And other preposterous notions
By Kathryn Dixon
Yes. It’s such a nice word. Yes: the apparent gateway to the getting and giving of things that make life brighter and better for everyone. It’s definitely the word we want to hear from others when we make requests, and a word that feels empowering to say. Yes brings agreement and union to people and events and the world. Or so it appears.
Taking a closer at the yeses in your life, how many of them are really true for you? Do you often say yes because you don’t know how not to?
Yet who among us was ever offered a “Graceful Naysaying 101” course? We’ve never been schooled in how to say no when the pressure is on, or it looks like we might lose something that we value. Nor was Sunday School much help in the matter. We are told to honor our parents, honor our spouses — many of us presumed honoring was the same as saying yes.
After all, what kind of human being wouldn’t respond to the needs of another if they could? Sounds simple enough, and yet, unchecked, this premise turns into a confusion that can get out of hand pretty fast.
We stumble along, saying yes when our heart says no, consoling ourselves with the flimsy notion that at least we will get some approval for it (someday). We humans are a resilient lot. We’ll be fulfilled — later.
Sure, I’ll work overtime this week too. I don’t mind.
Of course, sweetheart, you can manage all my finances for me if that’s what you want.
You weren’t interrupting; I was just resting for a minute. What can I do for you?
After awhile this default to the wishes of others can get so big, we may even forget what we truly want for ourselves. A desire or inspiration might arise, but if another’s needs or preferences conflict with it, submission reigns (along with a wee bit of resentment). Yes suddenly seems like a recipe for disaster.
So, let’s take a clarifying adventure into considering the cost of holding the belief that good people always say yes. We’ll use The Work of Byron Katie (www.thework.com) as our template for the inquiry. It’s simple, straightforward, and the results are astonishing.
Good people always say yes.
Question 1. Can I really know it’s true that good people always say yes?
Actually, no. I’ve been saying yes most of the time for most of my life, and it certainly has not produced any authentic awareness of my own goodness.
Question 2. How do I react when I believe the thought that good people always say yes?
I say yes to everything and everyone — except myself! I don’t get to see the movies I’d like to, and I go to restaurants that serve the types of food I don’t prefer to eat. I dismiss my own predilections and eventually stop caring about whatever makes my own heart sing. (I can go without, I’m strong…) I’m jealous of those audacious souls who possess the conviction to follow their own passions in life. I judge people who are true to themselves as selfish and self-absorbed. I become resentful of the very people I believe I am serving, and wonder why they don’t appear at all grateful for my beneficent altruism. I often wind up really tired, and sometimes even really sad. Exhaustion and emptiness are my companions, along with anger, withholding and — yes, let’s say it like it is — dishonesty. How is it possible to tell the truth when I believe that people won’t see me as good if I tell them the real truth? I get to have two kinds of truth — an outer truth for the world, and an inner truth which is never known by others or myself.
Question 3. Can I see a reason to drop this belief? (This question isn’t asking me to drop the belief, only if I can see a reason to.)
Sure, every response to Question 2 is a sobering reason to consider it. And, interestingly enough, I can’t see any reason to hold on to this belief that feels good at all.
Question 4. Who would I be without this belief?
Free! Free at last! My life would become a reflection of my heart’s desires. I would be more honest — with myself first, with the world and everyone in it. I’d have more energy and joy, and I’d probably be more creative and productive, less calculated and reactive. I would feel a greater trust of my own truth in each moment, and also everyone else’s. I would begin to discover that if my truth is to say no, it must have a purpose, and be willing to live with the consequences. If people reject me because I won’t compromise, then perhaps their rejection is actually a gift rather than a liability. I would surrender my sacrificial lamb persona. Truth would become my companion, and love would be less conditional. I would be much better able to stay open and loving when someone else’s truth is no to me, if I am clear that no is equally the gift that yes is. Yes and no would not be moral yardsticks, but merely the expression of what appears to be so, in this moment. Both are simple truths that can change in each and every moment.
With new perspectives borne of the 4 Questions, we top it all off with what is called the “Turn-Around.” This is where we take the original statement or belief, and twist it around here and there just for fun to see what else comes up. Surprisingly, it almost always comes up with deeper truth than the original posed.
Good people don’t always say yes. I suppose that could be true. Often the hero in a story is the one who finally says no to the villain, once and for all. All villains and their sufferers are served by somebody saying no. The villain is stopped from his misdoing, and the sufferers are relieved.
Good people always say no. To think a good person always does anything is to presume that life is a very predictable affair. If I have to hold a rigid position, no matter what happens to be going on in my experience, I am bound to suffer and also perhaps be the cause of suffering as well.
Good people never say yes — unless it’s what they feel — is true. My story of a good person is honest and present to whatever action or non-action resonates with their integrity in each and every moment.
Bad people always say yes. I can find the truth of that in that I often say yes when I want something or am afraid I might lose something. So many yeses come not from truth but fear.
Another way to look at that last turn-around is People who always say yes feel bad. Now there’s a truth I can vouch for, from way too much experience.
In the end, perhaps our truth is the only real gift we ever have to give — to ourselves or anyone else. Maybe it doesn’t really matter if the truth happens to be a yes or a no. The gift just might be the willingness to embody the truth in each moment and discover what sort of sacred adventure might unfold from there. Without that, the adventure isn’t happening at all.
Kathryn Dixon is the founder of Clarity Coaching, www.kathryndixon.com. She’s a graduate of Byron Katie’s certification program and has been a facilitator of “the Work” with individuals, groups and organizations for eight years.
Copyright © 2005 New Moon Press. Catalyst Magazine