Not My Children

Mother’s Day is coming up on Sunday. Have you noticed? If not, are you living in a cave in Tibet? We collectively shake our heads over the commercialization of this single day in the annual calendar. We may trivialize it but heaven forfends that we ignore the chance to publicly honor Mom. Because if we do, she will undoubtedly “remind” us.

There is more grounded discussion these days about the real cost and sacrifice in choosing motherhood. Where “this blessed event” was once wreathed in ephemeral images of ribbons and lace and sweet babies raising a dainty hand to their mother’s radiant face, the new narrative has become more realistic. The real underlying narrative of that earlier time was driven by economics and even harder necessity. Children were needed as much as they were wanted.

Parenting is tough. Motherhood is tougher. It comes with a host of unspoken expectations and “rules” that no mother ever fully gets until she gets there. Motherhood can be a bitch. (I like using BITCH as an acronym: Babe In Total Control of Herself). Nothing adequately prepares you for the literal gut punch that babies bring into your world.

Their demands are urgent and incessant. Thank god Nature takes you over and every fiber of a mother’s being strains to ensure her newborn’s survival and comfort. Thank god there is a multi-billion-dollar-a-year business devoted to the business of ensuring that that perfect little baby person you are holding remains that way and develops accordingly.

And when they don’t? Brace yourself for “Mother Guilt.” Or more accurately the mother of all guilt. After my son was born, I remember how sensitive I was to his every gurgle or whimper. If he started crying, there was a mental checklist to go through: “Is he hungry? Is he wet? Does his diaper need changing? Does he have gas? At a given time, it may have been any one or two or all of those. It is often said that babies do not come with instruction manuals which, if I may put my oar in, was very short-sighted on god’s part.

In my early days of motherhood, a wise and kind woman friend advised: “Never wake a sleeping baby.” The biggest psychological shift comes at the minute they hand that squirmy and wrinkled little bundle to you in the delivery room and you officially “become” a parent. For the rest of your life, your mindset will be: “Oh my God, if I don’t take care of this child, nobody else will. It’s totally on me.” My brother-in-law put this perfectly: “Parenting is unrelenting.”

The constant fussing and protection rather get in the way of a lot of parent-child relationships when they come of age. Especially if you are still treating them as if you need to cut up their food and wipe their mouths. I know. I’ve done it. Odd how sarcastic your grown-up baby boy becomes in public after he’s put on a few years.

I also learned – the hard way and in other ways – that neither of my babies was entirely “mine.” They have their own thoughts. Imagine? They have their own ideas. What? They may gently tease and cajole (constantly) to remind you that they are the new guard and you are the old. “Well, fetch me some tea then. Please?”

As they often have in my life, words helped me cope and understand. No one has done this more eloquently than my favorite poet Kahlil Gibran. Over the years, I have bought around twenty copies of his magnum opus, The Prophet. His books make beautiful and meaningful gifts. His poems cover the waterfront of life from birth to death and in between.

Take comfort from his wise words, fellow parenting people. If your babies are still with you, cherish every minute with them. Soon enough, you will be one of those parents who wistfully realizes their babies left the nest altogether too quickly.

Kahlil Gibran – 1883-1931

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.

     And he said:
     Your children are not your children.
     They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
     They come through you but not from you,
     And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

     You may strive to be like them but seek not to make them like you.
     For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
     You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
     The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

     Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
     For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

60 Today

Two months sure flew by. Much like life generally as we get older.

Today is the publication of my 60th blog post. I feel there should be cake and candles. And balloons. Or something.

I like honoring commitments to myself. Two months in, I see the value of these posts to keep greasing my internal writing wheels. Topics aren’t hard to come by. I’m pretty outspoken. But as dear old Ma liked to say, “Yes, she is outspoken … but not often and not by many.” Putting an original spin on those topics is the challenge.

In honor of this milestone today, I want to share some great advice I once received about getting older. I have collected many nuggets and some boulders of wisdom as I have wandered around this life. Then I either publish those nuggets or otherwise share them in the hope they will do somebody some good. Just as they once did for me. This post is twice as long a read as normal. Deserves every damn word.

If you have already achieved the status of eminence grise, enjoy. If you aren’t there yet, file this in your “Someday” file. Because – trust me on this – if you’re lucky, one day you will be old. It might be nice to have some guidelines lying around on how to do old well.

Great advice

This excellent list for aging is good advice to follow.

