Introduction – The Mirror We Keep Cleaning

[Opening theme music plays softly]

Welcome to The Dog Teachings Podcast, where we explore a practical, objective, and verifiable path to awakening—offering proven methods to cultivate lasting presence, clarity, and higher consciousness in your everyday life.

I’m Gary Eggleton—and today, we’ll begin with a deceptively simple question:

Which world are you living in?

Because while we move through cities and homes, meetings and conversations, scrolling, reacting, judging, defending… Most of us are not living in the world we think we’re in.

We think we’re responding to life. But really, we’re reacting to what is unresolved within ourselves.

Mahatma Gandhi once said, “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change.”

Truth echoes across traditions.

This episode continues the thread we’ve been following. In our last episode, Unspoken Mirrors, we explored how the words we speak expose the parts of ourselves we haven’t yet integrated.

Now, we take a deeper step—not just into what we project, but why we project. Why we get pulled outward at all. Why we look to the world for what can only be resolved within. Why we obsess over controlling circumstances instead of observing the self that suffers them.

We’re going to explore a profound teaching from Gurdjieff:

“There are two struggles: an inner-world struggle and an outer-world struggle… You must make an intentional contact between these two worlds. Then you can crystallize data for the Third World—the World of the Soul.”

Because the truth is, we’re not just in the wrong world. We’re in the wrong world at the wrong time. We inner consider when we should be externally aware. We dwell on our needs while others need our presence. We hide inside, when life asks us to show up. And we try to control what’s outside, when we haven’t even noticed what’s inside.

This is the inversion. And this is where our suffering begins.

In this episode, you’ll learn:

• Why misplaced attention is the hidden source of most suffering
• How we confuse inner and outer worlds, and reverse what belongs where
• What it means to build a bridge between the two—and how it leads to the World of the Soul

By the end, you’ll have not just insight, but a practice. A method for checking your attention in real time. And the first steps toward reclaiming the only world where true Work can happen.

Let’s begin. And let’s begin where the Work always begins…

Inside.

Section 2: Two Worlds, One Confusion

We live in two worlds.

One is obvious: the outer world—people, tasks, conversations, responsibilities, traffic, headlines, bills, delays.
The other is hidden in plain sight: the inner world—sensations, thoughts, tensions, emotions, reactions, inner speech, silent narratives.

These two worlds are constantly active. But we confuse them.
We respond to one, while blaming the other.
We think we're reacting to a person… but we’re really reacting to what they triggered in us.
We think we’re upset because of a situation… but we’re actually disturbed by our expectations, our unmet needs, our stored impressions from years ago.

Just like a tree has its own inner structure—roots, bark, cells—and still faces outer forces like sun, wind, and storms, we must understand our inner world is composed of our deeper nature, our attention, and our sense of self. Meanwhile, the outer world is the climate—unpredictable, sometimes harsh, but never wholly under our control. If we don’t strengthen our internal “roots,” we’ll forever try to fix the weather rather than nurture the tree.

This confusion between inner and outer is one of the most fundamental causes of unconsciousness.
And because of it, we often try to fix the wrong world.

We argue to correct what’s outside.
We try to convince others, improve systems, manipulate conditions.
We clean the mirror, thinking it will change the face.

But the Work teaches something radically different.

“Man must use what he has, not hope for what is not.” — G. I. Gurdjieff

What we have is attention.
What we have is presence.
What we have is the ability to observe our inner world clearly.

What we do not have… is control over life.

Gurdjieff spoke of this distinction clearly:

“There are two struggles: an inner-world struggle and an outer-world struggle. You must make an intentional contact between these two worlds. Then you can crystallize data for the Third World—the World of the Soul.”

The inner-world struggle is the effort to see—without distortion, without justification, without identification.

But to engage these two struggles, we must first recognize each world for what it truly is—one outside us, and one within.

The outer-world struggle is the effort to meet life as it is—without projection, resistance, or blame.

Only when these two struggles are brought into conscious contact can something new be born.
That something is the Third World—a place of stillness, clarity, conscience, and truth.
Not philosophy. Not belief.
But structure. Awareness. Balance.

The Soul is not found in solitude or silence alone.
It is formed through friction.
Through seeing clearly what is within, while meeting consciously what is without.

And that clarity only begins when we stop asking, Why is the world like this?
And start asking, Why do I see it this way?
And Who is seeing it?

Because the real Work does not begin with the world.

It begins with you.
Right here.
Right now.
In the world within.

Section 3: Misplaced Attention – The Real Cost of Living Out There

We don’t just live in the wrong world.
We live in it without knowing we’ve left the right one.

This is the tragedy of misplaced attention.

We scroll endlessly, half-feeling our way through headlines, distractions, and opinions.
We rehearse arguments that never happened.
We worry about futures that may never arrive.
We try to guess what someone else is thinking, or how we’re being perceived.
And all the while—we believe we are awake.
We believe we are doing something useful.

