Book Review: The Four Agreements

Every once in a while, I read a book that really resonates with me. It gives me insights that are relevant to that moment in my life. I want to shout to everyone I know about how great that book is, but I do not. That same book might not have an impact on another person because he is different from me, or is just in a different place in life. The same, I suppose, can be said about any idea, or cause, or hobby. What might ring true for one person at any given time may not be what another person needs. We are all constitutionally different, and even universal ideas affect us to a greater or lesser degree depending on where we are in life.

With all this said, I am going to tell you about a book I read. Perhaps it will resonate with you; perhaps it will not. It is not a book I read recently, but it has stayed with me. The book is The Four Agreements by Miguel Ruiz. The premise is that if we follow these four agreements, we will find ourselves more in harmony with the world around us.

Before introducing the agreements, I would like to use a story to illustrate. Let’s say a father loves to fish, and he takes his young son to the mountains camping. He proudly introduces his son to the art of fishing, but his young son is more interested in skipping stones and soon loses interest. Instead of enjoying his son’s active boyhood, the father becomes despondent because he is unable to share his passion for fishing with his boy. The weekend is nothing like he anticipated. He becomes irritable, and finds fault with his son often throughout their time together. The son is confused by his father’s behavior, and assumes that it is his own fault. Instead of nourishing their relationship, the weekend has damaged it.

Let us look at this story in light of the four agreements. The first agreement is to be impeccable with your word. This is a difficult agreement to make with yourself. Words are powerful. They have the ability to create, destroy, heal, condemn, inspire, and corrupt. If the words coming from our mouths always reflect our integrity, and are used for the highest and best, then we are truly being impeccable with our word. Had the father in our story been more impeccable with his word, his son would have been nurtured by their interaction instead of being brought down.

The second agreement is to not take anything personally. Everyone comes from a different perspective. Nothing that anyone does or says is because of you; rather it is because of who they are. We each have our own reality within which we live, and remembering that helps us to not take anything personally. The father took his son’s disinterest personally, and interpreted it as rejection. When we cannot connect with another on something deeply vital to us, we need to remember that we all come from different perspectives, and in that way acceptance can be achieved.

The third agreement is to not make assumptions. Assuming you know what others want, or that you understand the intentions of others can lead to misunderstanding. We develop pre-conceived ideas about how something will play out, and when it does not go exactly as planned, we become discouraged. Asking questions and communicating with those around us helps to dispel assumptions. The father in our story had an idea about how the weekend should go, and it affected his ability to be flexible with the desires of his son.

The fourth agreement is to always do your best. Does that mean that we always need to be perfect and high performing? No, rather it means that we always need to do the best that we can do given our momentary circumstances. If we are sick, our best will look different from when we are well. Yet if we always do our best, then we will avoid judging ourselves and regretting the past. The father in our story will never be the perfect father who only does what nurtures his son, but he can certainly try his best.

The reason this book came to mind today is because I tried to make a loved one “go fishing” without success. I took their lack of enthusiasm personally, since I made the assumption that they would be just as passionate about what interests me as I am. Fortunately, the thoughts in my head about their “stubbornness” did not come out of my mouth, so the situation never escalated. I was able to gain some distance and reflect on the situation. Applying several of these agreements in my reflection gave me the perspective that I needed to dispel my ill feelings. If I can remember and apply ideas from a book that I read years ago, I put it on my list of personal classics. So here I shout!

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All in the Family: Vanity and Humility

This past week has been a study of Vanity and her poor brother, Humility. Vanity is the sister who preens with excessive pride in her appearance. Humility, on the other hand, knows that there are more important things in life, and deflects attention away from his outward show. Vanity made the choice to fill her mouth with sapphires with the promise of rich rewards in two years' time, but Humility must bear the burden of the discomfort in the unsightly interim.

Braces are a choice on my part. Not because I vainly decided one day that I wanted perfect teeth, but because I was told "Now or Never." Do it now, or never do it, they said. That is a powerful impetus for action in the now. I have already stocked up on enough past dental regrets to fill the empty sockets where my wise back teeth used to be; I did not need another. And why not? After all, it did bother me that the flash of a camera would reflect on one front tooth and not the other. Vanity won out under the pressure of immediacy.

