Archives for posts with tag: the four agreements

Today I’m feeling pretty low, waking with a vicious headache, and memories of last night. I don’t care for drama so exploring the details isn’t on the agenda today. Is it enough to say I’m human? That I have moments of self-doubt, moments when things that made so much sense some other day don’t make sense right now? Times of struggle and heartache? I am, after all, grieving… that colors life somewhat, doesn’t it? I’m asking because, at 51, sometimes I don’t feel like I know the answers to some of these questions.

...There's still sky overhead...and possibilities.

…There’s still sky overhead…and possibilities.

Lonely in a crowd? Yeah, this has some of that feel to it. Uncertain about the future? Yep, I’ve got that, too. I feel sad. I feel challenged by life’s curriculum in a similar way to what I imagine it might be like to wander into a college physics class at some tender age, without any academic preparation, and being told my grade depends on the day’s pop quiz. My partners are good people. This morning the tears on my face and the splitting headache I woke with go hand in hand with my doubt that I qualify to make that team.

Death sometimes has an unexpectedly insistent way of making us look closely at our own life. What do I want out of mine, truly? Where am I headed? What is the trajectory of my choices, and where are they taking me? Is this what I what? Is it what will best meet my needs over time? I don’t have good answers to these questions either, and I feel adrift. Oddly, this does not make me eager to see my therapist, instead, a profound urge to ‘leave it all behind’ builds, but I don’t know what I really mean by that. I’m too old to ‘run away from home’ and the sorts of baggage I have are neatly chained to me, going along for the journey everywhere I go.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

This one’s difficult. My skilled brain tries to tell me I will be okay, that “this too shall pass”. Mindfulness… well… yeah. It’s getting to be easier and more habitual. Mindfulness in moments like these doesn’t often do much to ‘make it stop hurting’. Opening my own heart to this experience of hurting and making room for it, and being compassionate with myself are not the simplest of tasks – particularly after an evening of being castigated for imperfect execution of practices that serve me so well other times, other days. So, I sit here allowing the tears with a certain irritated resignation, and doing what I can to be kind to myself, and understand that it’s all a lot to take, and that being human is the nature of my experience. I focus on me, my experience, what I need from me to feel nurtured and supported. There’s that emotional self-sufficiency piece rearing its head again, too. Would I cry less if I met more of my own needs? Maybe tears are what I have to count on? Where is the line between working through grief and trauma appropriately to heal, and ‘being a victim’ – is that a matter of perspective? I feel like I was headed for summer vacation and the teacher just handed me Moby Dick, War and Peace, and Atlas Shrugged and said “see you in two weeks”. Being a student of life and love doesn’t really end with ‘graduation’ – there’s always more to learn. I kind of wish I weren’t a ‘C student’, though, this shit is hard.

So. Today I am alone. In a sense, I always am; we are each having our own experience. That can be a very lonely thing, sometimes. It is, right now.

I’ll spend the weekend out in the trees, in the stillness, breathing, safe, content; I may not ‘figure it all out’, but I’ll get a break from everything that hurts except the stuff I carry with me. That I just have to deal with. It’ll be a few days, maybe, before I write here again. I won’t have access to the internet – the trees don’t use Facebook, they simply stand in stillness, content. Or something poetic like that. Anyway. I guess I’ve ‘run out of words’ for now.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only 'do over' we get; a new day.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only ‘do over’ we get; a new day.

No affirmations, today, they would feel hollow to me this morning – and if nothing else, I am genuine. Today I hurt.

Sunday already? Yesterday managed to feel both busy and leisurely, fully occupied and still including many lovely chill moments of stillness and contemplation. Sometimes I find that harder to manage when the house is filled with people, and I have to untangle shared or overlapping agendas and somehow still take care of me. The occasional solitary day, evening, or weekend often serves, as much as anything, as an opportunity to check in with myself and ensure that my needs remain my priority, and that I’m not allowing them to be swept away by someone else’s moment, or needs. Does that sound ‘selfish’? It did to me, too, for a long while – and well beyond when I’d moved past ‘selfish’ being some sort of secret swear word. I sometimes struggle with a hell of a gap between intellectual understanding and putting something in practice; mindfulness practices are a powerful way to close that gap.

This matters more than I understood when I started.

This matters more than I understood when I started.

