In this dualistic world, we often swing from one wrong side of something to the other wrong side. This is a necessary movement for us to gradually find the middle way. This is where the more truthful way lies.

Our work involves letting go of the edges and allowing ourselves to move through the growth process. This is how we find our way.

We sometimes resist this natural movement because we fear becoming the opposite of our chosen distortion. The Pathwork Guide explains this shows up, for example, in our two rebellious reactions to authority: the law breaker and law-upholder.

We must each do our own inner work to develop a proper concept of authority. And then we must work to develop our own inner authority. It's quite possible we have not seen an example of the kind of authority we should strive for.

In this teaching, the Guide suggests that can we look at the life of Jesus as an example. We can also look at our reaction to the name Jesus, in particular, and Christianity, in general. For many people have strong reactions to these words.

In this case, there are the two sides of submitting and rebelling Christians, with logical explanations for how both come about. But neither side is in truth. Both are in distortion.

It's worth emphasizing that adopting a distorted stance about anything—and therefore needing to reorient ourselves—is a perfectly normal part of being human. If this were not the case for each of us, we wouldn't be living in this dimension.

It's equally important to point out the importance of change. For only by changing and growing can we move through our distortions. The alternative is to stay stuck. And being stuck always equates to negativity.

What's the common denominator under all our negativity? Untruth.

Our work, then, involves finding the untruth buried within us, and restoring ourselves to a free-flowing, fearless and harmonious state. This is what brings us more fully alive.

By coming more alive—more awake—we begin the process of overcoming death.

Destroying what is not sound

The work of healing happens through two stages, which overlap. In the first stage, we are transforming our Lower Self. We can think of this as scrubbing floors. And indeed, much of our healing work feels like this.

In the second stage, we are learning to let go of our ego and live from our inner divinity. In short, we are learning how to live in a clean house.

The part of us that manages this process is the ego. To do this, our ego must develop self-discipline and learn to pay attention within. And we must become fundamentally willing to change.

If we resist the natural movement of change, we will stay stuck. Which is when a crisis comes into our lives. A crisis is designed to shake us up and, in doing so, break down the rigid structures our ego has built to keep itself safe.

Because our spirit cannot flow freely within these life-limiting walls.  

As long as we keep running, escaping and distracting ourselves from the business of awakening—from changing and growing—we attract crises into our lives. This is ultimately for our benefit.

Because without a crisis, we just might stay stuck forever.

Remember, the dimension we are living in is duality. Duality is a limited, temporary reality which is not true reality. We can only reach—and live in—true reality, which exists at the level of our Higher Self, by going through this process of self-healing and letting go.

There are many spiritual paths that can lead to us to our deep self—our true center. These teachings from the Pathwork Guide take us there by going the most direct route—by facing our pain and transforming it.

Of course, duality, by its very nature, is always painful, regardless of whether we face our pain or try to avoid it. Why? Because on this level of reality, good always come with bad. In order to have pleasure, we must be willing to go through pain.

If we want to become happy, we must accept all our feelings.  

Our efforts to leave duality by embracing only one side of life, the good side, will lead to the collapse—the destruction—of such a faulty structure. The only true way to move through duality is by learning to accept all of it—the pleasure and the pain.

When a crisis comes along, it restores balance by destroying what is not built on the solid ground of truth. When we won't face into ourselves and resolve our problems at their root—which always live inside us—we are resisting the natural process of evolution.

Make no mistake, the evolutionary train is always moving.

Are you ready to get on board?

In Jill's Experience

I learned how to sew at a young age and by high school, I was making most of my own clothes. I enjoyed the creativity but not the fact that my creations often didn't fit well.

Turns out, learning to sew and being a seamstress aren't the same thing. Plus, the quality of fabrics I bought was poor. I was using my meager earnings from my job as a carhop, so I was cheap. The cheaper I could make something, it seemed, the better.

