On beliefs that ask to be rewritten
What an old belief looks like in practice — and why, most of the time, it isn’t enough to simply „know” it.
In a session, a person tells me, almost in passing: “I know it isn’t my fault, but I still feel it is.” I stop. “That’s the sentence,” I say. “That’s what we rewrite today, if you want.”
Our mind can, at the same time, know and not believe different things. That’s why it’s hard. That’s why ten books aren’t enough.
An old belief isn’t an idea. It’s more like a frame, a way your eye has learned to see. When someone says “I love you”, the frame decides whether you feel it or retreat. Not the idea. The frame.
In theta, what we try to do is look at the frame, not at the painting. To lift it, turn it, look at its back. To see how it got there, on what shelf. And then to ask, calmly: is it still needed?
Most of the time, not suddenly, something moves. Sometimes it takes several sessions. Sometimes one. I don’t know in advance. I don’t think it would be honest to pretend I do.
I’m writing this because I want it to be clear — this work is not magic. It’s patience, attention, and a little willingness to look at what you’ve grown used to not looking at. The rest comes by itself.