1. It’s time to use the money you saved up. Use it and enjoy it. Don’t just keep it for those who may have no notion of the sacrifices you made to get it. Remember there is nothing more dangerous than a son or daughter-in-law with big ideas for your hard-earned capital. Warning: This is also a bad time for investments, even if it seems wonderful or foolproof. They only bring problems and worries. This is a time for you to enjoy some peace and quiet.

2. Stop worrying about the financial situation of your children and grandchildren, and don’t feel bad spending your money on yourself. You’ve taken care of them for many years, and you’ve taught them what you could. You gave them an education, food, shelter, and support. The responsibility is now theirs to earn their own money.

3. Keep a healthy life, without great physical effort. Do moderate exercise (like walking every day), eat well and get your sleep. It’s easy to become sick, and it gets harder to remain healthy. That is why you need to keep yourself in good shape and be aware of your medical and physical needs. Keep in touch with your doctor, do tests even when you’re feeling well. Stay informed.

4. Always buy the best, most beautiful items for your significant other. The key goal is to enjoy your money with your partner. One day one of you will miss the other, and the money will not provide any comfort then, enjoy it together.

5. Don’t stress over the little things. Like paying a little extra on price quotes. You’ve already overcome so much in your life. You have good memories and bad ones, but the important thing is the present. Don’t let the past drag you down and don’t let the future frighten you. Feel good in the now. Small issues will soon be forgotten.

6. Regardless of age, always keep love alive. Love your partner, love life, love your family, love your neighbor and remember: “A man is not old as long as he has intelligence and affection.”

7. Be proud, both inside and out. Don’t stop going to your hair salon or barber, do your nails, go to the dermatologist and the dentist, keep your perfumes and creams well stocked. When you are well-maintained on the outside, it seeps in, making you feel proud and strong.

8. Don’t lose sight of fashion trends for your age, but keep your own sense of style. There’s nothing worse than an older person trying to wear the current fashion among youngsters. You’ve developed your own sense of what looks good on you – keep it and be proud of it. It’s part of who you are.

9. ALWAYS stay up-to-date. Read newspapers, and watch the news. Go online and read what people are saying. Make sure you have an active email account and try to use some of those social networks. You’ll be surprised what old friends you’ll meet. Keeping in touch with what is going on and with the people you know is important at any age.

10. Respect the younger generation and their opinions. They may not have the same ideals as you, but they are the future, and will take the world in their direction. Give advice, not criticism, and try to remind them that yesterday’s wisdom still applies today.

11. Never use the phrase: “In my time.” Your time is now. As long as you’re alive, you are part of this time. You may have been younger, but you are still you now, having fun and enjoying life.

12. Some people embrace their golden years, while others become bitter and surly. Life is too short to waste your days on the latter. Spend your time with positive, cheerful people, it’ll rub off on you and your days will seem that much better. Spending your time with bitter people will make you older and harder to be around. Be better, not bitter.

13. Do not surrender to the temptation of living with your children or grandchildren (if you have a financial choice, that is). Sure, being surrounded by family sounds great, but we all need our privacy. They need theirs and you need yours. If you’ve lost your partner (our deepest condolences), then find a person to move in with you and help out. Even then, do so only if you feel you really need the help or do not want to live alone.

14. Don’t abandon your hobbies. If you don’t have any, make new ones. You can travel, hike, cook, read, dance. You can adopt a cat or a dog, grow a garden, play cards, checkers, chess, dominoes, golf. You can paint, volunteer or just collect certain items. Find something you like and spend some real time having fun with it.

15. Even if you don’t feel like it, try to accept invitations. Baptisms, graduations, birthdays, weddings, conferences. Try to go. Get out of the house, meet people you haven’t seen in a while, experience something new (or something old). But don’t get upset when you’re not invited. Some events are limited by resources, and not everyone can be hosted. The important thing is to leave the house from time to time. Go to museums, go walk through a field. Get out there.

16. Be a conversationalist. Talk less and listen more. Some people go on and on about the past, not caring if their listeners are really interested. That’s a great way of reducing their desire to speak with you. Listen first and answer questions, but don’t go off into long stories unless asked to. Speak in courteous tones and try not to complain or criticize too much unless you really need to. Try to accept situations as they are. Everyone is going through the same things, and people have a low tolerance for hearing complaints. Always find some good things to say as well.

