Loving What Is

Loving What Is Plot Summary

Introduction

The weight of my thoughts was crushing me. I remember sitting alone in my apartment one evening, completely overwhelmed by anxiety about my relationship. My partner had been distant lately, and my mind was spinning with terrifying stories about what this might mean. "He's going to leave me. I'm not good enough. I'll end up alone." The more I believed these thoughts, the more I suffered. I could barely eat or sleep, and I was constantly on edge, analyzing his every word and gesture for hidden meanings. Then something remarkable happened. A friend suggested I try a simple approach: question my thoughts instead of believing them automatically. At first, it seemed too basic to help with my intense distress. But when I actually wrote down my painful beliefs and examined them with four simple questions, something shifted. I realized that my suffering wasn't coming from my relationship situation—it was coming from my unexamined thinking about it. By learning to identify and question the thoughts that were causing my pain, I discovered a path to freedom that didn't depend on changing others or my circumstances. This process of inquiry doesn't aim to change reality, but rather to align with it, revealing how much of our suffering comes from fighting what is already true in our lives.

Chapter 1: The Power of Four Questions

Sarah had been struggling with intense resentment toward her boss for months. "He micromanages everything I do," she explained during a workshop. "He doesn't trust me to do my job, and it's making me miserable." As Sarah described her situation, her face tightened with anger and frustration. She had been in this job for three years and had received excellent performance reviews, yet her boss still scrutinized her work down to the smallest detail. When Sarah wrote down her thoughts about her boss and began questioning them, something unexpected happened. The first question—"Is it true?"—seemed obvious to her at first. "Of course it's true that he micromanages me!" But when she moved to the second question—"Can I absolutely know that it's true?"—she paused. "Well, I know he checks my work often, but can I absolutely know his intention is because he doesn't trust me?" For the first time, she considered other possibilities. The third question—"How do I react when I believe this thought?"—revealed how much energy she was expending on resentment. "I get tense as soon as he approaches my desk. I withhold information sometimes. I complain about him to colleagues. I've started looking for another job even though I love the actual work." When asked who she would be without the thought, Sarah closed her eyes. "I'd just do my work. I might even ask him directly why he checks things so closely. I'd be curious instead of defensive." Then came the turnaround: "I micromanage my boss." Sarah laughed, then grew thoughtful. "I'm constantly watching him, interpreting his actions, managing how I think he should behave toward me. I'm also micromanaging myself, second-guessing everything I do because I'm worried about his reaction." This insight shifted something fundamental for Sarah. She realized that her suffering came not from her boss's behavior but from her interpretations about what his behavior meant. In the days that followed, Sarah approached her work differently. Without her defensive filter, she noticed her boss checked everyone's work, not just hers. When she asked him about it casually, he mentioned that the company had recently faced a costly error and he was under pressure from higher up. The situation hadn't changed, but her experience of it transformed completely.

