Agreeing to disagree

The Four Agreements comes to a close you'd expect. After going over the the book's titular subject, and then tying it all up with a glimpse at how it can be applied, the penultimate chapter of the book deals with the possible effects of actively practicing what's come before.

Reading things like Evelyn Underhill's "The Dark Night of the Soul" and the anonymous The Cloud of Unknowing (two books different in subject matter from The Four Agreements, but similar in purpose) has set the bar high for any sort of mystical philosophy that I come across. As such, The Four Agreements, because of its light tone and rhetorical flourishes, doesn't really measure up.

Ruiz touches on some important points, but this book is more of a gateway into thinking in a different way rather than one to challenge and rankle one who already does so to any significant degree. Ruiz's writing about what a person's best is is still excellent, but it's the only high point within. The rest is too thin, and leans too heavily on the anecdotes that Ruiz provides. This gives the book the tone of a motivational speech, and that's not really what I look for in my philosophy. Though finding motivation in heavier fare is always welcome.

If you've not done much reading into mysticism or ancient knowledge systems, then The Four Agreements is a fine place to start. Otherwise, it makes for a quick read and a [] refresher.

The fourth agreement but no fourth way

The Four Agreements continues to be written in the same tone and with the same diction as a cheesy motivational speaker. But. The fourth agreement itself ("always do your best") is something that I find interesting and energizing.

Ruiz explains the agreement as simply as the statement itself, but adds the twist that your best will fluctuate. He notes that it will wan when you're sick, wax when you're well-rested and feeling empowered, and bounce around the charts for every state in between. This added facet to an otherwise simple statement gives it depth that I can appreciate, and as something of a perfectionist the idea that my best fluctuates really speaks to me. Plus, I'm always a fan of philosophies that encourage you to do what you want to do, to follow where your passions lead. Though, I'm also well aware of the complications implicit in doing so as an adult.

Ruiz touches upon the difficulty that adult responsibilities bring to his simple imperative, and turns them aside by taking a page from another work of pop philosophy, The Secret: work and act for the job or action itself and not the reward and you'll get rewarded anyway. Couple this approach to the problem of rent and bills and balancing incomes with expenses with Ruiz's brief explanation of fears and the need to overcome them, and you've got a potent note to finish on.

At least on the surface.

The meat of The Four Agreements comes in the last few chapters, the first of which deals with the "how" of the book. How do you go about enacting these agreements to change your life? He offers somewhat adequate answers, but anyone looking for a step by step guide should look elsewhere. This section of the book seems to be especially plagued by the "create-a-crisis-then-offer-a-solution" pop philosophy formula, and so Ruiz' answers and advice are interesting but too angled for my liking.

In a nutshell, the three ways that he puts forth (making me wonder if there's a Fourth Way available) are to face your fears one by one to undo your bad agreements; to starve what he calls the parasite of your internal Judge and Victim by taking control of your emotions; or to live with the constant knowledge that you could die at any time and so must strive to keep from dying while unhappy (which, in Ruiz' formulation, is the state of those who are not self-aware and not striving to return to a state of true freedom).

Ruiz treats each of these ways with perhaps as much depth as the agreements themselves, which does much to strengthen his book as a whole. However, much more of the coverage of these ways is actual discussion and explanation rather than anecdotes and rhetoric, leaving the book, as of the end of chapter six, feeling uneven.

Agreements two and three: The problem of fiction

Fantasy lives in Mexico. Don Miguel Ruiz' way of explaining himself is full of colour. This makes his philosophy readily accessible to even the most casual reader. Yet, it also makes it sound overly simple.

To some extent it is, and that's also part of The Four Agreements' appeal. Telling anyone that enacting four commandments will change their life for the better is a sure way to get their attention. I only worry that the agreements are a little shallow.

Taking nothing personally and making no assumptions are, indeed, good ways to live, but I'm not satisfied by Ruiz' explanation of how these things work. What troubles me is an apparent emotional solipsism in Ruiz' philosophy.

Such an outlook follows from taking nothing personally, but what also follows on that is the idea that if everyone becomes impeccable in their emotional world, there will no longer be fiction, an art form that relies on assumptions and drama.

Perhaps fiction (and poetry) are agreements in themselves, and of the sort that Ruiz calls "black magic." That doesn't seem too far fetched, since Ruiz' system lends itself to a sort of utopianism similar to that of Plato's Republic. Regardless of that classical connection, those are agreements without which I could not live.

Lay away book special: The first agreement

P.D. Ouspensky's In Search if the Miraculous is the most in depth modern book of mysticism that I've read to date. It's not from the pen of the leader of that branch of mysticism (G.I. Gurdjief), but it is a great exemplar of a common formula in 20th century sales pitches/mystical gurus' self-presentation: create a crisis, explain how it can be overcome and weave what you're selling into that explanation.

Though Don Miguel Ruiz has some good things to say in his The Four Agreements, this same formula can be found all over its first two chapters. Even on a paragraph by paragraph basis. Take for instance, his explanation of the word "impeccable:" He states outright that it means "without sin," then gives a sound etymology and definition, and restates its definition clearly. Adding those two latter steps makes the revelation of the word's meaning more dramatic, but are unnecessary.

The first agreement itself ("be impeccable with your word") is a fine thing. However, while explaining the concept, he refers to how your word can be damaging to yourself as well as others. Again, this is quite all right, but in the previous chapter he strove to show that people do not know their true selves. Therefore, defining how he is using "yourself" in his explanation of the first agreement would help to clarify it further. And, for a book that's been about putting things simply thus far, clarity is essential.