk with their thinking before they were drunk with their drinking. Many of them have told me that The Work includes all the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. For example, it gives a very clear form to the fourth and fifth steps—“taking a fearless inventory of ourselves, and admitting the exact nature of our wrongs”—that thousands have wanted to do and haven’t known how to.
“Don’t necessarily do The Work on drinking,” I tell them. “Go back to the thought just prior to the thought that you need a drink, and do The Work on that, on that man or woman again, on that situation. The prior thought is what you’re trying to shut down with alcohol. Apply The Work to that. Your uninvestigated thinking is the problem, not alcohol. Alcohol is honest and true: It promises to get you drunk, and it does; it promises to make things worse, and it does. It’s always true to its word. It’s a great teacher of integrity. It doesn’t say, ‘Drink me.’ It just sits there, true to itself, being what it is and waiting to do its job.
“Do The Work on these thoughts and also go to twelve-step meetings; give away your experience and strength at meetings so that you can hear it yourself. You are always the one you’re working with. It’s your truth, not ours, that will set you free.”
When my own daughter, Roxann, was sixteen, she drank very heavily and also did drugs. This had begun to happen before I woke up with the questions in 1986, but I was so depressed then that I was totally unaware of it. After inquiry was alive in me, though, I began to notice her actions as well as my thoughts about them.
She used to drive off every night in her new red Camaro. If I asked her where she was going, she would give me a furious look and slam the door on her way out. It was a look I understood well. I’d taught her to see me that way. I myself had worn that look on my face for many years.
Through inquiry, I learned to become very quiet around her, around everyone. I learned how to be a listener. I would often sit and wait up for her far past midnight, for the pure privilege of seeing her—just for that privilege. I knew she was drinking, and I knew I couldn’t do a thing about it. The thoughts that would appear in my mind were thoughts like these: “She’s probably drunk and driving, and she’ll be killed in a crash, and I’ll never see her again. I’m her mother, I bought her the car, I’m responsible. I should take her car from her (but it wasn’t mine to take; I’d given it to her; it was hers), she’ll drive while she’s drunk, and she’ll kill someone, she’ll crash into another car or drive into a lamppost and kill herself and her passengers.” As the thoughts appeared, each one would be met with wordless, thoughtless inquiry. And inquiry instantly brought me back to reality. Here is what was true: woman sitting in chair waiting for her beloved daughter.
One evening, after being gone for a three-day weekend, Roxann came through the door with a look of great misery on her face and, it seemed to me, without any defenses. She saw me sitting there, and she just fell into my arms and said, “Mom, I can’t do this anymore. Please help me. Whatever this thing is that you’re giving to all these people who come to our house, I want it.” So we did The Work. That was the last time she did alcohol or drugs. Whenever she had a problem after that, she didn’t need to drink or drug, and she didn’t need me. She just wrote the problem down, asked four questions, and turned it around.
When there’s peace here, there’s peace there. To have a way to see beyond the illusion of suffering is the greatest gift. I love that all my children have taken advantage of it.
Charlotte: I’m afraid of my daughter’s drug addiction because it’s killing her.
Katie: Can you absolutely know that that’s true? And I’m not saying that it’s not. This is just a question. “Her drug addiction is killing her”—can you absolutely know that that’s true?
Charlotte: No.
Katie: How do you react when you think the thought “Her drug addiction is killing her”?
Charlotte: I get very angry.
Katie: And what do you say to her? What do you do?
Charlotte: I judge her, and I push her away. I’m afraid of her. I don’t want her around.
Katie: Who would you be, in the presence of your daughter, without the thought “Her drug addiction is killing her”?
Charlotte: I’d be more relaxed, and I’d be more myself, and less mean to her, less reactive.
Katie: When this Work found me, my daughter was, in her words, an alcoholic and doing drugs. And the questions were alive in me. “Her addiction is killing her”—can I absolutely know that that’s true? No. And who would I be without this story? I would be totally there for her, loving her with all my heart, as long as she lasts. Maybe she’ll die tomorrow of an overdose, but she’s in my arms now. How do you treat her when you think the thought “Her drug addiction is killing her”?
Charlotte: I don’t want to see her. I don’t want her around.
Katie: That’s fear, and fear is what we experience when we’re attached to the nightmare. “Drug addiction is killing her”—turn it around. When you’re turning around an issue like drugs, put the words “my thinking” in place of the issue. “My thinking . . .”
Charlotte: My thinking is killing her.
Katie: There’s another turnaround. “My thinking is . . .”
Charlotte: Killing me.
Katie: Yes.
Charlotte: It’s killing our relationship.
Katie: She’s dying of a drug overdose, and you’re dying of a thinking overdose. She could last a lot longer than you.
Charlotte: Yes, that’s true. The stress is really wearing me down.
Katie: She’s stoned, you’re stoned. I’ve been through this one.
Charlotte: Yeah, I get really toxic when it comes up in my face again that she’s using drugs.
