There are always other ways to do things; it's a matter of "Do we know about them yet?" "Are they as dependable?" "How long do they take?" "What else will they affect?" and so on.

Try this: go back and recall a memory of something exquisitely pleasurable, exciting, and humorous from your past, and see what you saw at the time that it occurred. Can you find a memory like that? . . . (She starts to smile.) That's good. Turn the brightness up a little bit, . . . (She smiles more.) That's fine. Now keep that picture and have a dog come right through the middle of that picture and then become a part of that picture. As it does that, I want you to make the picture a little bit brighter. . . .

Now imagine being in the same room with a dog, to see if you're still phobic. . . .

Woman: I feel fine when I think of it now.

That procedure is a variation of another method I'll teach you later. It's not quite as dependable as dissociation for very strong phobias, but it will usually work. I've done a lot of phobias, so I'm bored with them, and I usually just do the fastest and most dependable thing I know. Now that you know it, you can do it, too. But if you really want to understand how brains work, the next time you have a phobic client, take a little longer. Ask a lot of questions to find out how this particular phobia works. For instance, sometimes a phobic person will make the picture of the dog, or whatever it is, very large, or bright, or colorful, or run a movie very slowly, or over and over again. Then you can try changing different things to find out how you can change this particular person's experience. When you get tired of that, you can always pull the quick cure out of your hip pocket and get rid of her in five minutes. If you do that kind of experimenting, you'll start learning how to generate NLP, and you won't have to pay to come to seminars any more.

I once asked a friend, "What is the biggest failure in your life?" He said, "In a couple of weeks I'm going to do this thing and it's not going to work out." You know what? He was right! It was the biggest failure of his life — not because it didn't work out, but because he took the time to feel bad about it ahead of time. Many people use their imagination only to discover all the things that would make them feel bad, so they can feel bad about it now. Why wait?"}

Why wait until your husband goes out and has an affair? Imagine it now; see him out there having fun with someone else. Feel as if you're there watching it all. You can make yourself hideously jealous, just like that. How many of you have done that?

Then if you're still feeling terrible when he comes home, you can yell and scream at him and drive him away, so that it will actually happen. Clients have come in and told me that they did this. I listen to them and I ask, "Why don't you make good pictures?" "What do you mean?" "Change that picture until you can see yourself there with him instead of that other woman. Then step into the picture and enjoy all those good feelings. Then when he gets home, make him want to do it with you." Do you like that better?

People often talk about having "good" and "bad" memories; but that's just a statement about whether they liked them or not. Most people want to have only pleasant memories, and think they'd be much happier if all their bad memories went away. But imagine what your life would be like if you never had any bad experiences! What if you grew up and everything was wonderful all the time? You'd grow up to be a wimp, totally unable to cope; there are quite a few examples in this country.

Once I had a 24–year–old client who had been on valium since he was twelve. The only time he left his house was to go to the dentist, the doctor, or the psychiatrist. He'd been through five psychiatrists, but as far as I could tell, the major thing that was wrong with him was that he hadn't left his house in twelve years. Now his mother and father thought he should be out on his own. His father owned a big construction company, and complained to me, "That boy, it's time he got out on his own." I thought, "You turkey, you're twelve years too late. What are you going to do, give him your company so he can support you?" That company would have a life expectancy of about two days,

Since this kid had lived twelve years of his life on valium, he hadn't had many experiences — until they sent him to me! I made him go all kinds of places and do lots of weird things —either that or I'd beat the stuffing out of him. When he hesitated the first time and said he couldn't do something, I hit him really hard; that was the beginning of having experience. It was just an expedient way; I wouldn't recommend that you do this with most people. But there are times when a good rap on the side of the head constitutes the beginning of building a motivation strategy. Some of you may remember how that works from your younger years. I just put him in a lot of situations where he had to learn to cope with difficulties, and deal with other human beings. That gave him an experiential basis for living in the real world without the cushion of home, drugs, and a psychiatrist. The experiences I provided were a little more useful and relevant than talking to his psychiatrist about his childhood.

People say, "I can't do something" without realizing what those words mean. "Can't" in English is "can not" joined together. When somebody says, "I can't do it," he's saying he "can" — is able to — "not do it," which is always true. If you stop and pay attention, and listen to words, you begin to hear things that tell you what you can do.

I once worked with somebody who wanted to open a shyness and flirtation clinic. She brought me a bunch of people who were shy. I always thought shy people were shy because they thought about unpleasant things that would happen — like rejection, or being laughed at. I started asking these people my usual questions, "How do you know when to be shy? You're not shy all the time." Like all the things people do, shyness requires some process. It's no easy task. One man said, "I know it's time to be shy when I know that I'm going to meet somebody." "Well, what makes you shy?" "I don't think they'll like me." That statement is very different from "I think they won't like me." He literally said "I don't" — I do engage in the activity of not — "think they'll like me." He thinks anything else but that the person will like him. There were some people in the next room, so I said to him, "I want you to think that they'll like you." "OK." "Are you shy about meeting them?" "No." That seems a little too easy, but basically, what works always turns out to be easy.

Unfortunately in psychotherapy there isn't much incentive to find out what works quickly and easily. In most businesses, people get paid by succeeding at something. But in psychotherapy you get paid by the hour, whether anything is accomplished or not. If a therapist is incompetent, he gets paid more than someone who can achieve change quickly. Many therapists even have a rule against being effective. They think that influencing anyone directly is manipulative, and that manipulation is bad. It's as if they said, "You're paying me to influence you. But I'm not going to do it because it's not the right thing to do," When I saw clients, I always charged by the change, rather than by the hour; I only got paid when I got results. That seemed like more of a challenge.