This morning the day will be gently balanced between the things that must be done – adulthood is filled with those – and the things that I will do to support, nurture, and indulge myself, before another work week begins. I have a list. Keeping – and efficiently using – a ‘to do list’ is an important detail for me, otherwise I just don’t remember moment to moment what it is I intended to do. I rarely forget what I am doing mid-task, but while I am completing task A, however mindfully, I am highly likely to completely forget the existence of tasks B-Z altogether, or perhaps just one or two of them, and in that case without any predictable pattern to what is forgotten. Important things are as easily forgotten as unimportant things. Things I offered to do for someone else, that they are counting on, are as likely to be forgotten as something I promised myself, and that my heart is set on in some other moment. It can be very frustrating for me – I don’t doubt it is maddening for others. So. A list. This morning my list is filled with all manner of practical things; my partners are away, and no one likes to come home to a house not ready for the next week. I know I don’t care for that, myself.  Similarly, I dislike the experience of suddenly giving up on everything important to me, myself, to rush through a quantity of house work in a day that would impress a superhero if it got done in week; it drives anxiety, panic, and discontent, and I inevitably end up not doing some one thing that will prove to be the only thing the person I wanted to impress ever noticing. Fuck that. I prefer to clean as I go, as much as I can, and tidy up in a calm and mindful way, doing my best, and being satisfied with that. Simple basics that I would usually get done on a weekend will get done today, and I’ll still paint. I’ll do some nice things for each of my partners, small stuff that matters to them, each, as individuals, and I’ll still take care of me, too, ensuring that my needs for the upcoming week are met as well as the needs of my partners. It’s enough.

An opportunity to reflect in stillness and solitude.

An opportunity to reflect in stillness and solitude.

Next weekend I am solo camping. Learning to take care of me has also meant a frank acknowledgement of how my PTSD affects me in some circumstances that previously I would have just gritted my teeth, and endured things, hoping for the best and trying not to be a jerk, or lose my temper. Next weekend is the weekend of a local airshow. Rather than take Rx pharmaceuticals for the anxiety that the military aircraft overhead for 3 days causes me, I’m going camping and taking advantage of the time to invest in other needs. Fall camping feels different from summer camping. I’ve continued to build strength and bring new life to old skills. I’m eager to tackle more forested trails, and meditate under the stars. Camping is more practical, too, than a weekend getaway in a coastal cottage, and I am far less tempted by the world. I’m eager to have the work week behind me so I can head into the trees – so much so, that I am already entirely packed. lol. I’ll finish work Thursday, load my gear into a vehicle, and go.

See, the thing is, my Big 5 relationship values aren’t just about building relationships with other people, they are simple basic good treatment of humans; I try to apply them to myself, too, through my actions, my thoughts and my words. Can you see it? Let’s take a look together…

1. Respect is one of my Big 5. I respect my need for solitude to recharge, gain perspective, and invest in me creatively and emotionally by allowing myself to take advantage of rare solo days and weekends utterly guilt free, and without over-committing to things other people would like to have, or have done.

2. Consideration is possibly the most important of the Big 5; without Consideration, how is Respect even possible? I am considerate of my needs and experience, and of others, and by taking that approach I ensure I do small things that matter without stress – like taking out the trash and not overlooking the small trash cans in each bedroom, or work area, and ensuring the dishes are done and all put away before the house fills with people again, and making sure the household linens are washed, dried, and restocked in bathrooms and linen cupboards. Small things matter, and generally fit neatly between things I am doing for me – like writing, painting, meditating, or yoga. When I consider my own needs, and the needs of my partners, mindfully and in gentle service to hearth and home – without excluding me from my loved ones in my thinking – so much more of what matters gets done, and far fewer projects that don’t really matter end up on my list. When I am treating myself considerately, I also know when to stop and accept that I’ve done my best, confident that my partners will be content, and considerate of my limitations in return. (That’s the ideal, anyway… and when humans are human, and fall short of the ideal? Ah, yes…)

3. …Compassion makes the Big 5 because we’re all quite human. Lacking perfection I turn to compassion, for myself and my very human limitations, for my loves and their own humanity. They will return home tired, and possibly very late in the evening. It’s so easy to get home, relieved just to stop driving, and quickly unload the car into the living room without taking a look around. It’s easy to collapse into bed after a shower, and an exciting weekend, without taking a look around. To wake, thoughts still buzzing from events, and eager to share those…still not taking notice of the small details that make a household ready to welcome travelers home, or understanding that the reason everything is lovely and tidy is that an actual person took time out of their own agenda to  make it happen. Compassion is what lets me smile without a thank you or a word of acknowledgement, and gives me a secure heart, content that the effort mattered regardless of a lack of words. Compassion is what I bring to my own experience, a gift to me from me, if I feel a moment of hurt or doubt if I feel ignored or lacking in importance. I will have done my own best, which is the only piece that is really ‘about me’.