But we are not here.
And we are not now.

If not now, when? If not here, where?

When attention is misplaced, we are absent.
Our bodies may be in the room—but our awareness is somewhere else entirely.
In yesterday’s mistake, or tomorrow’s fantasy, or someone else’s imagined opinion.

This is what the Work calls sleep.
Not unconsciousness.
But a mechanical, reactive, inner displacement.

What Jesus referred to when he said, “Let the dead bury their dead.”
The walking dead—people who appear awake, but are not present in their own lives.

They are dreaming.
And the worst part? So are we.
Because not only are we caught in dreams…
We believe they’re real.
We feel justified, hurt, proud, ashamed—over things that aren’t even happening anymore.

Imagine waking from a vivid nightmare in which your partner confessed to betrayal—words you never heard, actions they never committed. Your heart pounds; tears sting your cheeks. You stumble out of bed consumed by anger and grief. All morning you avoid them at the breakfast table, replaying the dream’s accusations as though they were facts. Your partner, bewildered, asks what’s wrong—but you can’t explain, because there is nothing real to explain. By lunchtime you laugh at yourself—how absurd to punish someone for a dream—yet all day long you’re stuck in that phantom story.

Now imagine waking from a bad dream not of betrayal but of being utterly lost—running through dark streets, calling for help that never comes. You carry that same anxiety into your meetings, your commute, your conversations. Your shoulders stay tight, your thoughts keep circling that fear, and even a kind word can’t shake the shadow.

And then comes the most insidious part: we drag these waking nightmares into other people’s worlds. We demand they soothe our paranoia, validate our worry, fix the chaos we feel inside. We press them to respond as if our dream had real-world authority—angry when they don’t, hurt when they can’t, convinced they’re at fault for our unbidden fears.

We laugh at nighttime follies, marveling at how dreams trick us. But when the same delusions play out in daylight—draining others of their peace, pulling them into our unfinished stories—we hardly ever pause to see the nonsense in it. We remain asleep, expecting the world to wake up to our dreams instead of waking ourselves to reality.

And then it gets worse.

We don’t see others clearly, either.

We assume they are still in the mood we last felt from them.
We react to the “I” they showed us yesterday, unaware they’ve already moved on to another.

We respond from our “I” in the moment—colored by our mood, our story, our filters—
To their “I”… which may no longer be in the room.

And so two people can sit across from each other,
both reacting to something or someone who isn’t even present anymore.

For now, we see through a glass, darkly—a mirror of polished metal that distorts and fragments our view of reality. People never know the real us, and nor do we. 

All anyone perceives is the particular “I” that’s active in that moment—shaped by mood, memory, tension, and belief. 

We see others through these imperfect filters, and they see us through theirs. 

No one ever glimpses our whole being. 

To each person in our lives—friends, parents, partners, children, enemies —we appear as a different version of ourselves, and to ourselves we are only the voice speaking inside at that instant.

Whatever you think I am… that is what I am to you.

So why argue?

Why try to force others to see us “correctly”—when we ourselves don’t know who we are?

Use it.

Use their perception as a mirror.
Not to correct them, but to observe yourself.

Which part of you feels misunderstood?
Which “I” is being defended?

This is your opportunity.

As the Work reminds us in Gurdjieff’s Aphorism:
“Remember you come here having already understood the necessity of struggling with yourself—only with yourself. Therefore thank everyone who gives you the opportunity.”

Misunderstanding is not a problem.
It’s the curriculum.
It’s how we learn to see the invisible mechanics that run us.

This is the real cost of misplaced attention:
We don’t just lose ourselves.
We lose each other.

We become fragments, reacting to fragments.
Living in different times. Different filters. Different worlds.

And it feels normal.
Until something wakes us up.
Until we catch a moment of clarity.
A flash of presence.

And we realize:

The only moment where the inner and outer worlds can meet—is now.
The only place the mirror stops distorting—is here.
And the only person who can bring attention home… is you.

Why We Stay in the Wrong World

There’s a reason we stay in the wrong world.
It’s not just habit. It’s not just forgetfulness.

It’s because the outer world rewards us for being there.

It keeps us busy.
It keeps us reactive.
It gives us things to fix, to judge, to perform for, to prove.
And we mistake that activity for aliveness.

We’re trained from childhood to look outward—
To seek approval, validation, comparison, and control.
To measure worth by likes, performance, attention, applause.

And now, in the age of constant media, distraction is a feature—not a flaw.
Social media doesn’t just reflect our fragmentation…
It exploits it.
It monetizes our reactivity.
It rewards impulsive “I”s, and gives us an audience for every mood.

Even traditional media pulls our attention outward—
Toward global disasters we can’t influence,
scandals we can’t fix,
people we’ll never meet.

