I have spent the last two posts talking about my all-time favorite “mentoring manual”, as I like to call it.

This short piece, composed by an author whose name remains unknown, and entitled simply, “Rules for Being Human”, has done more to reassure and strengthen me for the journey yet ahead than probably any other single piece of literature I have ever read (and I LOVE to read).

For some reason, I started the discussion going backwards, so after reviewing and discussing rules 10, 9, and 8 in previous posts, respectively, in this post we now arrive at Rule #7, which states:

Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.

Ouch. Right?

OUCH.

There is a dialogue in Byron Katie’s book, “Who Would You Be Without Your Story”, that just fascinates me.

She is talking with a gentleman who has arrived at her workshop bearing a particular – and particularly common – issue. Especially in recovery circles.

He doesn’t feel good enough. Or enough. Or all of the above.

He is courageous though, and has volunteered to share his story with Katie in front of an audience of hundreds, hopeful that it might help.

The gentleman begins to share, explaining that he simply does not believe he is living up to his full potential. This is Katie’s response -

If I’m good at something, I don’t give it to the world….I give it to the one in front of me, because I’ve received it myself. If I have the most sweetheart thing in the world, it’s not for everyone. It’s for the one in front of me – it’s for me first and then you. That’s all. That’s all that’s required. No push, no pull. It’s not a grand scale. It’s just for this, the one in front of you. That’s your job.

AMAZING.

She has just described the essence of mentoring, in one short paragraph.

Oh, and summed up the essential existential struggle raging inside my being since, well, birth.

That, I think, was a bonus.

Right now I am reading my way through Byron Katie’s “Who Would You Be Without Your Story?”

It is an interesting question.

Who WOULD I be?

This identity I have – as me, with my foibles (uncoordinated, can’t cook), hang-ups (socially anxious, too serious), phobias (roaches, knives), talents (music, hopefully writing!), interests (recovery, birds), etc etc etc….

Is it really “me”?

Who is me?

Who am I?

This concept of “us as story” gives me a whole new perspective on these age-old profound questions.

I might be all of the above. None of the above. Somewhere in between. Or nowhere I’ve ever been before. Or everywhere.

Fascinating.

Do you want to know what Ed (for “eating disorder”) adores above all things?

Impatience.

Today, I thought I would share an excerpt from a recent letter I received in the hopes it might be helpful for those of you who are having trouble making peace with the pace of your own recovery progress.

The writer shares:

When I was first diagnosed with my eating disorder, I saw people on the unit that told me, “I have been struggling for 3 years …. I have been struggling for 5 years …. I have been struggling for 10 years….” My first reaction (internally) was, “Heck, that’s never going to be ME.

Yet, here I am, nearly 8 years after I first started struggling with eating issues, and I can’t help but think to myself, “What on earth HAPPENED??” I am now “one of them.” So now I’m also struggling with keeping the light at the end of the tunnel in sight. If I can’t keep it shining for myself, if I can’t keep it in sight, how else will I EVER recover?? I’m struggling a lot with just wanting to give up.

I know recovery is possible….it has to be. After all, you were entrenched in your Ed for what?? 15 years?? I just have trouble acknowledging that it’s possible for ME.

Byron Katie says that we will know we are ready to do things differently when we do. I love this. To me, this feels like walking hand in hand with the present moment, knowing in the depths of my being that I am in good company, and that patience is becoming my best friend.

It is so reassuring.

A few posts ago, a reader named Karl asked a most excellent question about an experience I shared from my attendance last month at Byron Katie’s School for the Work.

Here it is, for those of you who may have missed it:

Hi Shannon, one observation about the above post: it seems to me that to say that what is “should be” is an interpretation that is added to reality. For instance, if an earthquake happens and people die, do you just rejoice in it and go, “Great! People are dying!!” Is that loving what is?? It seems to me that loving what is means taking appropriate action when life demands it. Some of BK’s [Byron Katie's] concepts just occur as very confusing for me and I’m trying to understand.

We also had several caring readers post wonderful responses, so just take this for what it may or may not be worth – my 2 cents as a School for the Work rank beginner, and coming simply from remembering Katie’s own words on this very subject.

When I arrived at the School, I had no idea what to expect. I had seen Katie speak all of once, for a good solid hour, and was flying in on fumes of fear and hope. I had arrived bearing a particular struggle in tow (as had many of the attendees, I later learned), and was there because – quite frankly – nothing else I had tried to fix it had worked.

I couldn’t meditate it away. Chant it away. Volunteer it away.

I couldn’t distract it with a new toy. A glass of wine. Or a new friend.

It simply preferred my company over all else, and would. not. leave. me. be.

I was hoping maybe Katie could hel

Before I attended The School for the Work last month, if someone had asked me this question, I probably would have responded with a knee-jerk “yes”.

After all, it’s the polite thing to say.

Even if someone had decided to hand over some unsolicited advice, I probably would have gamely tried it on for size, wriggling and scrunching in whatever way I could to reassure them that their words were both welcome and helpful.

Today, I have a slightly different perspective.

Have you ever stopped to really notice just how often you are handed advice you did not ask for, and do not want, which is not helpful (or often even relevant)?

After attending Byron Katie’s School, I began to notice.

In the School, we were taught how to listen.

I mean really LISTEN.