This serves me well, again and again, on the path of treating myself, and others, well.

This serves me well, again and again, on the path of treating myself, and others, well.

4. Reciprocity is a big deal for me, and it makes my Big 5 because it is powerful. Reciprocity speaks up when I prepare for my solo camping next weekend with an equal priority to any piece of housework intended to make a traveler’s homecoming comfortable. I matter to me. Reciprocity is what results in my own return home next week being as comfortable as my partners’ homecoming at the end of this weekend, now. Ideally, we exert equal will, and invest our efforts in each others needs in a way that is consistent with love and loving. Reciprocity doesn’t necessarily mean “I did dishes Tuesday, so you must do them Wednesday” – it could mean “I really hate doing dishes, and seeing them done promptly is a big deal for you, and I know you detest cleaning the bathroom, which I don’t mind – if you’ll take care of the dishes, I’ll similarly keep the bathroom clean.” and then investing a similar effort in those tasks.  Reciprocity in a relationship is pretty easy to determine, too; look at sex. Any sex act that one person benefits from far more than the other and isn’t balanced by ‘returning the favor’ in some clear obvious way is a decent indicator that the relationship itself may not be reciprocal. Some people may not need reciprocity in their partnerships…for me it is non-negotiable, and the lack of it is a strong early warning indicator a relationship will end, although I’ve actually only ever had one relationship, one partnership, that was truly reciprocal, on a relationship defining level.  It was such an incredibly positive defining characteristic, that all my relationships since that one are measured against that standard, and it is what I look for in partners, and strive for in my own actions.

5. Openness makes it all work. Openness to conversation, openness to sharing emotions, openness to shared experiences, openness to considering another view-point, openness to trying new things; openness is an act of will. If my relationship is failing, openness brings my concerns into the open. If I am struggling with my own experience, openness allows me to share it frankly and be comforted. If I feel disrespected, or that my needs are not being considered, openness brings will and words together to express those feelings compassionately and with consideration, and the understanding we are each having our own experience. Openness is even there for me if I must consider that my needs are not met to the point of having to consider other choices in order to respect myself, or treat myself well. Openness is important.

"Some Distant Sunrise" 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas w/glow 2014

“Some Distant Sunrise” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas w/glow 2014

The Big 5 are good relationships values, but they are not the only relationship values. Other people make other choices. Your results may vary. What I have found, myself, is that perspective and balance are important, too; my relationship values are what they are, and if I don’t value myself enough to also apply them to my experience with myself, and show myself the same courtesies I show others, or expect them to show me, the outcome is resentment, anger, and discontent. None of that sounds good to me at all. This weekend I’ve been taking care of me, treating myself well, and enjoying the one relationship I can’t escape, or walk away from, and I’ve been doing it using the same Big 5 that I practice in my relationships with others. It’s been nice.

Am I just stalling? This is a pretty long to-do list… 😉

One choice. One change. One moment.

One choice. One change. One moment.

Today is a good day for action. Today is a good day to get a few things done. Today is a good day for mindful service to hearth and home. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to change the world.

My sleep this past few days hasn’t been great. It’s been restful enough, which is sufficient, but it has been interrupted, each night, with periods of wakefulness of varied length, sometimes resulting in actually getting up, puttering around the house quietly, or writing. Last night I woke, at 2:33 am, and after meditation didn’t return me to dreamland, I got up, had a cup of tea, touched up a couple of the new paintings, and went back to bed. I never really went back to sleep, but found letting my consciousness wander in and out of brief dreams adequately restful. By 4:42 am all I could think about was having a cup of coffee, and got up ahead of the alarm.