17. Pain and discomfort go hand in hand with getting older. Try not to dwell on them but accept them as a part of the cycle of life we’re all going through. Try to minimize them in your mind. They are not who you are, they are something that life added to you. If they become your entire focus, you lose sight of the person you used to be.

18. If you’ve been offended by someone – forgive them. If you’ve offended someone – apologize. Don’t drag around resentment with you. It only serves to make you sad and bitter. It doesn’t matter who was right. Someone once said: “Holding a grudge is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.” Don’t take that poison. Forgive, forget, and move on with your life.

19. If you have a strong belief, savor it. But don’t waste your time trying to convince others. They will make their own choices no matter what you tell them, and it will only bring you frustration. Live your faith and set an example. Live true to your beliefs and let that memory sway them.

20. Laugh. Laugh A LOT. Laugh at everything. Remember, you are one of the lucky ones. You managed to have a life, a long one. Many never get to this age, and never get to experience a full life. But you did. So what’s not to laugh about? Find the humor in your situation.

21. Take no notice of what others say about you and even less notice of what they might be thinking. They’ll do it anyway, and you should have pride in yourself and what you’ve achieved. Let them talk and don’t worry. They have no idea about your history, your memories, and the life you’ve lived so far. There’s still much to be written, so get busy writing and don’t waste time thinking about what others might think. Now is the time to be at rest, at peace, and as happy as you can be!

REMEMBER: “Life is too short to drink bad wine and warm beer.”

ED NOTE: My personal thanks to the anonymous writer of this great advice. If it was you, please let me know!

The Power of the Dog

I have said before that I will occasionally borrow from an author’s work that resonates or hits a particular chord in me. What follows is the poem The Power of the Dog by Rudyard Kipling. This little guy in the picture is the reason. If you own a dog, have ever owned a dog, lost a dog, lived with a dog, had a relative who owned a dog you were close to, or even considered having a dog in your life, this poem will resonate with you, too.

I am not one of those into the “my dog’s better than your dog” banter. My life is not centered around or consumed by this little fella. Yet. But in an attempt to appease the dog hunger in both my and my husband’s hearts created years ago when our beloved dog companions passed, we thought we’d foster for a little while to temporarily fill the void.

Snort. This guy was no sooner in the door than he was on my husband’s lap and nanoseconds later in his heart. A so-called “foster fail.” It happens frequently Maxine of Max’s Pet Rescue tells me. Maxine Hirsch has run her dog adoption rescue charity in the same Pet Smart location for the past 17 years.

Maxine is a transplanted Canadian lured like countless other fed-up,winter-challenged Northerners to sunny Florida climes. She has made this exclusive dog rescue (no cats) and her devotion to the homeless, stray, and displaced the center of her world. Many of her dogs come to her from owners who suddenly or otherwise leave the planet.

If there was an award for canine caring canonization, Maxine Hirsch would be a viable contender. She has a bevy of volunteers equally committed to the welfare of canines living in limbo. When Max can’t immediately find owners or fosters for her charges, she keeps them at home. That home has been known to occasionally be full to the rafters. Fourteen of them just this week. Plus her own two dogs.

Our foster fail came with a name we will not keep. As his character emerges, so will his name. For now, this seven-year-old almost eight-year-old mixed breed (Bichon and Pomeranian) is simply called Dog. What we do know is how loving and gentle and love-hungry he is. He’s found a good match.

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) had a special bond with his dogs. In this poem, he shares the joy a dog’s loyalty and devotion brings, but bids you consider a dog also has the power to break your heart when its life comes to an end. Oh well. We’ve been warned.

And what, you might ask, has this got to do with Writing A Book? Not a damned thing unless, of course, you will agree that writing is about life with all of its unexpected twists and turns and that is one of life’s finest domestic manifestations. Herewith, an ode to those heartbreakers.

The Power of the Dog

by Rudyard Kipling 

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless, it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Enough

I remember the first time I had Zabaglione with work colleagues in Toronto. This delectable custard-like Italian dessert made with egg yolks and sweet wine was the epitome of sophistication to my naive young eyes. In the afterglow of a delicious, multi-course chef-prepared dinner with my brilliant radio producer colleagues, I luxuriated in my excitement and place. I had arrived.

Fast forward forty years. Mid-career, I remember how rare the sort of night I had last night was. No dinner plans or evening events to attend. Nowhere to go or make an appearance “for career reasons.” No early morning meeting to prep for. No waste of the precious hours before bedtime consumed with worry about the work week ahead.