And all the while, our inner world is unattended.

We never ask:
What did that story stir in me?
What fear did that headline expose?
What “I” is trying to feel important right now?

Because to ask those questions…
means stopping.
Means turning inward.
And that feels empty at first—until you realize:

That’s where presence begins.

So we stay out there.
Because “out there” keeps us asleep—comfortably numb, endlessly busy.

But if we are to return to ourselves,
we must reclaim attention from the world that profits off our absence.

Not as a rejection of life—
But as a return to it.

From the right world.

Section 4: In When We Should Be Out, Out When We Should Be In

It’s not just that we live in the wrong world.
It’s that we live in the right world at the wrong time.

There’s a deeper confusion at play—an inversion of presence.
We are in when we should be out, and out when we should be in.

We inner consider when someone needs our external presence.
We stew on our own feelings when the situation requires outward sensitivity.
We disappear into memory, tension, self-image—when what’s needed is simplicity, clarity, availability.

And then—when something triggers us, when life confronts us—we lurch outward in reaction.
We blame.
We attack.
We withdraw or defend.
We turn our gaze outward to fix the discomfort—when what’s needed is silence within.

We switch roles.
We step into the wrong world, at the wrong moment.
And we make a mess.

“You must make an intentional contact between these two worlds…” — Gurdjieff

This “intentional contact” is not about becoming lost in either world.
It’s about knowing where you are and what’s needed.
It’s about seeing the world clearly, without being swallowed by it.
It’s about observing your inner state honestly, without being imprisoned by it.

It’s about becoming a bridge.

A bridge between two worlds.
A living link between reaction and responsibility, between emotion and action, between the ghost of yesterday and the reality of now.

And how do we build that bridge?

With attention.
With impartiality.
And with the arrival of something new.

The Objective Exercise is an advanced technique in the Work—a systematic approach that instills an impartial witness inside. Not another voice or thought, but a living awareness—one that does not react, does not project, but simply sees. It accelerates the creation of a watchful presence, bridging the gap between our intangible inner and relentless outer world.

When that presence is in the room, you know where your attention is.
You know what your intention is.
And you begin to catch yourself before the reversal.
Before you go inward when you should be outward.
Before you react outward when the work lies inward.

You begin to align.
You begin to inhabit both worlds rightly.
You begin to act from clarity—not compulsion.

And that is the beginning of sanity.
Of balance.
Of sovereignty.

The Work is not to stay inside.
The Work is not to disappear.
The Work is to be in the world—and not of it.
To meet each moment with the right attention, in the right direction, at the right time.

That’s the bridge.

That’s the beginning of the Soul.

Section 5: The World of the Soul – Where the Real Work Begins

There is a third world.
Beyond inner and outer.
Beyond reaction and withdrawal.
Beyond blame and buffering.

It’s not mystical.
It’s not somewhere else.
It’s not a place you visit or ascend to.
It’s a world that forms within you—a new center of gravity in being.

“You must make an intentional contact between these two worlds; then you can crystallize data for the Third World—the World of the Soul.” — G.I. Gurdjieff

The Soul is not a gift.
It is not guaranteed.
And according to Gurdjieff, it is not something you are born with.

It must be developed.

And to develop it requires struggle.
Not against others. Not against life.
But against the self.

Against the multiplicity of “I”s that pull us in a hundred directions.
Against comfort. Against inertia.
Against the need to be right.
Against the resistance to seeing ourselves clearly.

The Soul is built in friction.
In conscious labor.
In intentional suffering.

It grows when we see the truth of ourselves—and stay.
When we observe without judgment.
When we suffer our contradictions consciously, instead of blaming others for them.

But Gurdjieff warned us:
This is not an easy path.

“Blessed is he who has a soul, blessed is he who has none, but woe and grief to him who has it in embryo.”

Because to begin the Work and turn back—to awaken something in essence but never complete the development of the soul—is to live in a kind of spiritual torture.
A tension with no resolution.
A hunger that cannot be satisfied.

This is why the Work is not for dabblers.
It demands everything.
But it gives everything back.

The Soul, once formed, is not dependent on mood or memory.
It is not swayed by opinion or delay.
It is not drawn into identification or lost in reaction.

It is still.
It is conscious.
It is sovereign.

It sees what is.
It digests impressions instead of being swallowed by them.
It acts when action is required—and is silent when it is not.

And though it may be invisible to others, it is unmistakable to you.

You’ll know when you’ve touched it.
Not because you feel special.
But because you finally stop needing to feel special.
You stop defending.
You stop performing.
You stop explaining.

Because something in you has finally arrived.
It no longer needs to prove itself.
It no longer lives in the wrong world.

This is the seat of the Soul.
And it is not born in comfort.
It is born in fire.

