The Second Agreement and Sour Apples

My sister called me recently, in tears about a ‘situation’ that happened over the phone. Apparently she telephoned a relative of ours to wish him a “happy birthday” and instead of receiving a thank you, she was attacked for something unrelated that he perceived to be a “grave transgression.”

Her phone call degenerated into irrational and baseless accusations and foul language on the part of our relative and I had to interrupt my sister during her re-telling of this story to ask two questions:

The first: Was he high?

And then: Why didn’t you hang up? (I’m an a-hole like that you see.)

She didn’t have an answer.

Now imagine my sister was probably the only other relative other than his children and siblings who remembered and actually called to wish him a happy birthday, yet this was the treatment meted out to her.

I feel sorry for someone who could be so unhappy on their birthday that they will treat a well-wisher this way far less a relative. But so it goes with sour apples. Quite like rotten ones, they can, if allowed…attempt to ruin the whole bunch.

sourappleNegative people or sour apples can be loud, crass, highly critical, pessimistic, disruptive, and so bereft of words they resort to using obscene language to destroy, distract and otherwise negatively impact the experiences and lives of those around them.

My sister engaged this negative person because she thought more about what he “thought” than her own peace of mind. Why she felt the need to give him a listening ear when he was clearly trying to destroy her through a phone call speaks more about her than it does him.

Because this is what I expect of him; he thrives on creating chaos and acting as if he is above reproach for his actions and words, even when he is blighting his own experiences or in this particular case using obscene language while referring to my mother – his sister. May she rest in peace.

As for my sister, the Second Agreement of Don Miguel Ruiz’s classic, The Four Agreements applies here. Dont take anything personally. This was about him. Not her.

Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally… Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. All people live in their own dream, in their own mind; they are in a completely different world from the one we live in. When we take something personally, we make the assumption that they know what is in our world, and we try to impose our world on their world.

Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. What they say, what they do, and the opinions they give are according to the agreements they have in their own minds…Taking things personally makes you easy prey for these predators, the black magicians (or sour apples). They can hook you easily with one little opinion and feed you whatever poison they want, and because you take it personally, you eat it up….

My sister, like the rest of us decides who is allowed into her (head)space. We decide who and what we allow to disturb our peace of mind. Instead of engaging him and trying to reason with him and thus allowing his tirade to sour her evening, she could have calmly said, “This is not what I called you for. Have a good birthday.” And hung up.

There is a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally. You become immune to black magicians, and no spell can affect you regardless of how strong it may be. The whole world can gossip about you, and if you don’t take it personally you are immune. Someone can intentionally send emotional poison, and if you don’t take it personally, you will not eat it. When you don’t take the emotional poison, it becomes even worse in the sender, but not in you.

As you make a habit of not taking anything personally, you won’t need to place your trust in what others do or say. You will only need to trust yourself to make responsible choices. You are never responsible for the actions of others; you are only responsible for you. When you truly understand this, and refuse to take things personally, you can hardly be hurt by the careless comments or actions of others.

Sour apples, bad apples…or black magicians are not necessarily bad people. When we understand their motivations and the fact that they are just caught up in their own reality, we are therefore, empowered not to let their perceptions affect our own. Easier said than done. But certainly worth the effort.


NaBloPoMo November 2014

The Vase Broke Today

Way to give it all away up front. But that’s just what happened this morning.

After my shower I was reaching for the cotton pads to apply toner to my face when I accidentally pushed the whole cotton “tower” against the vase and it slide off the shelf and crashed to the floor.

It broke into a few pieces too many. It cannot be fixed.

The vase was mint green with a pretty fuchsia rose to the front of it. The fuchsia rose that broke off completely and now lay in a fuchsia heap next to mint green shards. I left the pieces right where they fell.

I wasn’t particularly sentimental about that vase, even though it was one of the last remnants of the tchotchkes my mother kept. I knew why she liked it too. It was the rose to the front of it. She also kept a candle in it. A pretty, soft pink votive that complemented the colours of the vase. I suppose that made the vase a candle holder more than anything else.

I remember Christmas after Christmas, giving the vase a little wipe…the candle too and putting them back on the shelf with all her other keepsakes.

However, the candle remained unlit. While she had it and then when it remained in the things I kept. All these years, I promised myself I would light it someday. Today it rests on its side in the middle of mint green shards.

The vase broke today and I am going to have to clean it up. It is funny though, how one thing leads to another. The sound of that vase shattering on the floor sparked a memory.

Most families have their own unique way of celebrating special moments with those they hold dear. For me, as a child, one the best parts about Christmas besides all the lovely presents of course was all the preparations that lead up to the big Day.

My mother loved everything about Christmas, and she put a lot of effort into the preparations, from the cleaning to the food to the “putting away the house” for the actual day. Our house would look like a hurricane passed through well into the wee hours of Christmas Day.

The last thing to be done after she had everything “just so” was the Hanging Of The Curtains…the pièce de résistance of all her hard work, which she would have sewn herself.

Well into adulthood, the presents and spending time with family in a house that smelled yummily like freshly baked bread and ham with a hint of pinesol seemed like the best reward for the hours of back-breaking, finger-wrinkling cleaning, wiping, mopping and any other chore my mother deemed necessary.

We would have washed, cobwebbed, swept and polished until everything had a shine unrivaled by anything the North Pole could conjure.

Christmas Eve 2010, four months after my mother died, I was at a bar with my sister and a couple close friends who had lost their mother the previous year. There we were with no real rush to get home…on Christmas Eve.

The rest of the world was hustling and bustling to get last-minute presents, making hasty trips to the grocery, the air itself tingling with the excitement and energy. There we were, grieving into our beers.

For the first time in all my life I had absolutely no reason to rush home on Christmas Eve. There was no cleaning to be done…there was no one to do it for.

Since then, I have avoided doing anything ‘sentimental’ for Christmas. Yes, I buy presents and last year I managed to fix brunch for the Sibs and their spouses. But I haven’t had the actual spirit, that familiar excitement that comes with all the preparations.

I don’t know what it was about the vase breaking this morning or the candle that remained unlit inside it, but it was almost as if I woke up. This was some pretty heavy stuff to be contemplating first thing in the morning…without having had coffee.

Thing is, the vase and the pink, unlit candle were just reminders of her, things I kept. Yet, today they reminded me of how happy Christmas made her, of how getting things ready for the Day was a big production for her and how happy I used to be…because I was part of making it happen.

The vase falling and shattering this morning was just a breaking with the past; a putting to rest of mint green vases that held unlit candles.

I will clean it up later.


NaBloPoMo November 2014