We ordered a half-and-half pizza. All meat for him. Hawaiian for me. And yet again, the debate about whether or not pineapple belonged on a “real” pizza pie. Whatever. I want what I want. Given the explosion of take-out gastronomical choices these days, a heated discussion about the pros and cons of pineapple on pizza was pretty tame. Imagine. Having pizza and beer and it wasn’t even the weekend.

As we get older, we get to have more of these “nights in.” Presumably, we have enough coin to splurge on a pizza and beer occasionally during the week. More importantly, we now have enough time. We also have the perspective to look back and realize how good we’ve got it.

I sometimes laugh with chagrin at how taken-for-granted simple pleasures were when we were young. I also laugh because we thought bigger and better things were perpetually in store for us. Pizza and beer were “just” pizza and beer. Important business dinners ahead, perhaps. Plans to go to a new and trendy restaurant where all the “In” people hung out. I no longer take simple pleasures for granted.

At one time, we absorbed the reported goings-on at Studio 54 in New York City like thirsty camels. The cachet of stories about “beautiful people” and the “in-crowd” and everyone there being “on trend.” Those who mattered had “access.” Those without “access” didn’t matter at all. These are among the oldest rules of sales and marketing. Make things you wish to sell both alluring and inaccessible. Desire is key.

All of this comes to mind as we repeatedly see people caught up in and falling for the same old razzle-dazzle about chasing “the good life” and what that means. Can fake eyelashes and fingernails get any longer? Can bling get any blingier? Not to mention, the cars, the clothes, and the Grey Goose.

I’ve finally figured out that the good life is what we decide we want it to be. We seem to inevitably fall back on the old standards for happiness eventually. Good friends and good company. A warm and supportive family (whether of blood or of friends). People we like and trust. And the usual menu of adequate financial resources to stave off worry and want, good health, little pain (emotional or physical), and something to look forward to each day.

As I watch the ceaselessly striving today, it saddens me. The brass ring they are chasing is more ill-defined and elusive than it ever has been. The ultimate question becomes, when is enough? I have seen many and even been one of those people who got what they wanted only to regret what they had wished for. Or wondered if getting what I thought I wanted was worth what it actually cost.

It calls on us to regularly check in on our lives for our level of happiness and self-satisfaction. A form of emotional maintenance. Are we doing what we love and feeling well most of the time? Are those we love and look out for doing and feeling well, too? If not, why not?

It is a call to keep an eye on what is fundamentally important to us. We then need to protect what that is. For me, the end-state I sought was inner peace and contentment. Enough challenges and projects to keep life interesting, of course, but to steer well away from that which threatened to upend or derail my state of calm. I wanted people in my life whom I could love and who would love me. I was once not at all sure that could happen.

Fingers crossed that my apple cart is not upset without warning, If it is, I rest easy in that conviction that if the unthinkable happens, I am better prepared to weather those storms than I once was. I just need to hold fast to the mast.

The question I often asked when I was younger was what is enough? I am grateful to have landed in a place in my life where I can look around me and say with gratitude: this. More important is being able to appreciate the good in the life I am living while I am living it. That’s progress in my little world.

Sayin’ Ain’t Doin’

My beloved daughter just returned home after visiting for a week. So many feels.

I write this blog primarily to share what I’ve learned about personal healing. And to eventually capture all of that learning in a book, of course. Intellectually, I know a lot. But navigating fraught emotional waters with actual human beings is a whole other ongoing challenge. I still have lots of trauma and triggers inside me. Turns out, so does my daughter.

She is at a different age and stage than me. Duh. It is the way it is supposed to be. She is a smart, ambitious, accomplished, and interesting adult. But she is a much younger adult who has had an entirely different life experience than me. Kindly, she backs me up when I say she has a much better relationship with her mother than I had with mine. Frankly, it wouldn’t have taken much.

I started early on the healing path in my children’s life. The marriage to her father broke down in fairly short order after their arrival. The consequences were devastating and endure. When I moved my two young children (6 and 4 y.o.) from the East Coast of Canada to the West Coast over thirty years ago, I immediately enrolled them in a community program for children of divorce called, Caught in the Middle.

I didn’t like that their conversations with therapists were confidential. I believed that knowing what they were talking about with those strangers would help me better meet their needs as a mother. That hope was quickly shut down. Session disclosure was against the rules and ironically, it helped break down my habitual patterns of triangulation.

