Life, someone once said, is about me and my broom. There is my sidewalk, and here is my broom. My task is simple: I take my broom, and I sweep my sidewalk.

If life were really like that, with each one of us sweeping our own sidewalk with our own broom, things would probably go pretty well. But as human beings we tend to fall into one of two camps.

The first camp is the know-alls. If I am a know-all, then not only am I an expert on how I should sweep my sidewalk, I'm also an expert on how you should sweep your sidewalk. So instead of staying on my side of the street, I come on over to your sidewalk. Now a variety of things may happen. Perhaps I start telling you exactly how you should sweep your part of the sidewalk. Or alternatively -- particularly if I see myself as a doer of good works -- I may start to sweep it for you. Regardless, there is going to be trouble sooner or later, because I have no business being on your side of the street.

The second camp is the incapables. If I'm an incapable, I don't really sweep my side of the street -- I dab at it with a pathetic expression on my face. Or I just sit down in obvious distress and make no attempt at all to sweep. Of course, incapables attract know-alls. It won't be long before a know-all comes over the street and starts "helping." This enables me to build up a nice, healthy resentment about the know-all ....

Step 10 forms an excellent basis for reforming know-alls and incapables. When we practice Step 10 continuously, we can sense when we're about to cross the road in frustration to help someone else to sweep right; we can sense when we're developing an attack of the "poor-me's" which will almost certainly tempt someone else to interfere with what we're doing (or not doing). Step 10 teaches me that this is my sidewalk, my broom, my job of sweeping, my life. I may meet with other broom-owners in 12-Step meetings to talk about the whole business, of course. But when it comes to doing the sweeping, I'm on my own.