A few days ago, I wrote the following statements onto the inside of my left forearm:
Be impeccable with your words.
Don’t take anything personally.
Don’t make assumptions.
These are the first three of the four agreements listed in Don Miguel Ruiz’s book, “The Four Agreements”. I wrote them with a fine point, purple-hued surgical skin marker that I purchased on Amazon. Not for this purpose — I had bought a set of markers in anticipation of scribbling down swim meet information onto my daughter’s arm — but finding a second use justifies the expense of fancy markers when a plain ol’ Sharpie would’ve done the job.
At that point, I hadn’t yet finished the book, so it would’ve felt dishonest to write the final agreement. However, I’ve been reflecting constantly on these seemingly simple instructions, and I’m finding that the application of them in my life is a full-time job and then some. It really is a lifestyle change — in thoughts, in deeds, and in how I communicate with myself and the outer world. The constant vigilance required to observe and manage my thoughts requires a lot of energy, and it might be why I find myself needing a nap in the middle of the day.
According to the book, impeccability means “without sin.” It stems from the Latin pecatus, meaning “sin.” There is a religious bend here, because if you look up the definition of impeccability, you’ll find that Christianity and the impeccability of Christ comes up — but as a former Catholic and Sunday School drop-out, I can’t speak to this. But the author defines sin as anything that you do, feel, say or believe that goes against yourself. This means judging and blaming yourself for anything, with self-rejection is the greatest sin; but also includes the more mundane yet poisonous emotions of anger, jealousy, envy, and hate. Thus, in making this agreement of being impeccable, you intend to use your word (word being the force of creation, a tool of magic) in a way that is sinless and “in the direction of truth and love.”
One result is I am speaking a whole lot less than I used to. I am practically mute these days. Because when I skip out on gossiping, blaming, cursing and offering my opinion when unsolicited, I find that I don’t have a lot to say. Sure, there’s the low hanging fruit to avoid, like complaining about uncooperative weather, inconsiderate neighbors, or infuriating Trumpers. But I think this “impeccability” exists beyond griping about stuff I can’t do anything about.
There’s the seemingly innocuous retelling of information to a third party, but let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? It’s gossiping, and gossip is “the worst form of black magic,” and all black magic spread emotional poison. Yet, “gossiping has become the main form of communication in human society.” Say a friend tells me, at a chance encounter in the Trader Joe’s parking lot, that her marriage is falling apart and she’s been shacking up with her CrossFit instructor. Without this agreement, I would most likely (read: 100%) tell my husband about it; and possibly, unless I were given explicit instructions to keep it secret, I might even share it with another friend.
But now, mum’s the word. Bo-ring!
To be honest, I almost never get shared this kind of juicy gossip. Maybe it’s because my crew of friends are gentle souls, or everyone has already figured out that I’m a blabbermouth. But there’s plenty of banal, inconsequential things to remark on, judgments to be made, opinions to be foisted — all for the sake of conversation. So, whenever I catch wind of something remotely interesting, I ask myself, “Would passing it on be black magic?” (Yes, I ask myself this exact question.) If I evaluate the effect to be a net neutral or net negative, then I keep my lips zipped.
Another significant situation where I am saying a whole lot less is at home with my daughter. Let’s just say, there are things that I would like for her to do that don’t seem to come naturally or instinctively, like picking laundry off the floor, eating faster than a snail’s pace, or applying conditioner after rinsing off the shampoo. I would normally resort to nagging, “Why don’t you do so-and-so, you know that you have to blah-and-blah, so hurry it up already because we’re gonna be late!” At least for now, in this mindfulness phase — and I’ll say phase, because it’s too early to be called a habit or way of life — I keep my instructions to a minimum followed by an earnest or deadpan expression, depending on how frustrated I’m feeling.
It crossed my mind that if I were ever serious about tattooing this agreement onto my arm, but wanted to save myself some pain, I could sum it up in four letters: STFU. Thankfully, I have a higher pain threshold than that.
I haven’t even addressed how “being impeccable with your words” informs the things that I tell myself. If I am serene on the outside, it could be that I am so engrossed in my internal dialogue, monitoring the conflicting voices arguing for dominance. I plan to address that in a separate entry, or even devote the rest of the blog to it, because it’s the words and stories that I tell myself that create my reality and my future. I’m still trying to figure out what I want — or maybe I already know deep down, and I just need to cultivate the strength and fortitude to claim it, one beautiful word at a time.
As I continue on my journey, I’m sure I’ll come across other perspectives that will move me to grab that marker and jot down the next piece of course-altering wisdom to keep at forefront of my mind. While this book promotes the Toltec traditions, I am also drawn to Buddhist and Stoic philosophies — at least according to my YouTube feed. The inner world is vast; there is so much to explore. And though the ink eventually fades, the truths that resonates the most will leave an indelible impression on the roadmap of my life.