At some point in my academic studies, I learned that “triads” were the most stable – if dysfunctional – of social relationships. Three individuals involved in a triad – I learned – are the “perpetrator,” a “victim,” and a “rescuer.” A perpetrator would somehow “hurt” a “victim” who would then run to and disclose that hurt to a “rescuer” who would then comfort and validate the “victim’s” hurt feelings that the perpetrator caused. Then the “rescuer” and “victim” would form an alliance against the “perpetrator.”

So the pattern of issues or hurts went round and round and was rarely resolved. I have learned resolving issues is best handled by working it out with the person you hurt or who hurt you. Triads prevent this by deflecting the energy and the issue to someone not directly involved. So the wheel of hurt keeps going around and around.

The most public (and tragic) example of a triad in my generation was the relationship that Bill Clinton’s young paramour Monica Lewinsky had with her so-called friend, Linda Tripp, about her “boyfriend” troubles. Triads in normal daily life rarely generate such widespread interest or put a Presidency on the line. However, triads that play out on a smaller scale can be just as hurtful and damaging.

[It amused me that a Google search on “triad” revealed a more common usage of the word today for “polyamory” or “throuples” (a three-person romantic relationship). Gotta tip my hat to them who can manage that. It was everything I could do in my romantic career to keep one relationship on the rails. But I digress.]

Love is action. I was desperately confused about that for the longest time. Of course, I was desperately and generally confused about what love was, period. The sexual component was fairly easy to operationalize. But all the other love stuff intimidated and confounded me. Caring for someone by actually “taking care of them” and putting their interests above my own was a stretch for the traumatized child I was, dealing with my own history of inadequate care.

Then my babies came. Words are inadequate to explain how profoundly one’s life changes when a baby comes into the picture. In their earliest days, I was utterly unprepared and overwhelmed by the experience, and beyond. Motherhood has been a step-by-step, learn-as-you-go proposition. My beliefs about love were upended after having children.

It wasn’t made any easier for me by my discovery that I had married an incompatible partner with his own set of unresolved childhood issues. When I was a little girl and into adulthood, my parents frequently said, “I love you.” But their actions did not consistently match those words. I became wary and suspicious about the utterances of love and was careless about using them myself.

During my daughter’s visit – which was largely fabulous and filled with joy and gratitude and fun – we had a couple of glancing blows on triggers we didn’t – okay, I didn’t – even know were still there. With both my daughter and my son, I have tried to mobilize actions to back up words of love. Her visit – and her presence on the planet – reminded me that there is always more work to do in a loving relationship that wants to heal, grow and be truly loving.

My brother-in-law put it best: “Parenting is unrelenting.” No matter how old they or you are. Duh.

A Horse, A Horse

King Charles III was coronated yesterday. In the midst of it, this well-known Shakespearean phrase came to mind. This historical ceremony confirmed the role of the so-called “highest-born” in the realm of the British Commonwealth. A king of “all the people.” Okay. So the Crown has been a little tarnished lately. And they don’t so much as “reign” over us as provide tabloid news fodder and open kindergartens. But we loyal subjects still sing in unison:

Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the King!“

Switching out “Queen” for “King” in that anthem was something of a psychological jolt at first. The British monarchy – and more specifically Queen Elizabeth II – has been a mainstay of my life being a good Canadian “subject,” and all. The death of the Queen last year felt like the loss of a dear and beloved – albeit distant and incommunicado – aunt. It is impossible to overstate in the American context how ubiquitous her presence was in the lives of many in the British Commonwealth from the mid-20th century to her death last year. She was a source of continuity and stability globally, even if the role she played was largely ceremonial.

If there is a better example of an idea creating reality, the British Monarchy is one of the greats. After the nasty Battle of Hastings back in 1066, Great Britain and her “protectorates” has been governed by a series of familial inheritors to “do their duty” and “serve” the people for several centuries now. High and low-born is a social construct, of course. It has a lot to do with who has the most money and who has the most toys. All social constructs develop to serve a purpose. Social constructs last until they are no longer of service.

Whether the British Monarchy is any longer of value in the 21st century is a question asked with more intensity than ever before. In the midst of all the pomp and ceremony around crowning Charles King. there were and are widespread rumblings of discontent and discussion about turfing any affiliation with the Monarchy in many countries.

Richard III’s anguished cry in the Shakespeare play of the same name speaks to the limitations of power and being “high-born.” The rulers ultimately “serve” the will of the people. More than a few monarchs have lost their heads over neglecting that fact.

