Thanks to the challenging writings of Emanuel Swedenborg and George Gurdjieff, I can no longer put up the pretense of being a special or a good person.
Heck, I write spiritual books—doesn’t that say something about the quality of my inner world?
Nope. I am actually making daily discoveries of how much rottenness I have been protecting from the eyesight of others.
My egoistic intentions—through imaginative and cunning—have only manifested themselves in more deeply hidden and cleverly disguised mannerisms. This fabrication (man-made or “hand-hewn” bricks) is what I used to build up my personal importance to reach “greater heights.”
Swedenborg and Gurdjieff have helped me to recognize this kind of spurious pattern of ego-building lying deep within my psyche. I had become so good at hiding it (especially from myself) that I unexpectedly found myself living on the top floor of the Tower of Babel.
It is a long way down when one starts to incorporate this new level of sincerity. But now I only want to write books that will help everyone uncover their own charade of niceness (so I won’t win many popularity contests).
My understanding of spiritual growth has drastically changed over the years. It is not about adding more external acts of goodness to my life and outwardly helping others, but in identifying and (with the help of the Lord) rooting out my deepest deceptions (anyone can be outwardly helpful).
When I participate in that kind of inner cleansing, my outer acts of charity become more and more innocent and genuine (and I can terminate the lease on my “expensive” Penthouse apartment).