Chapter 2: Challenging Reality vs. Accepting What Is

James had been fighting reality for twenty years. His adult son struggled with addiction, and James had tried everything to "fix" him—interventions, treatment centers, tough love, gentle support, financial help, withholding money—all with the same result: continued heartbreak and disappointment. By the time James attended a workshop, he was emotionally exhausted and physically ill from the stress. "I just want my son to get clean and live a normal life," James said, his voice breaking. "Is that too much to ask?" The facilitator suggested he write down his thoughts about his son and question them. James wrote: "My son should be sober. He's wasting his life. He should care about his health and future." When asked, "Is it true that your son should be sober right now?" James immediately answered yes. But the second question—"Can you absolutely know that's true?"—stopped him. After a long pause, he whispered, "No. The reality is that he's not sober." This simple acknowledgment brought tears to his eyes. "How do you react when you believe the thought that he should be sober when he's not?" the facilitator asked. James described decades of anger, fear, disappointment, and controlling behaviors. "I've spent twenty years arguing with reality, and reality has won every time," he realized. When asked who he would be without the thought, James closed his eyes. "I'd just love him. I'd still set boundaries for myself, but I wouldn't be constantly disappointed or trying to control him." Then came the turnarounds: "I should be sober." James nodded. "I've been intoxicated with my own righteousness, with my story of how his life should go." Another turnaround: "My son shouldn't be sober." James considered this. "Well, the evidence of twenty years suggests that right now, in this moment, he's not sober. Fighting that reality has only caused me pain." In the weeks that followed, James reported a profound shift. He stopped trying to "fix" his son and instead focused on his own peace of mind. He set clear boundaries about what he would and wouldn't do, but without the anger and disappointment that had previously accompanied them. Most surprisingly, his relationship with his son improved. Without James's judgment and desperate attempts to control, his son began calling more often and even asked for help finding a new treatment program—something he had resisted for years. The story of James illustrates that accepting reality doesn't mean approving of it or becoming passive. It means dealing with what is actually happening rather than exhausting ourselves fighting against it. When we stop arguing with reality, we conserve energy that can be directed toward effective action rather than futile resistance.

Chapter 3: Family Relationships and Self-Discovery

Maria had been estranged from her father for over fifteen years. Their relationship had always been difficult, but the final break came after a heated argument where, in Maria's words, "He showed his true colors as a selfish, uncaring person." Since then, she had built a life without him, telling herself she was better off without such a toxic influence. Yet something didn't feel resolved. Despite her outward insistence that she had moved on, Maria found herself thinking about her father frequently, especially during family holidays or when facing important life decisions. When she wrote down her thoughts about him—"He never really loved me. He was a terrible father. He should have apologized"—she felt the familiar surge of righteous anger. The inquiry process led Maria to surprising places. When asked if she could absolutely know that her father never loved her, she hesitated. "I always thought the answer was obviously yes, but now I'm not sure. He did show up for my performances in school. He worked two jobs to pay for my college." For the first time, Maria considered that her father's love might have been real, even if it wasn't expressed in ways she could recognize or appreciate at the time. When examining how she reacted when believing her father didn't love her, Maria realized how this belief had shaped her other relationships. "I keep people at a distance. I test them to see if they'll abandon me. I struggle to trust anyone completely." The question "Who would you be without this thought?" opened up possibilities she hadn't considered. "I'd be more open, less defensive. I might even be able to see my father as a flawed human being doing his best, rather than a monster who failed me." The turnaround—"I never really loved him"—hit Maria hard. "There's truth in that. I didn't try to understand his perspective. I had such rigid ideas about how a father should behave." Another turnaround—"I never really loved me"—revealed how Maria had abandoned herself by holding onto resentment that caused her pain year after year. Two months after this inquiry, Maria decided to contact her father. The conversation wasn't perfect—old patterns emerged on both sides—but something had fundamentally changed in Maria. She no longer needed him to be different to feel at peace. Their relationship slowly rebuilt, not into an idealized father-daughter bond, but into something authentic based on who they actually were, not who Maria thought they should be. This transformation wasn't about forgetting past hurts or pretending everything was fine. It was about questioning the stories that kept Maria locked in suffering long after the original events had ended. By investigating her thoughts, she discovered that much of her pain came not from what had happened, but from what she believed about what had happened.