The wealthy elderly often learn this lesson the hard way. There is a point at which all of the money in the world will not give us what we need and want most. More time on earth. The warmth of family. The chance to make peace with the wrongs we have committed in life.

At the end of the day, even the most powerful people are just human beings. Still, it is hard to imagine that they have needs and emotions like the rest of us. But this current iteration of the British Monarchy has played the role of frail humanity and family dysfunction in the past 50 years like a badly written but enduring soap opera.

Death marks a transition in everyone’s lives. Princess Diana’s death rocked the world and Monarchy to its very core. It was a chilling denouement to a story that was already rife with subterfuge, deceit, infidelity, and inherent tragedy, in its planning and its execution.

Now just as that drama has more or less sunk into the annals of history and Charles and Camilla were settling ever deeper into comfortable domesticity, Prince Harry goes off the rails. A story not unlike the story in other “commoner’s” dysfunctional families, if on a grander and much more public scale.

Richard III called out in a moment of need for all he would have given for what he needed the most at the moment. We often use the phrase in jest these days, declaring we would “give our kingdom” for a cup of coffee. It is silly and untrue.

But it speaks to the urgency of how we feel when we need what we need. Life’s work is sorting out what those needs are for us and nurturing their sources so we do not go without. In life or at the hour of our death. Whether we are kings or queens or paupers. The work is the same.

The Four Agreements: 4/4

The fourth agreement in Don Miguel Ruiz’s book is Always Do Your Best.

I shoulda-coulda-woulda learned this lesson much earlier. My inflated ego made constant judgments about the level of job I was in, my academic ranking compared to my peers, and my general circumstances. There were two negative consequences to that faulty thinking.

First, I couldn’t fully relax and enjoy the job experience I was having. Even though I didn’t have a clear idea of what level I should be at, I was convinced the current level was insufficient. For my ego. Never mind that I was an inexperienced kid who was at exactly the right place for her age and stage. I didn’t have the internal psychological framework to assure me that where I was was just fine. For now.

Second was the truth that by feeling somehow superior, I didn’t always do the best job I could. I was, by times, baselessly argumentative and demanding, and difficult. With my coworkers and with my bosses. I had some notion that I was “above” what I was doing. Today, I feel considerable shame and humility for that bratty attitude. It put people off (especially employers) and I had a hard time fitting into the work crowd.

There are a raft of things I could say to contextualize my situation. I was a traumatized child. I often came to work hungover in my twenties in the heydays of my hard drinking. I once showed up drunk in the morning at my TV job still drunk from partying the night before. Add “actress” to my job resume right next to “on-air reporter.” I hadn’t yet heard the term “personal work,” let alone begun to do it to wrestle my demons into submission.

Ruiz says that always doing one’s best helps turn the first three agreements into habits. If we internalize and follow the habits of taking nothing personally, being as honest and clear as possible with our word, and making no assumptions without verification, our best is a natural byproduct.

One’s “best” effort will change depending on the situation, but no one needs to feel guilty about that. In any situation, there are many factors working with or on us that we cannot control. But always doing one’s best builds immunity to guilt and judgment and self-recrimination. In effect, Ruiz’s four agreements are a prescription for taking personal responsibility.

Learning that lesson matures us as we let go of the youthful tendency to blame our parents and other external circumstances, such as money or culture, or religion. or race, for our misery and difficulties. The only way out is through. By doing our best, we can look back with pride and satisfaction on the wake we have left in our life.

In what looks like a nod to the philosophy of “pursuing your bliss,” Ruiz adds that one should not act exclusively for rewards in life but because one is doing what one wants to. Rewards will naturally follow.

I’ve always liked the saying: “Find work that you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” Still good advice.

The Four Agreements: 3/4

The third of Don Miguel Ruiz’s agreements is: Don’t Make Assumptions

This agreement did not just speak to me. It shrieked at me.

Most people have heard the colloquial advice about assumptions. “Never assume. It makes an “ass” out of “u” and out of “me.”

Assumptions are dangerous because if an individual believes an assumption is true—then they think and act accordingly. Relationships based on assumptions are more likely to end and end badly. Assumptions cause unnecessary drama and suffering. Communicating clearly and asking questions is key to avoiding assumptions and living happily.

In the culture I came from, assumptions were rampant. I would even go so far as to say it was the norm. Blind assumptions were the way it was in my family of origin. Even more so in the bureaucracy, that I worked in for a time. Power dynamics and informational sleight-of-hand were the bread and butter of seasoned bureaucrats. They hoarded knowledge like squirrels hoard nuts to hang on to their power and position.

