E-Newsletter
December, 2025
Christmas 2025
“It was always so special for us.”
“It was horrible. We screamed and fought. I can’t wait for it to be over.”
“I miss them/him/her so much.”
“THEY ARE COMING AT 4:00 AND I’M NOT READY!!!”
I remember Working with Byron Katie 16 years ago in front of many earnest devotees and weeping
openly because my husband had again destroyed my Christmas (and the children’s) by taking all the gifts
under the tree and holding us hostage (to obey, to do what he wanted, yada yada yada) in hopes he
would be benevolent enough to give them back to us.
What a miserable person he was. He endeavored to make everyone suffer the way he had at each of his
childhood Christmases.
To give one day – or season - so much intensity, one must be very afraid of one’s own mind. One
must be afraid of one’s own thoughts.
I am at home in my mind now. I notice I love my thoughts most of the time. And if I find a thought
stressful or even repetitive, I write it down and do the Work on it. I truly hold no resentments any
longer.
So, as I cozied up to the fire on Christmas, looking at all the gifts and trash and food and hearing my
daughter softly snore on the couch next to me (and the cat do the same), I had to laugh at the thoughts
running through my mind, somewhat fueled by caffeine and sugar, yet mostly sedated by the exquisite
love I was feeling for my friends, my family, my health.
And now I watch my thoughts grumble things like, “shit I have to put all this stuff away.” And “I swear I
will never put up this much stuff again.”
This morphs into a search on the internet for Christmas decorations on sale, and I laugh and love and
laugh and love and notice that today is New Year’s Eve, and this is supposed to mean something too.
I love my thoughts. I love you. I have no idea what any of it means.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Right? Ah, the world in time.
Love,
Gopita