The solitude doesn’t cause me any stress. I enjoy it a great deal. My recent camping trip, too, it was the solitude – when I had it – that seemed to meet my needs. On that occasion my usually-at-home partner had expressed concern that I might not enjoy being alone out there in the trees and assured me I could ‘call any time and get picked up’. I remember being quite astonished, and as the conversation continued, it was clear that somehow my partner didn’t ‘know me’ on the matter of solitude – and we’d been living together for some time. She directed my attention to that first month or so we all lived together, and the occasion that she and my traveling partner had gone to San Francisco for a couple of days, shortly before or after New Year’s Day, as I recall.  I had a bad time of things and was mid-freak out, when they called to inquire if I would mind if they came home early – out of boredom.

Moving along past ‘how does someone find boredom in San Francisco?’ to the point I’m actually getting to… We really are each having our own experience. My partner stored the recollection of those events as somehow indicating I had difficulty being alone. My own perspective is very different, because I was there. I desperately needed the comfort of solitude on that occasion. We’d all recently moved in together. All my routines and habits were completely disrupted and I wasn’t sleeping much. My PTSD had flared up partly due to the disruption of the move, partly due to finding out about my TBI – and what a big deal that has actually been all along – and partly due to the heinous gang rape in New Delhi that December that set the media on fire with some unstated competition to report as many rapes as possible, in as much graphic detail as culturally permitted; I could not escape my own history and I was in incredible emotional pain and feeling suicidal despair. As if that weren’t enough, the emotional volatility in the household in general resulted in receiving no emotional support for the state I found myself in, no one to talk to, and lacking any tools to really do anything about it. I was at the breaking point of what limited emotional resilience I had to work with. They went on their trip. I found myself alone ‘at home’ in what was at that time still ‘a strange house’ – everything in disarray from the work of moving two additional adult humans and all their accessories into space fully occupied by one. In the moment they departed, I took a deep cleansing breath and began to relax. It didn’t last. In the next moment, it was clear that I didn’t know how to operate the stereo. Or the video. At the time I didn’t have a laptop of my own, and couldn’t access the household network. My phone wouldn’t connect to the internet over wi-fi, and I couldn’t recall the password. The frustration of not being able to simply turn on some music launched me into a private emotional hell built on the hysteria and pain of a lifetime of chaos and damage, and lit like a bonfire soaked in gasoline with that tiny match of pure frustration, and the shame of being utterly incompetent at 49. I spent the next 24 hours in tears, aside from a couple of hours of fitful napping.  I soon found I didn’t know where much of anything actually was – including most of my own stuff, and didn’t know how to work the alarm system in a house I just moved into. For hours I stalked through the house screaming at myself, crying, storming with frustrated child like rage… because I couldn’t find a pen, to write with. I felt trapped, and frightened.

At that point in my journey, I knew nothing of stillness. I didn’t understand meditation – my only experience with it was intended to increase focus and concentration, not build awareness and mindfulness, and it hadn’t done anything whatever to address the needs of my heart. I had no way to move past my rage. I was trapped. Desperate. Unwilling to reach out for help – because not only did I not know where to turn, I lacked conviction that any help was even possible.

When they arrived home, prematurely, I was relieved.  There was music. There was order. Things could be found. I didn’t understand at the time that my partners – neither of whom has been with me more than a small number of years – didn’t understand what was going on with me. (The weeks that followed developed in a painful way for many reasons. I went from ‘feeling suicidal’ to sitting down and planning things out, and making a list of ‘loose ends’ that needed to be wrapped up ‘before I left’.  Their emotional experiences with me over issues that developed around differences in communication styles and practices resulted in behavior that I try to avoid thinking about these days, it was that damaging and hurtful. I was battling coming to terms with my TBI, and doing so mostly without any help or support beyond a casual occasional brush off intended to reassure me that ‘it doesn’t matter’, and prevented further conversation about a topic that was uncomfortable for them, too.)

What got lost in all that was what was up with me, why, and some really important things about my experience, and who I am. I enjoy solitude. I don’t enjoy frustration. More importantly? I am the sum of all my experiences and choices – not just the ones any one friend or loved one has been around for.  Looking back it is more obvious, at least to me, but as with any small review mirror – I am the only one who sees that view.