Katie: “She’s using”—turn it around.
Charlotte: I’m using?
Katie: Yes, you’re using her to stay toxic. She uses drugs, you use her—what’s the difference?
Charlotte: Hmm.
Katie: Let’s look at your next statement.
Charlotte: I’m angry and saddened by Linda’s drug addiction because I feel that it’s endangering my granddaughter Debbie’s life.
Katie: So you think that something will happen, and your granddaughter will die.
Charlotte: Or be molested or . . .
Katie: So because of your daughter’s addiction, something terrible can happen to your granddaughter.
Charlotte: Yeah.
Katie: Is that true? And I’m not saying it’s not true. These are just questions; there’s no motive here. This is about the end of your suffering. Can you absolutely know that that’s true?
Charlotte: No. I can’t know that.
Katie: How do you react when you think that thought?
Charlotte: Well, I’ve been crying for most of the last two days. I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. I’ve been feeling terror.
Katie: Give me a stress-free reason to believe this.
Charlotte: There is none.
Katie: “My daughter’s drug addiction is endangering my granddaughter’s life”—turn it around. “My thinking addiction . . .”
Charlotte: My thinking addiction is endangering my life. Yeah. I can see that. That’s true.
Katie: Now read it saying, “My drug addiction . . .”
Charlotte: My drug addiction is endangering my life?
Katie: Yes, and your drug addiction is her.
Charlotte: Oh. Well, I can see that. My drug addiction is her. I’m so much in her business.
Katie: That’s it. She’s addicted to drugs, and you’re addicted to mentally running her life. She’s your drug.
Charlotte: Okay.
Katie: It’s insane to mentally be in my children’s business.
Charlotte: Even with the baby?
Katie: “She should take care of the baby”—turn it around.
Charlotte: I should take care of the baby?
Katie: Yes. You do it.
Charlotte: Oh God! I should do that?
Katie: What do you think? According to you, she’s not available.
Charlotte: Well, I’m already raising three of my other daughter’s babies from birth, so . . .
Katie: Well, raise four, raise five, raise a thousand. There are children hungry all over the world! What are you doing sitting here?
Charlotte: I guess my question about that is if I raise the child for her, then I’m enabling her to use drugs. I could be the one to kill her.
Katie: So taking care of the baby is a problem for you? It’s the same way for her. This just puts us in a place of humility. Are you doing the best you can?
Charlotte: Yes.
Katie: I believe you. When you think, “My daughter should do something about it,” turn it around. “I should do something about it.” And if you can’t, you’re just like your daughter. When she says, “I can’t,” you can understand. But when you get furious at her, because you haven’t investigated your own thinking, you’re both stoned, and you teach your daughter craziness.
Charlotte: Ah.
Katie: “Drug addiction is endangering Debbie’s life”—turn it around.
Charlotte: My thinking about Linda’s drug addiction is endangering my life.
Katie: Yes.
Charlotte: That’s absolutely true.
Katie: Whose business is her drug addiction?
Charlotte: Hers.
Katie: Whose business is your drug addiction?
Charlotte: Mine.
Katie: Take care of that. Let’s look at the next one.
Charlotte: My daughter’s drug addiction is ruining her life.
Katie: Can you absolutely know that it’s true that your daughter’s drug addiction is ruining her life in the long run?
Charlotte: No.
Katie: It all begins to make sense. I love that you answered that question. What I found when I did The Work on my daughter in 1986 was that I had to go deep to find the same thing. And it turned out that because of that addiction, her life today is very rich. The bottom line is that I just can’t know anything. I watch the way things are in reality. This leaves me in a position to act sanely and lovingly, and life is always perfectly beautiful. And if she died, I’d still be able to see that. But I can’t fool myself. I really have to know the truth. If this path were your only way to God, would you choose it?
Charlotte: Yes.
Katie: Well, that seems to be the case. No mistake. We’ve been daughter-realized forever; now let’s be self-realized. Read the statement again.
Charlotte: My daughter’s drug addiction is ruining her life.
Katie: How do you react when you think that thought?
Charlotte: I feel hopeless.
Katie: And how do you live when you feel hopeless?
Charlotte: I don’t live at all.
Katie: Can you see a reason to drop this thought?
Charlotte: Yes.
Katie: Who would you be, living your life, without this thought?
Charlotte: Well, I’d certainly be a better mother.
Katie: Good. You’re the expert, and here’s what I’m learning from you. With the thought, suffering; without the thought, no suffering and you’d be a better mother. So what does your daughter have to do with your problem? Zero. If you think that your daughter is your problem, welcome to The Work. Your daughter is the perfect daughter for you, because she’s going to bring up every uninvestigated concept you have until you get a clue about reality. That’s her job. Everything has its job. This candle’s job is to burn, this rose’s job is to blossom, your daughter’s job is to use drugs, my job is to drink my tea now. [Takes a sip of tea] And when you understand, she’ll follow you, she’ll understand. It’s a law, because she’s your projection. When you move into the polarity of truth, so will she. Hell here, hell there. Peace here, peace there. Let’s look at the next one.
