"What good does it do to be on a spiritual path?" I muttered. "Everything seems to just get harder." I was feeling very grumpy as I cleaned the house. My back ached as I hunched over, stroking the carpet furiously with the vacuum.

I trailed off as I started to really listen to my complaint. I followed the thoughts to an ache in my heart, boggy in my chest from several days of heavy stress. In my mind, I stopped and looked down the road these complaining thoughts lead to, as though darkly enchanted bushes and vines curled back to expose a way of thinking that would lead to the dark little town called No Good.

Lugging the vacuum to the next room, I discontinued the whining but decided that the question I had raised was worthy of exploration: What good does it do to be on a spiritual path, and what is a spiritual path, anyway?

As I continued to clean, I allowed my thoughts to sit with the questions.

I found my path in 1987. I was living in Los Angeles and was deeply unhappy; I smoked cigarettes, drank lots of wine with my friends, and couldn't sleep at night.

One day during lunch, as I was extolling the wonders of a hatha yoga class I was taking, a friend suggested I read Autobiography of a Yogi. Exuberant from my recent experiences of peace and relaxation with the yoga classes, anything having to do with yoga was vitally interesting to me.

I read the book that traces the life of the Indian saint Yogananda, and toward the end, he spoke of yogic techniques of concentration and meditation that lead to God-realization. By the end, I knew that Yoganadana's message was for me. For the first time in my life, I felt an exhilaration and certainty about a direction and practice perfect for me.

It is only recently that I have come to realize that being on a path, no matter how true and perfect, is not the goal. Dutifully practicing meditation, fasting, praying, and service can become ends unto themselves, as though the performance of these rituals are the only purpose, not the dissolution of selfishness and self-centeredness.

Many times my ego has taken refuge in the idea that by being a "good devotee" I could make deals with God; a sort of spiritual nepotism where my guru would tap on a side door to God realization and when it opened a crack, in deference to his integrity, he would whisper "she's with me," and I would slide quietly through.

Like a stubborn child, my self-interest has sought to use the teachings to justify and support selfish behavior. It is only through diligent introspection that my weaknesses are revealed and awareness expanded.

I put the brush attachment on the vacuum and raised the hose to the ceiling, swiping at dusty threads. The bristles flattened as they glided along the window ledges, nuzzling all the corners and edges. I liked to watch the little dust and bug specks disappear into the vibrating hose.

Through introspection, and loyally following the teachings of the path, I have consistently been confronted with the ugliest, most undeveloped parts of myself. Each time, the guidance and instruction has been there to help me change my thoughts, negative moods, and attitudes. It has given me tools and insight to break bonds of anger, self-pity, depression, and other limiting perspectives that become obstacles to awareness and happiness.

I flicked the switch and the vacuum hummed into silence. Putting the vacuum down, I scribbled the following definition:

Spiritual path: a discipline and instruction based on the teachings and life-model of a saint or realized being, designed to provide methods on how to expand awareness and understanding and purify consciousness by illuminating to the practitioner limiting and destructive behavior, thought patterns, and choices; a demonstrated system of thought and behavior that purifies the heart and mind of the practitioner through inner awareness and practicing virtue (e.g. forgiveness, compassion, unconditional love).

Sitting on the soft leather couch, I felt the tug of fatigue on my arms, and my head rolled back on the cushion. It felt good to close my eyes and let the facial muscles smooth and release into rest. The stress in my heart pulled at my attention, and I remembered a recent experience at work.

I sat in a small, dark meeting room in the center of a couch. The seat sunk low and my knees sat high, my dress tented over them like a flowery structure shielding the upper half of my body. I looked at a coworker sitting on the adjacent couch, talking at me in jabs with her chin up. She was angry and accusatory and I, too, was angry. My head throbbed and crashed as sharp and sarcastic thoughts sliced out and darted at her, making my eyes feel pressed and my vision narrowed.

Then I remembered the guidance of the path, and switched to silently praying and concentrating on love and forgiveness. This internal battle lasted the length of the meeting. Finally, finding some calmness, my colleague and I were able to move to unsteady agreement.

I left the room feeling sore and depleted. My head still throbbed, and the ache was garnished with the acknowledgement of finding within me a caldron of venom and antipathy. My head poached in the acid of angry thoughts, but my real sadness was the feeling of my own failure. I had found a place inside where there was no love or willingness to forgive.

The coworker, my perceived tormentor, was the instrument for pulling off an internal scab. For this, and the awareness, I prayed in gratitude and asked for healing and regeneration: "I am in error, please change me, transform this place of anger and ignorance."

I tried not to think about the meeting, seeking to avoid the knot of accusations that tightened in my head each time I wandered in that direction.

"Where is your love now?" my failure jeered.

Inside I sighed, trying to regain peace and composure — I've fallen off the path and need to come back into the currents of forgiveness and open-heartedness.

I pulled my head up from the couch and looked out the window. Resting my head back again, I concentrated on my heart, filling it with prayers and soothing it with full, even breath.

With commitment to a spiritual path, I have found that the inner light gets brighter and in its illumination, I see my fault, error, and weaknesses more easily. Sometimes this is difficult, painful, and discouraging, but this is the fruit of spiritual practice, and with the guru's help and words of encouragement and guidance, I can acknowledge what I'm feeling and strive to change.

This understanding pulls a warm blanket around my shoulders, and I don't feel alone in the struggle. Over time, through many challenges to keeping an open heart, I have become stronger, more patient, more compassionate, and better able to understand others. Following a spiritual path helps me feel empowered when things in life aren't going smoothly and there are trials, disappointments, doubts, or insecurities.