Chapter 4: Work, Money, and Finding Peace

Robert was consumed with anxiety about money. Despite having a successful career and substantial savings, he couldn't shake the persistent worry that he would somehow lose everything and end up destitute. "I need at least three million dollars to feel secure," he insisted during a workshop. "Otherwise, I'm just one disaster away from ruin." This belief drove Robert to work sixty-hour weeks, check his investment accounts multiple times daily, and lie awake at night running financial scenarios in his head. His relationship with his wife was suffering because he criticized her spending and refused to take vacations. Even though he earned a comfortable living, he lived as if financial catastrophe was always just around the corner. When Robert wrote down and questioned his thoughts about money, he was surprised by what emerged. The thought "I need three million dollars to be secure" seemed absolutely true to him—until he examined it closely. "Can I absolutely know that's true?" led him to consider people who felt secure with much less, as well as wealthy people who still felt insecure despite having far more than three million. The third question—"How do I react when I believe this thought?"—revealed the toll this belief was taking. "I'm never present. I'm always working or worrying about money. I'm irritable with my family. I never feel like I have enough, no matter how much I accumulate." When asked who he would be without the thought, Robert closed his eyes and sat quietly for a long time. "I'd enjoy what I have now. I'd spend time with my wife without worrying about the future. I might even realize I already have enough." The turnarounds were illuminating: "I don't need three million dollars to be secure" and "I need myself to be secure." Robert realized that no amount of money had ever given him the feeling of security he craved because the insecurity was coming from his thinking, not his financial situation. In the months that followed, Robert made significant changes. He didn't quit his job or give away his savings—accepting reality doesn't mean acting foolishly. But he did reduce his hours, take a long-postponed vacation with his wife, and stop checking his investment accounts obsessively. Most importantly, he noticed that when thoughts about financial ruin arose, he could recognize them as just thoughts, not facts. What Robert discovered is that our relationship with work and money is profoundly influenced by our underlying beliefs. When we question these beliefs, we often find that what we thought we needed for peace and security was actually preventing us from experiencing them. Real security comes not from controlling external circumstances but from meeting our thoughts with understanding.

Chapter 5: Overcoming Fear and Embracing Mortality

Elena had been paralyzed by fear since her diagnosis. The doctors had removed the tumor, but the word "cancer" continued to dominate her life. She couldn't sleep, constantly researched medical information online, and interpreted every bodily sensation as evidence that the cancer had returned. "I'm terrified of dying," she admitted. "I can't enjoy anything because I'm constantly worried that this disease will kill me." During a workshop, Elena wrote down her thoughts about death and disease: "Cancer is a terrible way to die. I shouldn't have to face this. I'm not ready to leave my children." As she questioned these thoughts, she began to cry. "Is it true that cancer is a terrible way to die? I don't know. I've never died before, so I can't really know what it's like." This simple admission—that she didn't actually know what dying would be like—created a small opening. When asked how she reacted when believing that cancer was a terrible death, Elena described her constant anxiety, how she'd withdrawn from life despite being currently cancer-free, and how she'd become obsessed with controlling everything about her health. "Who would you be without this thought?" prompted a surprising answer: "I'd be living. Right now, I'm so afraid of dying that I'm not really living at all." The turnarounds offered new perspectives: "Cancer is not a terrible way to die" challenged her to consider that her fear of death might be worse than death itself. "My thinking about cancer is a terrible way to live" helped her see how her unquestioned thoughts were causing immediate suffering, regardless of what might happen with her health in the future. Over the following months, Elena continued to question her fearful thoughts about mortality. Though she still had moments of worry, especially before medical check-ups, she no longer lived in constant terror. She began to enjoy simple pleasures again—cooking dinner for her family, walking in nature, reading books that weren't about cancer. Most surprisingly, she found herself feeling grateful for her diagnosis because it had awakened her to the preciousness of ordinary moments she had previously taken for granted. Elena's story illustrates how our deepest fears—even fear of death—are often magnified by our unquestioned thinking. When we believe our fearful thoughts without investigation, we suffer in the present moment over something that exists only in our imagination. By questioning these thoughts, we don't eliminate death or disease, but we can eliminate unnecessary suffering about them. This allows us to be present for our actual lives rather than lost in fearful projections about the future.