The immediacy came unexpectedly. I sat down into the dentist's chair expecting to get my teeth cleaned, and left with the ominous news that my root canal failed and the front bottom tooth would need to be extracted in the next few weeks to avoid further bone loss. There was a war being fought in my very chin of which I was unaware. The next few days and next few doctors revealed that orthodontia would have to be completed before the implant, or never. Implants apparently don't move. Not only that, but the implant would need to wait until the teeth were moved to their proper place. Normally, they would move the root canal tooth with the braces, but my tooth needed to come out soon. Enter the pontic.

I asked the ortho consultant to spell that word; I had never heard the term "pontic" before. It is essentially an artificial tooth that is mounted on a fixed or removable dental appliance, in this case glued to a bracket of the braces and nestled between the teeth at the gumline. Pontic is also a form of the Greek language originally spoken in the Pontus area of the southern shores of the Black Sea. I think the consultant was referring to the former definition. Apparently, pontics are rare and endangered, and quite elusive. I had my tooth removed five days ago, and despite previous assurances to the contrary, I am advised to allow the "open wound" to heal further before the placement of the so-named Greek Pontic.

So here I sit, with a gap the width of Utah in my face. My tall bottom teeth, being the predominantly visible teeth when I speak, make me want to use words such as "hag" to describe myself. There is as much contrast between the cute little six-year-old with a missing tooth and the 42-year-old hag as there is with luscious hair on your head and the same clogging the drain. So speaks Vanity.

Humility on the other hand is the pragmatist. Gum and jaw bone health are the greater issue. Near-term aesthetics can be compromised for long-term gain. Humility will talk to strangers and be proud, knowing that the final remaining amalgam is gone, and dental purity has been achieved. Vanity will duck behind a cement pillar at the church festival to avoid an encounter. Even though I am becoming accustomed to housing the Mormom captial of the world in my mouth, and perhaps even my children are used to it, I feel as though I sport a neon sign inside my lip when I speak to someone new. I envision them revulsing without expression to spare my feelings.

I had the inspired idea of using orthodontic wax to fashion a tooth for short duration when I was in public. At first it appeared to work famously, and it actually did not look that bad. A miscolored tooth far surpasses a missing tooth. It's like that luscious hair, only in the hairbrush instead of the drain. The only caveat with this idea is its staying power. I endangered myself and my children while driving, as I kept checking the position of my wax pontic in the rearview mirror. Vanity is not the best at making good judgment calls. If I let her, she would go in public with a tight tshirt and no bra in an attempt to detract attention from her mouth, the wench. I drew the line on that one.

Vanity refused to sing at church, and mumbled peace to those around her. Humility tried to appease, assuring her of loved ones' continued devotion despite the map of our mouth. I listened to both, and Humility won out as I chatted with a dear friend out in front of the church. Naturally, I launched a preemptive strike, explaining my dental condition in great detail to evoke sympathy rather than repulsion. In the middle of our conversation, my waxing tooth decided to wane. I just plucked it out and tossed it in the grass. I think Vanity had had enough for awhile, and is hiding behind a pillar somewhere.

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Worry Wart

Sometimes I wonder if worry has a purpose. Legitimate fear certainly does. It keeps us away from the cliff, or prevents us from slapping our boss. Worry is the wet noodle of fear. Where fear is acute and pulsating in nature, worry is chronic and dull. It is a backburner emotion, rarely taking center stage. Where fear catapults us into action or deliberate inaction, worry freezes our ability to make a decision, or causes us to make small, petty decisions all day long.

Like a wart, after which worry is so aptly named, it is a useless appendage. It is not supposed to be there yet we call it our own. Excising a wart can obliterate it sometimes, but more often than not it will grow back with a vengeance in a different place. Or we let it be for years until someone points it out to us, when all along we thought no one noticed. If only worry were so obvious that someone who loves us might say, "Hey, take care of that thing! It's ugly!"

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