Digging deep to really understand an issue or problem was not common in government for reasons of time, resources, or politics. Politics is the realm of the “quick win” where “perception is reality.” People’s fortunes within the bureaucratic structure rose and fell with their ability to “second-guess” their bosses and meet their needs before the needs were even expressed. And primarily, of course, to cover your ass.

This system worked to ensure career longevity for many people. I met people who had no real transferable job skills beyond their ability to “play the system.” Long-timers came to understand what every new Cabinet Minister needed and poured their efforts into meeting them. That approach did little to allow time to dig deep and devise comprehensive solutions to complex social issues. Bureaucrats’ shelves were littered with the detritus of “policy directions,” “briefing books,” “feasibility studies,” and “position papers.” The safest position was to appear to be doing something while doing nothing at all. Now that is artful.

Operating on assumptions was rife in my family. After the fact, I would hear about tearful sessions behind closed doors after something that someone had unthinkingly said or done was deemed “insensitive.” The rationale for this runs along the lines of “If you really loved me, you would know what I need (and what hurts me) without me having to say it.” Lovers often do the same. As if loving someone automatically conveys psychic powers and mind-reading abilities.

There is cowardice in making assumptions and a type of wilful ignorance. I watched this regularly in the small town I came from. Whole groups of people would make assumptions about someone and then conduct themselves in accordance with what they assumed. The protagonist was rarely consulted for an explanation or clarification. I often heard someone described as having said or done something egregious. When I elected to check it out with the transgressor, I often learned that the person had not said or done any such thing. If they had, their true intentions had been completely misconstrued.

I am reminded of the fable of putting the bell on the cat. Overconfident, self-important little mice devise the solution to put a bell on the cat’s collar to warn of the enemy cat’s approach. The only issue is “Who will put the bell on the cat?” When people live in an environment of powerlessness, talking about solutions is a way of achieving social cohesion without actually taking steps or being able to do anything about it.

I often experienced this in my journalism career. I was often able to get “ungettable” interviews just by making a phone call to someone that everyone “assumed” would not talk to the press. I had a few phones hung up on me, to be sure. But I was often pleasantly surprised by those who wanted to talk. To get their side of the story on the record.

Assumptions can create a host of false barriers and hurt feelings between people. Rather pointless and self-defeating actually. But then, cowardice can make fools of us all.

The Four Agreements: 2/4

The second agreement in Don Miguel Ruiz’s book is Don’t Take Anything Personally.

I love this. Of the four agreements, this one taught me the most and armed me with a healthier strategy for how to interact with the world. The trouble in taking others’ words personally, one forms an agreement with those words, and they influence one’s beliefs and actions. We all do it. Think about how you can ruminate pointlessly over a nasty remark from a complete stranger you encounter during the day.

Ruiz says we shouldn’t even take the voices in our own heads personally. Tuning in to conflicting thoughts and opinions leads to confusion and chaos if we take them seriously and act on them. By letting go of the impact the random opinion others have on us and our own inherent need to be right, we can move toward a greater sense of happiness and freedom.

I’ve certainly been called some things in my time. Haven’t we all? I have an unsmall personality and I am not particularly shy or retiring. My “extraversion” (code for not knowing when to keep my mouth shut) has broken barriers in my life and broken relationships.

I am human and I have withered under an angry verbal barrage from time to time. Most especially, of course, from my mother. Who knows you better after all? But also from frustrated friends or colleagues or even complete strangers. The learning I took from Ruiz’s second agreement was that what was directed at me wasn’t necessarily about me.

On the other hand, I have also had extremely flattering and complimentary opinions said and written about me. The “truth” of who I am is somewhere in the middle. I know now that by analyzing my own beliefs – true and false – and coming to a sense of self that is comfortable for me, I have become someone I am happy to wake up with every morning.

Ruiz ties the logic behind this second agreement to ego. The fact is, individually, we are just not that important. We are all replaceable. We are all disposable. I did not like learning that. More important that realization threw my sense of who I was and what was important in life into chaos.

I look back now with a little compassion and a lot of humor at how self-important I thought I was. I muscled my way into situations to make sure people were aware of my importance. I sought out awards, situations, and job positions that rewarded and reinforced my inflated sense of self. I take some comfort in that I was not alone on this approach in my generation of women. I would even say that for a time as a young person trying to establish herself, it may have been necessary.

