Elaine Grundy

This is a section of Katie’s Feb ‘Valentine’s newsletter, the woman is a treasure – take the time to read what Stephen, her partner, has to say about their first meeting – wonderful! http://www.byronkatie.com/newsletter_fe09.html

If you say that you love your husband, what does that have to do with him?

You’re
just telling him who you are. You tell the story of how he’s handsome
and fascinating and sexy, and you love your story about him. You’re
projecting that he’s your story. And then when he doesn’t give you what
you want, you may tell the story of how he’s mean, he’s controlling,
he’s selfish—and what does that have to do with him? If my husband
says, “I adore you,” I think, “Good. I love that he thinks I’m his
sweet dream. How happy he must feel about that!”

If
he were ever to come to me and say, “The sorriest day of my life was
when I married you,” still, what would that have to do with me? He’d
just be in a sad dream this time, and I might think, “Oh poor baby,
he’s having a nightmare. I hope he wakes up soon.” It’s not personal.
How can it have anything to do with me? I love him, and if what he says
about me isn’t true in my experience, I would ask him if there’s
anything I can do for him. If I can do it, I will, and if it’s not
honest for me, I won’t. He is left with his story. No one will ever
understand you. Realizing this is freedom. No one will ever understand
you—not once, not ever. Even at our most understanding, we can only
understand our story of who you are. There’s no understanding here
except your own. If you don’t love another person, it hurts, because
love is your very self. You can’t make yourself do it.

But when you come to love yourself, you automatically love the other person. It’s not a choice.
Just as you can’t make yourself love us, you can’t make yourself not
love us. Husbands, wives, lovers—all a projection of mind. When you
truly love someone, a thought like “You should love me” brings laughter
to your heart. Can you hear the arrogance of that thought? “I don’t
care whom you want to love. You should love me, and I’ll even trick you
into it if need be, or at least I’ll try to, out of my self-deluded
head.” This is the opposite of love.

If I think my husband should love me, I’m insane.
Whose business is it whom he loves? His, of course. The turnarounds
show me the way toward what is truer to my heart: I should love me, and
I should love him. Let him love whomever he loves—he’s going to anyway.
The story of whom someone should love keeps me from the awareness that
I am what I’m seeking. It’s not his job to love me—it’s mine.