Charlotte: It almost seems silly now. Should I read what I wrote anyway?
Katie: You may as well. Thought appears.
Charlotte: I’m angry, confused, saddened, and afraid—all of it—at my daughter Linda’s drug addiction because it brings me excruciating pain.
Katie: Turn it around.
Charlotte: Obviously, my thinking about her is what brings me excruciating pain. Yeah.
Katie: Yes. Your daughter has nothing to do with your pain.
Charlotte: Mmm. That’s absolutely true. I can see that. I can feel it.
Katie: I love it when people realize this, because when they see the innocence of their children and their parents and their partners, they come to see their own innocence. This Work is about 100 percent forgiveness, because that’s what you want. That’s what you are. Let’s look at the next one.
Charlotte: I’m afraid of Linda’s drug addiction because it changes her personality.
Katie: Turn it around. “I’m afraid of my thinking . . .”
Charlotte: I’m afraid of my thinking because it changes Linda’s personality?
Katie: Interesting. Now try “It changes my . . .”
Charlotte: It changes my personality. Yeah, okay.
Katie: And therefore Linda’s.
Charlotte: And therefore Linda’s.
Katie: Isn’t it funny how we’re the last place we look? Always trying to change the projected rather than clear the projector. We haven’t known a way to do this until now.
Charlotte: Yeah.
Katie: So read it just like that.
Charlotte: I’m afraid of my thinking because it changes my personality.
Katie: Feel it.
Charlotte: Wow! And I can’t see her then. That’s it! I’m afraid of my thinking because it changes my personality, and then I can’t see myself or her. Yeah.
Katie: Have you ever been angry at her and thought, “How can I say that to her? Why am I hurting her? She’s my whole life, I love her, and I just treat her like . . .”
Charlotte: Like shit. It’s like I become someone else. I’m so mean to her when she’s using.
Katie: Because you’re a drug user, and she’s your drug. How else can you be a champion of suffering? Parents call me and say, “My child’s a drug addict, she’s in trouble,” and they don’t see that they’re the ones in trouble. Their child is often doing fine, or at least as well as the parent. And when you get clear, your daughter will follow. You are the way. Let’s look at the next one.
Charlotte: I’m angry at Linda’s drug addiction because when she uses, I’m afraid of her.
Katie: Turn it around.
Charlotte: I’m angry at my drug addiction because then I’m afraid of myself. That’s exactly what happens when she shows up and she’s using. I’m afraid of my own behavior around her.
Katie: “You’re afraid of her”—is that true?
Charlotte: No.
Katie: How do you react, how do you treat her, when you think that thought?
Charlotte: I get angry, volatile, aggressive, and especially I shut her out.
Katie: Like some kind of poison walked into the house.
Charlotte: Yeah, that’s exactly what I do.
Katie: And she’s your baby.
Charlotte: Yeah.
Katie: And you treat her like some bug that just crawled in.
Charlotte: Right. That’s exactly right.
Katie: She’s your dearest child, and you treat her like an enemy. That’s the power of uninvestigated thinking. That’s the power of the nightmare. It has to live itself out. You think, “I’m afraid of her,” and you have to live that out. But if you investigate that thought (“’I’m afraid of her’—is it true?”), the nightmare disappears. When she walks into the house and you have the thought “I’m afraid of her,” laughter replaces fear. You just put your arms around her, and you can hear how she’s afraid of herself. She’ll sit there and tell you. There’s no listener in your home now; there’s just a teacher of fear. That’s understandable, because up until now, you haven’t asked yourself if your thoughts are true. Let’s look at the next statement.
Charlotte: I need Linda to stay away from me when she’s on drugs.
Katie: Is that true? And I’m not saying it’s not.
Charlotte: I feel like it is.
Katie: And does she come to you when she’s on drugs?
Charlotte: No, not anymore.
Katie: So that’s what you need, because that’s what you have. No mistake. If my daughter doesn’t come to me, that’s how I know I don’t need her. If she comes, that’s how I know I need her.
Charlotte: And when she does come, I treat her in this horrible way.
Katie: So turn the statement around.
Charlotte: I need myself to stay away from me when I’m on drugs. That’s really true.
Katie: One way you can stay away from yourself when you’re on drugs, the drug of Linda, is to judge your daughter, write it down, ask four questions, and turn it around. And stay away from who you think you are—this fearful, angry woman—and come back to your beautiful self. It’s what you wanted her to do, so I know that you can. This is a life’s work. You have much more energy when you’re just working on yourself.
Charlotte: Yeah, then I would want her around, whether she was using or not.
Katie: I don’t know.
Charlotte: At least I would be available to her when she’s using, instead of shutting off.
Katie: That could be a lot less painful for both of you.
Charlotte: Yeah.
Katie: It’s wonderful to realize that. Nice Work, sweetheart.