That strategy was a total cover for how insecure and little I felt. Also, it was simply absurd. Sure, I had some marketable qualities but the life I was living was something of a sham. I was a mess and living a double life where my resume expanded as my personal life imploded. Emotional hamburger internally is how I described it. I knew “something” wasn’t “right” but had no idea what to do about it.

I was operating in a world where options that are now commonplace were nonexistent or stigmatized. Therapy? For the wealthy neurotic New York intelligentsia set. Personal problems? They are all defects of characters or because God has not chosen to bless you. Trauma? You’re talking about shell-shocked war veterans, right? Well, yes, but sexual assault and being bullied is traumatizing, too. As is living with an addict (or addicts in my case), witnessing physical violence, divorce, neglect, suicidal ideation, and all the other elements of a profoundly dysfunctional home life.

It is not a perfect science. Life is never easy. But it is infinitely better than my beginnings would have suggested it could be. Ruiz clarified and laid out more clearly what I should and should not be responsible for. Losing my sense of personal importance turned out to be more gift than a loss. It allows me to listen respectfully to what others say, internalize the good bits and spit out the bad.

It also makes me a more genuine part of humanity than someone who is “better or less than” others. Both self-perceptions are delusional. Learning that was among the most important lessons I’ve had. I am still reminded of it frequently.

The Four Agreements: 1/4

The first agreement in Don Miguel Ruiz’s book is: Be Impeccable with Your Word

So many people aren’t. Lying is commonplace and accepted these days. Expected even. People “exaggerate for effect” and “tell white lies” to gloss over deficiencies in themselves or some product they are selling. Politicians are among the least trusted professionals on the planet. The whole smarmy George Santos fiasco (is he gone yet?) took the falsification of credentials to despicable new heights.

Ruiz examines the power of the word, how it’s misunderstood, and how most people use it to spread emotional poison. Being impeccable with one’s word means taking responsibility for their own integrity. But he advises against judging or blaming oneself when we fall short. Life is a marathon after all, not a sprint.

Following this agreement faithfully, Ruiz claims clears emotional poison from one’s life by building immunity to the negative words of others, leading eventually to a place of peace and joy. Being honest and truthful can also neutralize emotional poison in oneself by saying only what is true for us – to ourselves and to others.

I don’t know about you, but I hate hurting people. I had been badly hurt in the past by words and the bad behavior that accompanied them. I know how that pain feels and don’t want to inflict it on others. For the longest time, I had no sense of my personal power so had no sense of how my words were taken by other people. Especially those close to me. In my youth, I said the words “I love you” too often and too casually, without considering their impact.

Worse, I had no clear concept of what “Love” actually meant. The recipient wasn’t getting much value from my declaration, to begin with. But neither I nor they realized how flakey my words were until it was too late. They became emotionally involved with me as one might expectedly do when they believe someone loves them.

If I eventually withdrew my “love,” (attention, support, time, benefits), both me and my erstwhile “lover” suffered. They suffered for the loss of someone they had come to believe loved them. I suffered for having spoken important words without full respect for another’s feelings.

There was a time when words were so respected in society that “a man’s word was his bond.” Contracts were made on a handshake after a discussion where terms were mutually agreed. Was that a perfect system? By no means. But it does speak to a time when words were valued more highly than they are now? It does.

Contracts are a lawyer’s mainstay and an anchor for the involved parties to cling to when dealings go awry. But even the most well-written contract provisions can be woefully inadequate to the business at hand. In family law, court orders can do more harm than good. A judge may order a mother and father to “co-parent.” But if they have what it takes to do that successfully, they likely could have made the marriage work.

So much which is sacred has been cheapened and derogated. Sexuality. Spirituality. Life itself. And even words. I have come to see words as delicate threads like spiderwebs that keep us attached to each other within our communities. But spiderwebs are very easy to destroy. So we live in a world where cynicism and pessimism rule. We expect people to lie to us. We expect them to let us down.

Ruiz shows us that we don’t have to do that. We can train ourselves to only say what we believe to be true. We can suppress words we don’t feel will help someone. We can keep our thoughts and opinions to ourselves until they are solicited. That may be easier said than done. But I can say from personal experience, that doing so leaves a lot less hurt feelings in your wake and gives you a lot less to regret in your life. For those reasons alone, it has been an “agreement” I have happily tried to pursue.