Arguably, the better word to use here would be frugal. But I hadn't evolved to that level yet. By my mid-twenties, I was basically cheap. It's not a coincidence that I also had so little sense of myself.

Early in sobriety, I heard someone talk about low self-esteem. I thought, "Are you kidding? I have no self-esteem." Truly, I had no sense of myself. The road of recovery, together with my unfolding spiritual path, have helped me fill in the blanks.

Today, I know what I like and that I'm worthy of having nice things. But I didn't know these things yet, when I was young.

It's easy for this pendulum to swing to the other side, where one lavishes themselves with gifts. To show, you know, just how much we value ourselves. Which, of course, is not any better than being cheap.

My journey to finding my true value—while at the same time, learning discernment about how to spend money—has not been a straight line. I have spent too much on some things and cut too deeply on other things.

Life, as they say, is a process, not a product.

I have learned to be cautious when I see "Sale!" Because I would accept far less than I wanted if the price was right. That left me with clothes, furniture or other items that I didn't really like, long after I had forgotten how much they cost.

Which doesn't mean I must pay top dollar to be happy. I am frugal by nature, and I often find items I value at a discounted price. But I also sometimes pay full retail for something that really appeals to me.

Self-responsibility is a piece of this puzzle. I have lived with tight finances for most of my life. I kept a careful budget for fifteen years, tracking where every dollar went. And I have also lived fairly comfortably.

I always pay my bills on time. And I have learned to spend more on things I will really enjoy.

Along the way, I discovered something important: the more I trust that I will have enough—that I am enough—the truer this turns out to be. The more I am willing to tend to my financial garden, the more fruit it bears.

In Scott's Experience

I have had many crises in my life. Some of them felt so big that I watched the fabric of my life unravel into loose threads and scatter in the wind. Those were gut wrenching.

The first big crisis was a split with my parents, one that remains unresolved. This feels tragic, in that the breaking point between us came from a simple misunderstanding.

They came to believe I had done something reprehensible. And they felt violated and betrayed. If it had been true, their feelings would be reasonable. But it was not true.

In that area, my behavior had been impeccable. Completely beyond reproach. And in their prosecution of me, I felt deeply violated and betrayed.

This did not mean that I had no part in the situation. My actions did play a role. It's just that they were far removed from what I was accused of.

It wasn't possible to work through the impasse with them. But there was a lot there for me to look at.

One realization was that the crisis had been growing for years. Things that I didn't address, that I avoided, or that I wasn't consciously aware of, built up until—wham!—our worlds shifted dramatically.  

I resolved to be much more proactive about leaning into life and relationship going forward. I searched out areas inside where I needed to be more consciously aware of how I was showing up.

This seemingly went well for years, until my first marriage ruptured. I could feel it getting shaky, but I naively believed my commitment to working through all the issues—mine and ours—would be enough to keep it together. I was deeply mistaken.

The entire way through that crisis, I was mined it for all it was worth. What wounds were activated in me? What hidden patterns had I not seen? What part did I play? As excruciatingly painful as it was—I wouldn't wish that on anyone—going through it brought unexpected richness and growth.

One of my best friends once described my life as being hurricane, after tornado, after tsunami. It is far more stable now. But I had to go through all the situations I created that weren't built on truthful, solid ground.

Today, in my relationship with Jill, I have the opportunity to avert crises in my—and our—lives. One example that she wrote about a few years ago was how I had gotten stuck transitioning from first-stage to second-stage Pathwork.

This transition is about the ego: what the ego is, it's role, and what it can and can't do. It's about discerning when and where surrender is healthy and necessary vs where and how a tighter grip on the reigns is needed.

It's something each person must do for themselves, because only the ego can make the shift into healthy surrender. But it's also very tricky, if not impossible to see without outside help.

Jill had to rap me on the head a few times for me to see what I had missed. It wasn't easy for either of us. In hindsight, that would have developed into a major crisis. Instead, it became a rich growing process that brought us closer together.