Today, as I look ahead into a future that doesn’t yet exist, and enjoy the stillness of a quiet morning of solitude, I gently explore that past hurt in my rear view mirror. Something to share, a matter of perspective, a past moment that so clearly illustrates that however close we are as people, whatever our intimate relationship with each other, however connected we are, our perspective and understanding is filtered through our own experiences, our own choices; we create our view of the world using our own limited understanding of events and people. We don’t just create our own narrative, we create the narrative we use to understand others, too, and sometimes without getting input from the main character of the tale. A poor strategy for compassion, or understanding. The Four Agreements nails this one too, with “Don’t Take Anything Personally” and “Don’t Make Assumptions”.

So basic.

So basic.

Today is a good day to ask caring questions. Today is a good day to be compassionate. Today is a good day to recognize we are each having our own experience. Today is a good day to remember that investing in joy and contentment requires acts of will, and choices. Today is a good day to change the world.

I’m waking up, this morning, on the other side of change. It’s interesting to feel it  unfolding in my experience; different actions result in different outcomes. My appointment yesterday was somewhat intense, challenging, very intimate and connected, and…personal. It didn’t feel ‘bad’, or cause me great distress. That alone is a change in my experience. The everyday practice of taking a few moments for real stillness, for calming my mind and my heart simply as an exercise in mindful presence, and doing it regularly, has definitely changed my emotional resilience, and reduced my level of panic when I am overwhelmed, which happens less easily, and less often. Progress.

When I choose to behave differently, I change the way I interact with the world, and potentially open new opportunities and choices for people involved in my life. It isn’t about ‘fair’ or who did what first. It is very much about making real choices to be who I most want to be, to willfully and deliberately choose to honor my values, and act in accordance with them. It is about who I am, and how I treat fellow humans along the way. I create the world with my choices and my actions, or at least that small piece of it that revolves around me. Sounds so simple. Figuring out those pesky choices is the challenging bit. I’m definitely certain, at this point, that repeating ineffective behaviors again and again is not going to change an unappreciated outcome.  I’ve also got substantial empirical evidence to support the idea that treating myself badly limits my ability to treat others well, and that treating others badly generally results in two outcomes: one, people react and behave in life in accord with the way they are treated by others, and two, it tends to set up a perception of ‘who I am’ in their experience that isn’t very pleasant when reflected back on me in the way they choose to interact with me later.

I don’t always see my progress. I definitely experience my challenges in a visceral and immediate way. It can make for a pretty negative experience without the balancing effect of a daily meditation practice. At least, that has been true for me. (Your results may vary.) What I bring to my experience, myself, definitely colors that experience, affects my understanding of my experience, and filters it through the context of my chaos and damage – often in spite of efforts to be more present in the moment, more ‘now’, more mindful, more aware – and less ‘think-y’.  I guess that’s why it is ongoing ‘practice’ with no ‘mastery’ in sight.  This morning is a little different from other Thursday mornings, largely because Wednesday evening had a different outcome; we made different choices, my partner and I. I am more aware of small everyday differences in my choices, decision-making, and experience, these days.  It’s more important than I understood that I, myself, acknowledge and validate my small successes from within; it’s part of that ’emotional self-sufficiency’ notion, and it feels pretty good to enjoy this experience of recognition, alone in the dim light of dawn over my morning coffee.

There’s a lot of violence and tragedy in the world. Humans killing humans. Humans treating other humans badly. I can choose differently, myself, and although I am ‘just one person’ – I am also, actually, one person making choices, and that matters. I can choose, myself, to be non violent. It makes a direct and immediate difference in every one of my relationships with individuals, every time I make that choice. That is true of each of us, each time we make any one choice we do make; it matters, and it changes the world. I suggest, based on my own experience, that when we choose actions that result in violence, that result in overstepping the boundaries of others, that result in actions which violate another human being, or our own values, it also changes the world – and every one of those choices is an act of will.  Choose differently, if you want a different outcome.

Beyond grieving, beyond acknowledgement, what will you choose to do to make it better?

Beyond grieving, beyond acknowledgement, what will you choose to do to make it better?

