In this dualistic world, we often swing from one wrong side of something to the opposite, also wrong, side of it. This swinging allows us to gradually find the middle, more truthful way.

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 that 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 we can look at the life of Jesus as an example of healthy authority. We can also notice our reaction to the name Jesus, since many people have strong reactions to it.

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 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 painful, regardless of whether we face our pain or try to avoid it. Why? Because on this level of reality, good always comes 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 we lavish ourselves 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've had many crises in my life. Some of them were really big. It was like watching the fabric of my life unravel into loose threads and scatter in the wind.

One was a split with my parents, which I know many people can relate to. I won't go into any details, largely because it is still unresolved. But I have been looking deeply at my part.

I now see that I made a lot of mistakes with them that make it harder to resolve our conflict. At the time, I didn't understand what was happening. I just reacted to them. I didn't like how I was treated, and I didn't feel heard. In the end, I felt betrayed.

I could only see what they did wrong, but I couldn't see my part.

One thing I have come to understand is my "earnest mask." The mechanism is that I essentially withdraw and stop being present. I don't talk about what's going on or how I am feeling. I just stop trying in the relationship and instead phone it in.

Then I cover this up with a pretend version of myself that tries to do everything correctly, so that I look like I am a good person.

Looking back, there were a lot of things I didn't address, things I avoided and didn't pay attention to. And I did this for years. I didn't realize how damaging this was.

I had no idea how my emotional defenses operated and how they affected other people. Likewise, I had no understanding of how I reacted to other people's defenses. My behavior contributed to creating a tinderbox waiting for a spark.

One day, I had this enormous misunderstanding with my father and stepmother. That's all it really was, a misunderstanding. But they felt violated and betrayed. And they reacted. Then I felt violated and betrayed.

For many years, I told myself that my behavior had been impeccable, because it really seemed that way outwardly. And I was so angry about their betrayal and harsh treatment of me. It felt completely unjust.

Years later I discovered there is a deeper justice involved in how betrayal works. I thought that what mattered was our actions on the surface. Not so.

I began to see that what drove their reactions to me wasn't just what I had done on the surface. There were hidden, unconscious motivations and beliefs bubbling underground in me that I couldn't see.

As an aerospace engineer, one of my strengths is an ability to look at complex problems from many sides, to uncover how the whole system operates. In this situation, there were so many moving pieces, and I was so blind to my part, it has taken me decades to sort the pieces out. I am still sorting it.

First, I had so many deep wounds I didn't want to feel. A lot of this stems from the shock and grief of my mother dying. As a result of trying to avoid this, I showed up in my earnest mask, not present to my life and the people in it.

But underneath all this, I desperately wanted people to validate me. And this is what drove so much of my painful family experience. I needed them to see me—to see how "good" I was—but I couldn't even see myself.

In fact, I needed them to see me so badly because I couldn't see myself.

For much of my life, this painful rift with my family has felt like a house of mirrors to me. Slowly and meticulously, I have been working to unpack all these layers of excruciating pain inside me. To take down all the walls I put up to try to protect myself from these awful feelings.

At one point, a friend described my life as being a hurricane, after tornado, after tsunami. More and more, I see how I helped create all these storms in my life.