My inner world is a mix of light and dark, clarity and confusion.
In this paradigm, things are broken or fixed, black or white, capable or not. This is the world of the strong helping the weak, and the weak depending on the strong. It is the paradigm of codependence.
And I’m not talking about external codependence. I’m talking about the strong, clear parts of me trying to fix the weak, confused parts of me. It’s total codependence on the inside. And of course, this carries over onto codependence on external teachers, friends, and professionals as well.
Self-inquiry does not care about fixing. “Fixing” assumes that the parts that need fixing are not strong enough to take care of themselves. Fixing assumes that some kind of intervention is needed because the weak parts need help—they can’t do it on their own.
Self-inquiry is just the opposite.
Self-inquiry assumes that each part of me is wise, even the stuck parts, even the confused parts. Self-inquiry does not impose any kind of intervention on the weak parts of me; it invites the confused parts to speak, with no motive to change them.
Self-inquiry assumes that there is some intelligence behind the stuckness. And it wants to hear it. And it also assumes that the solution to any problem lies within the problem itself. So it invites the stuck part to first of all be heard, and secondly to unravel the problem itself.
Through The Work of Byron Katie, which is a form of self-inquiry, my weak parts are literally being given the space and the tools to become strong. That’s why it feels so empowering.
It is not fixing, or snipping, or deleting, or suppressing. The Work says, “Hey, I hear you shouting down there. Sounds like you’re in pain. What’s going on?”
It is listening. That is a huge part of it right there. But it’s more than listening, it is handing down the tools to the stuck part so that it can unstick itself, and allowing as much time as it needs in order to do so, even if it never gets there.
Being a fixer means trying to be in control, trying to dominate, or use some kind of force to override the problem. This gives a superficial solution at best. And results are temporary. It also leads to self-attack when the stuck parts don’t cooperate.
It’s easy to end up “trying to fix” just out of sheer force of habit—even when doing The Work. But it’s easy to spot. First, you’ll notice a resistance. Then a resentment if you are trying to force wisdom on yourself. This is not self-inquiry. This is pure “fixing” in the guise of doing The Work. If there’s even the slightest desire to fix myself while doing The Work, it hampers the process.
The reason for this is that the stuck part that is crying inside senses the bully “wise” part that wants to fix it. And it closes down even further. Whereas, if there is no desire to fix the stuck part when doing The Work, the stuck part feels safe to stand up and tell it’s story, and even to explore how the very opposite of what it thinks could be as true.
Stuck parts have feelings. Stuck parts have wisdom. If you’re really open to self-inquiry, with no motive to fix or delete, and no sense of superiority looking down on those stuck parts, those confused parts could become your greatest teachers. And they can literally blossom in the light of self-inquiry.
That is what The Work is all about: giving the stuck parts their day. The weak become strong. And as they say, the stone that was discarded could become the cornerstone.
To me, this is what self-respect looks like. That’s why I love self-inquiry.
Join my Inquiry Circle community today.