Chapter 6: Turning Around Judgments

Thomas had spent years judging his colleague Jennifer. "She's incompetent. She takes credit for other people's work. She only got promoted because she's friends with the boss." These thoughts created constant tension in the workplace, as Thomas avoided collaborating with Jennifer and spoke critically about her to other colleagues. During a personal development workshop, Thomas wrote down his judgments about Jennifer and began the inquiry process. The first question—"Is it true?"—seemed obvious to him. "Of course she's incompetent!" But when pressed with the second question—"Can you absolutely know that's true?"—he had to admit that Jennifer had successfully completed several major projects and received positive feedback from clients. The third question revealed how much energy Thomas expended on his judgments. "I spend hours complaining about her to colleagues. I refuse to collaborate with her, which makes certain projects more difficult. I'm constantly looking for evidence that she's failing." When asked who he would be without these thoughts, Thomas realized he would be more focused on his own work and less obsessed with Jennifer's performance. Then came the turnarounds: "I'm incompetent." Thomas initially rejected this, but then considered areas where he struggled professionally. "I take credit for other people's work." He remembered instances where he hadn't fully acknowledged colleagues' contributions to projects he led. "I got promoted because of personal connections." Thomas recalled how his former manager had advocated for his promotion partly because they had a good personal relationship. The most powerful moment came when Thomas realized that all the qualities he judged in Jennifer were aspects of himself he hadn't fully acknowledged or accepted. His judgments of her reflected his own insecurities and unexamined behaviors. By projecting these qualities onto Jennifer, he avoided facing them in himself. In the weeks that followed, Thomas approached his workplace differently. He initiated a collaborative project with Jennifer and was surprised to find her expertise complemented his own. When judgmental thoughts about her arose, he recognized them as projections and turned his attention back to his own work and development. Thomas's experience demonstrates how our judgments of others often reveal more about us than about them. When we project our unacknowledged qualities onto others, we create unnecessary conflict and miss opportunities for growth and connection. By turning our judgments around, we reclaim the disowned parts of ourselves and develop greater compassion—both for ourselves and for those we've judged.

Chapter 7: Living The Work in Everyday Life

Rachel had been practicing inquiry for several months when she faced a significant test. After years of planning, she and her husband had booked a dream vacation to New Zealand. Two days before their departure, Rachel developed severe flu symptoms. By the morning of their flight, she could barely get out of bed. "This can't be happening," she thought. "This trip is supposed to be perfect. It's not fair to get sick now." In the past, these thoughts would have sent Rachel into a spiral of self-pity and resentment. She would have either forced herself to travel while feeling miserable or spent the entire trip angry about her ruined expectations. But this time, she paused and recognized an opportunity to put her practice to work in a challenging situation. Rachel wrote down her thoughts: "I shouldn't be sick right now. This trip should be perfect. My body has betrayed me." As she questioned each thought, she felt her resistance softening. "Is it true that I shouldn't be sick right now? Well, I am sick, so reality disagrees with my 'should.'" When she asked herself how she reacted when believing these thoughts, she noticed they only added suffering to her physical discomfort. The turnarounds offered new perspectives: "I should be sick right now"—because that was reality. "My body hasn't betrayed me"—it was actually trying to heal itself. "This trip doesn't have to be perfect to be valuable"—an insight that freed her from her rigid expectations. Rachel and her husband postponed their trip by three days. When they did travel, Rachel was still recovering but felt well enough to enjoy the experience. Most importantly, she approached the trip differently. Instead of trying to control everything to meet her preconceived idea of "perfect," she remained open to the experience as it unfolded. When plans needed to be modified due to her lower energy, she accepted these changes without the drama and disappointment that would have previously consumed her. Living The Work in everyday life doesn't mean we never have negative thoughts or challenging emotions. It means we have a tool to meet these experiences when they arise. Over time, the four questions become internalized—a natural response to stressful thoughts rather than an exercise we have to remember to do. The most profound shifts often happen not during formal inquiry sessions but in ordinary moments when we catch ourselves believing a stressful thought and naturally question it. This ongoing practice gradually transforms our relationship with reality. Instead of constantly fighting against what is, we develop the ability to respond to life with clarity and wisdom. We still take action to change circumstances when appropriate, but we do so from a place of acceptance rather than resistance. This is the ultimate freedom—not freedom from life's challenges, but freedom from unnecessary suffering about them.