Section 6: Reclaiming Attention – A Practice

The bridge between the two worlds is not built in theory.
It’s built in friction—then made real through practice.

And that practice begins with one small, powerful act:

Reclaiming your attention.

Because in every moment, something wants your attention.
A noise.
A reaction.
A comment.
A thought.
An imagined future.

And if you don’t choose where your attention goes—
it will be chosen for you.

This is the Work.

Not to control your thoughts, but to see them.
Not to manage your emotions, but to feel them fully—without being captured.
Not to silence the world, but to remain rooted while it speaks.

“Man must use what he has, not hope for what is not.” — G.I. Gurdjieff

So what do you have?

You have attention.
You have sensation.
You have the ability to pause, observe, and redirect—even if only for a second.
You have this moment.

And that’s where you begin.

The Soul isn’t formed in grand gestures.
It’s formed in moments like this—when we reclaim our attention.
When we resist being pulled into reactivity.
When we choose to see instead of react.
These check-ins may seem simple. But each one lays a brick in the foundation of something greater.

The Inner World Check-In - Self-Remembering

A simple practice. But profound.

1. Pause.
   Feel your feet on the floor. Your breath. Your body.
2. Ask:
   Where am I right now?
   Not your location. Your attention.
   Is it lost in memory? Projecting into the future? Hooked by someone else’s words?
3. Ask:
   What world am I living in?
   Am I inside—ruminating, narrating, defending?
   Or am I outside—blaming, performing, controlling?
4. Ask:
   What can I affect right now?
   Not later. Not next time. Right now.

Can I shift my posture?
Can I let go of the story?
Can I return to this breath, this body, this silence?

1. Ask:
   What would a higher response look like here?
   It might be stillness.
   It might be warmth.
   It might be walking away.
   It might be simply not reacting.

That is the first victory.

A Real-World Example

You’re in a conversation. Tension rises.
A sharp comment lands.
You feel your jaw tighten, your stomach clench.

Without the Work, you’d fire back.
Or withdraw.
Or replay it all later, over and over.

But with practice, something different happens.

You feel the reaction—and pause.

You might notice your heart beating faster, a flutter in your stomach, or tension in your shoulders—an immediate signal that attention has slipped away from the now.

You check in.
Where am I?
What part of me is speaking right now?
What would Steward do here?

And maybe, just maybe…
you choose not to answer.
You choose stillness.
You let the moment pass.

And in that moment, you see something:
That you are not that reaction.
You’re not the comment, not the trigger, not the defender.

You are the one who noticed.
You are the one who chose.

And that moment—brief as it may be—belongs to the Third World.
It belongs to the Soul.

Section 7: Conclusion – Where the Work Actually Happens

We are not here to change the world.

We are here to see it clearly.
We are here to stop projecting our fragmentation onto it.
We are here to stop scrubbing the mirror—and finally adjust the face.

Because the world we live in is not “out there.”
It’s the one inside—the one we carry with us into every interaction, every conversation, every thought.

That’s the world that needs attention.
That’s the world that can change.

The outer world will always move.
It will distract, overwhelm, challenge, surprise.
It will remain outside our control.

But the inner world—that’s where everything begins.
That’s where the friction is digested.
That’s where reactions rise.
That’s where the Soul is formed.

“We but mirror the world… As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him.” — Mahatma Gandhi

When you change your nature—
When you observe instead of react,
pause instead of push,
see instead of explain—
the world begins to reflect something different back.

Not because the world changed,
but because you are now seeing from somewhere else.

This is what Gurdjieff called the crystallization of the Soul.
Not an ideal. Not an escape.
But a structure.
A center of gravity.
A third world, born not from philosophy, but from lived attention.

And once that world begins to form—something else opens up.

We stop living in reaction.
We stop trying to be seen.
We stop needing the outer world to justify our value.

We move from performance to presence.
From justification to witnessing.
From defense to clarity.

And in that stillness, something unshakable begins to form.
Not withdrawal.
Not escape.
But a re-entry into the world from a different level.

The Work is not about hiding.
It’s not about transcendence.
It’s about coming back—with eyes open.
It’s about returning to life, not from your fragmentation, but from your unity.

And that is the beginning of real growth.

As the Work teaches: the real development of man only begins after the Soul is born.
Before that, it’s rehearsal. Echo. Sleep.

So… close your eyes.
Ask gently—not just once, but often:

Where am I?
Not your body.
Not your goals.
Your attention.

If it’s in the past—call it back.
If it’s in the future—let it go.
If it’s lost in someone else—return to yourself.

Because the only world where the Work happens… is this one.
And the only time it can happen… is now.

[Closing theme music rises softly]

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You don’t need to control the world.
You only need to stop being ruled by it.

Until next time—
Stay present.
Stay inward.

And remember:

The world you try to change… is already reflecting you.

Goodbye.

[Closing Theme Music Fades Out]