So, here it is Thursday, and I’m headed to  work. Today I won’t bomb any school children in their sleep, or violate boundaries willfully. Today I won’t steal, murder, or deliberately put other human beings in harm’s way. Today I won’t use my ideology to justify the maltreatment of others.  Today I will not go to war. Today I will not justify bad acts with my experience of anger. Today I will not make choices that worsen the circumstances of others in order to profit. There are probably very few among us who ever do most of these things – but I snuck in a couple that I know many of us do choose. It’s pretty easy to casually use ideology to justify mistreating someone whose ideology is different; the ease of it doesn’t make it excusable, or less ugly. Certainly, many of us have used our own subjective experience of anger to excuse treating someone else badly, and my observation is supported by the plethora of news articles about domestic violence, and police brutality; the reality  of it doesn’t excuse it. Wheaton’s Law truly covers the basics;  that and The Four Agreements could easily ‘save the world’… but there are choices involved, and ideology and anger can get in the way of good choices.

Today is a good day to treat human beings with humanity. Today is a good day to love and to help. Today is a good day for compassion. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

It’s not a demand, really. “Always do your best” is the fourth of the Four Agreements. I keep coming back to it, however many learned tomes I immerse myself in, however many notes I take, or cross-references I make, however many relevant observations or light bulb moments come to me from hours of study, or therapy. I regularly find myself considering, again, the Four Agreements.  (My traveling partner had recommended The Four Agreements, a few weeks into our association, and before we were lovers. I often think of him with love when I am reading it.)

The basics, and a good starting point.

The basics, and a good starting point.

If I had truly mastered these, would I face so much struggle? Would I have hurt so much for so long? If they were nothing more than saccharine platitudes, would I find renewed relevance so frequently, or so often find myself thinking ‘yes, of course’ in contemplation of a missed opportunity to practice one or more of these simple ideas?

I have suggested, and shared, and gifted this small book so many times… As with anything else, there is a verb involved, and the will, choices, and actions of the individual. I think there is a relevant ‘old saying’… how about ‘you can lead a person to knowledge but you can’t make them think’? Oh that’s not it, is it? It’s ‘lead a horse to water…’, but not so very different, truly. 🙂 We don’t live each others lives, and ideally we don’t make each others choices, or undercut each others opportunities for growth; it’s nice to have help once in a while, but the life we live, the path we walk, the choices we choose belong to us alone. A person can read The Four Agreements as many times as they care to, and never benefit because they chose differently, or did not act on what they read. We have the amazing freedom to choose poorly, any time, to be short-sighted, to hold on to grievances, to struggle, to hold on to resentment; we choose who we are. We create our experience.

A rainy day flower. Beauty needs no excuse.

A rainy day flower. Beauty needs no excuse.

Yesterday, in spite of being ill, was a very pleasant day. It was a pleasant day in spite of one partner having to come home to work because construction noise in the office was so significant it was causing major stress. It was a pleasant day in spite of my traveling partner being very focused on preparing for the next trip away. It was pleasant in spite of the rain, and in spite of the headache. We made good choices, and treated each other well. Sure, I’d like not to be sick, but being sick did nothing to diminish the lovely day, yesterday.

Yesterday, maybe because I am ill, I also had a serious nightmare – terrifying enough to launch me from my bed, all my bed clothes in hand, body pillow clutched to me, cowering in the corner, against the back of the bedroom door when my nearest partner came to check on me, having heard the bang of my frightened self slam into the door, or the wall, whimpering. I don’t recall the dream now, only the sense of tremendous relief when my open eyes began to see, and I was safe in my room, my partner gently soothing my fear with tender touches, and soft words reminding me where I was in the moment, and that all was well.  As fatigued as I felt, it was hours before I could persuade myself to try sleep again, and strangely my bed just didn’t ‘feel right’ after that, until I woke this morning, quite comfortably and on time, a tad amused that I’d forgotten to set my alarm at all, and that it didn’t really matter.

There is a part of me that is curious what the nightmare was about. There is a wiser part of me who understands that doesn’t matter at all, and the kinder choice for my experience is to let it go.

What is 'enough'?

What is ‘enough’?

Today is a good day to listen well, really listen, without waiting to speak. Today is a good day to do my best, and understand with compassion that most people generally are doing their best, as well. Today is a good day to avoid making assumptions; assumptions are only stories we tell ourselves, and they have a lot of power to cause needless suffering. Today is a good day to ‘be impeccable’ with my words, using them well and with kindness, and understanding that clarity does not require callousness, or cruelty.