Summary

Through the stories and insights shared in this book, we discover that our suffering comes not from what happens to us, but from our thoughts about what happens. The four simple questions—Is it true? Can I absolutely know that it's true? How do I react when I believe that thought? Who would I be without the thought?—provide a practical path to freedom that anyone can follow. Whether facing relationship conflicts, work challenges, health concerns, or financial worries, this process of inquiry helps us identify and question the beliefs that cause our suffering. The transformative power of this work lies in its simplicity and universality. We don't need to change our external circumstances to find peace—we need only to question our thinking about those circumstances. As we've seen through numerous examples, when we stop arguing with reality and instead align with what is, we discover a natural state of joy and clarity that was always available to us. The inquiry process doesn't ask us to adopt new beliefs or philosophies; it simply invites us to examine our existing beliefs and discover for ourselves what is truly causing our pain. In doing so, we often find that what we thought we needed for happiness—different people, more money, better health, perfect circumstances—was never the real source of peace. True freedom comes from loving what is, exactly as it is, right now.

About Author

Loading...

Byron Katie

Byron Kathleen Mitchell, better known as Byron Katie, is an American speaker, writer, and founder of a method of self-inquiry called The Work of Byron Katie or simply The Work.Katie became severely depressed in her early thirties. She was a businesswoman and mother who lived in Barstow, a small town in the high desert of southern California. For nearly a decade she spiraled down into paranoia, rage, self-loathing, and constant thoughts of suicide; for the last two years she was often unable to leave her bedroom. Then, one morning in February 1986, while in a halfway house for women with eating disorders, she experienced a life-changing realization. In that moment, she says,I discovered that when I believed my thoughts, I suffered, but that when I didn’t believe them, I didn’t suffer, and that this is true for every human being. Freedom is as simple as that. I found that suffering is optional. I found a joy within me that has never disappeared, not for a single moment. Soon afterward people started seeking her out and asking how they could find the freedom that they saw in her. As reports spread about the transformations they felt they were experiencing through The Work, she was invited to present it publicly elsewhere in California, then throughout the United States, and eventually in Europe and across the world.The Work has been compared to the Socratic method and to Zen meditation, but Katie is not aligned with any religion or tradition. She describes self-inquiry as an embodiment, in words, of the wordless questioning that had woken up in her on that February morning. She has shared The Work with millions of people at public events, in prisons, hospitals, churches, V. A. treatment centers, corporations, universities, and schools. Participants at her weekend workshops, the nine-day School for The Work, and the twenty-eight-day residential Turnaround House report profound experiences and lasting transformations. “Katie’s events are riveting to watch,” the Times of London reported. Eckhart Tolle calls The Work “a great blessing for our planet.” And Time magazine named Katie a “spiritual innovator for the new millennium.”Katie is married to the writer and translator Stephen Mitchell, who co-wrote Loving What Is, A Thousand Names for Joy, and A Mind at Home with Itself. I Need Your Love—Is That True? was written with Michael Katz, her literary agent at the time. Her other books are Question Your Thinking, Change The World; Who Would You Be Without Your Story?; Peace in the Present Moment, with Eckhart Tolle, A Friendly Universe, and, for children, Tiger-Tiger, Is It True? and The Four Questions. On her website thework.com, you will find detailed instructions about The Work; video and audio clips; Katie's calendar of events; event registration; free downloads, including the Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet; interviews; apps for your iPhone, iPad, or Android; a free newsletter; a free helpline; and the online store. You might also want to visit Katie's Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook pages, and her live-streaming webcast page, livewithbyronkatie.com.

Read more