Honesty in the Work

Gurdjieff once said that to go around being absolutely honest with everyone was a form of insanity! And so it is. Imagine saying to your boss that she's a stuck-up egomaniac, or that your friend's bum does look big because she's too fat. Obviously, common sense would prevent the first, and affection the second.

But our society is founded on the Judeo-Christian ethic, and without honesty in most of our dealings we would not be able to function. A counseling adage says: Honesty without compassion is brutality - but compassion without honesty is sentimentality. We want to avoid both extremes in our dealings with others and with the wider world.

Individual choices aside, however, the Work does demand absolute honesty with ourselves. Without it we can't grow. We have to observe ourselves, unflinchingly, without criticism or judgement, so that we can see what we're really like. We learn to see which I's constantly take centre stage, which centres we prefer to use at the expense of others, and where we so easily fall asleep.

We don't judge, because that immediately shuts down observation. We would then fall asleep, pitting one group of I's (the inner critic) against the others, the I's we've observed and dislike. If we do this, we become trapped in an endless war, the various groups of I's all demanding victory. Here's where we need to bring in the Third Force of the Work: We simply look, and don't turn away our gaze from the truth we don't like. This is how we are.

A good Work teacher will show the student how to do this.

Very early in my own Work life, I was invited to supper with a well-known Work teacher in London. I dressed up in my smartest clothes and made sure my hair was looking its best. (Yes, I was very vain. This is one of the occasions that showed me just how vain I was!).

The teacher's wife, herself a high-up Work leader, opened the door to me, and as I passed through to the hallway I checked my reflection in the glass panel of the door.

Mrs C-M looked at me and smiled. She said, in her charming French accent, "You haven't been in the Work very long, I think?"

And immediately I woke up and saw my state. I blushed and felt thoroughly ashamed. Yet, at the same time, this shame was cleansing and liberating. For a few hours, at least, I was set free from a troublesome group of I's, and it felt very energizing.

This is how the Work works - gradually and gently, but very thoroughly. My own observations grew deeper the longer I worked, and I saw more and more how the various I's within me spoke in my name, occupied my thoughts, spoiled my life.

We're shown only as much as we can bear to see at the time. But again, a good Work teacher will ensure that we look at all centres, at all the aspects of our various I's, so that we get a complete picture and really understand what it is that we need to separate from. And then, we learn to let go of the identification that keeps us asleep, and we stay awake for longer and longer periods. Until the next time.

But seeing ourselves as we are is very painful. We have to put up with the knowledge that we're not enlightened, not perfect, not following Work teachings at anything like the depth we wish. We see that this is our state, for most of the time. And that is the Necessary Suffering of which the Work speaks - just that honesty, that unflinching acceptance of our nothingness, that admission that we cannot "do".

Only through this type of suffering can we make any progress at all. Yet there were always many I's in me that sought to deny what I'd seen because the sight was so unpleasant.

Marian, my Work teacher, had to remind me more than once that I mustn't exaggerate, either. Yes, I was powerless over these I's; yes, it was a low state to be in; but I was no worse than anyone else. And my pride, my vanity, certainly didn't like that remark!

It was similar to when my AA sponsor called me a "common or garden drunk"! Me? Common anything? How dare they! I was special, different, worse than other people. I was not like others. If I was a drunk, if I was vain, I was going to be the worst there was!

And each time, thankfully, the Work showed me the absurdity of this attitude and I could let go. But the need for self-observation and for complete honesty never abates. We have to see ourselves as we are, whatever it may cost us, and then accept it, and offer to God our remorse.

We see our own mediocrity, our evasions, our addictions. We see how many chances we have been given, and how we ignore them. We see that this fallen state is our own, and the state of most of humanity, and we know that wishing to be different won't make it so; only suffering can help release us from this cage of self-defeating I's that stop the light from getting in.

As Hildegarde of Bingen says, "I shall live forever through the true, pure attitude of remorse that I feel toward God".

This is the suffering that cleanses and heals, cutting through our lies, self-deceptions and muddles like a keen sword. Thank God for it.