The Four Agreements Review

One book that improves self-esteem, increases productivity, betters relationships, and brings you peace? Are you kidding?

Nope. The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz can do all the above and more. How? Ruiz outlines four simple agreements to live by. 1) Be impeccable with your word. 2) Don’t take anything personally. 3) Don’t make assumptions. 4) Always do your best.

The first agreement has helped to keep my writing on track. To be impeccable with one’s word is to follow through with whatever we say. For example, years ago I told myself I would write seven Artania novels and I’ve kept that promise to myself and thus far have finished five. The same goes for any other project. If I tell a friend I’m going to complete a screenplay, I do it.

The second agreement helps my relationships. When I realize that most actions by others have absolutely nothing to do with me, it doesn’t matter if someone calls or not. I accept that they live are just living heir lives. Even if someone gets angry, it often is because of past pain, current stress, or physical ailments. And I remember this agreement so I don’t take it personally. Anyhow, I am busy living my own life and don’t have time to focus on theirs.

The book also taught me that many misunderstandings stem from assumptions. And this is an area I still need to work on. I’ll admit that I still assume that people in certain roles “should act” certain ways. Many of these assumptions come from cultural indoctrination of gender roles. For instance, I expected my ex-husband to mow the lawn because that’s “what husbands do.” These assumptions have only hurt my relationships. I am continuing to try and accept people for who they are.

Number four isn’t always easy. Especially lately since I’ve become my mother’s caretaker. I want to do my best as a mom, teacher, writer, gym rat, and friend. However the days have been wearing me out. Dementia takes constant vigilance and I’m often tired, stressed, and burned out. Then I look at pictures of my children or my students’ faces and know they deserve my best. I see Mom’s confusion as she wanders back and forth lost in the house and dig deeper for strength. If I read over a page I’ve written and it isn’t right, I revise it.

At the end of the I want to respect myself. So I try my best.

The Four Agreements. Making life better.

About Laurie: The author of Forests Secrets and Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Rift, Persistence of Memory, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, Laurie Woodward is also a screenwriter who co-authored Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at Author Laurie Woodward — Next Chapter ia.net

Martin Luther King Jr: A Quote

Dr. King said, “The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact violence merely increases hate…Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.”

More than fifty years have passed since Dr. King spoke these years yet many still hold onto the false belief that violence can stamp out evil. But it is the violence itself that is a blight on society. Destroying a few individuals with hatred will not bring a stop to it. Isn’t it about time that we learned to walk a new path? I have seen children from gang families, abused kids, homeless students, and the impoverished act with more empathy than many adults.

We could learn a great deal from them. And by remembering these words spoken so long ago.

Elementary Students Volunteering to Create Peace at My School

About Laurie: The author of the recently released Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Shift, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, and Forests Secrets. Laurie Woodward is also a screenwriter who co-authored Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at Author Laurie Woodward — Next Chapter ia.net

On Meditation

Breathe in deeply. Hold it. Exhale. Repeat, filling your chest deeper with each inhalation. Repeat. The practitioner recites. And I listen, trying to follow his/her instructions. Trying to find peace in an uncertain world of chasmic divisions. Trying to find wisdom in the myriad of mistakes and false steps that have tripped my life.

What set me on this path? Didn’t teaching full time give my life purpose? Wasn’t I already writing poetry, books, and blog posts to quench that creative thirst? Shouldn’t I have been satiated with the successes of my career?

Nope. Because while I was elevating my professional life, I was ignoring my personal one. Going off to do my “important shit” while leaving my boyfriend behind. Every morning and most weekend days I’d wave him away saying no to every invitation for breakfast, beach walk, or football game. While I wrote he’d go off by himself often texting me with his complaints. “Come on, meet me. I’m lonely, damnit.” Or “Dating you makes me feel like the loneliest man in town.”

Did any of that change my behaviors? No. I kept typing in a desperate attempt to become a “great writer” like Thoreau, Hyde, Atwood, and Koontz. I didn’t leave any space for him, ignoring his every plea and sad text until, over time he stopped asking. When he became disillusioned, and told me he was moving out, I was shocked. And heartbroken.

Again.

I begged him to stay. Told him what he wanted to hear. I’ll change. Get counseling. Meditate. Spend more time with you. Don’t go!

Although I did all of those things, none of them worked. It was too late. Another failed relationship. Feeling like a total shit, I started to wonder if I’d learned friggin’ anything since my divorce.

The old tapes started playing in my head, telling me what a selfish failure I was. Still I kept practicing my daily meditations. Sometimes I’d sit there with tears rolling down my cheeks as I listened to positive affirmations saying, “I know who I am. I am love. I am kind. I am beautiful. I am fun and funny.”

I’d always been taught to be humble and at first it felt strange to repeat those words. But over time I noticed a difference in how I felt. Yes, I was sad to lose my best friend. Yes, I had ignored him a lot of the time. But that didn’t make me a horrible person. Or evil. Or a failure. It just made me single.

And that was okay.

While I tried many podcasts and videos, Rising Higher Meditation was the most healing I found. It showed me that no matter what, I was full of love and kindness. Perhaps it can help you too.

Rising Higher

The world continues to be uncertain and relationships still have their ups and downs but in the two years since I began this practice, I have learned to calmly accept these truths. My new mantra is “Love, peace, health.”

Try it, you just might be surprised.

Finding Joy: A Book About Abuse

My name is Joy, Joy Chappell. Over the top, I know, but my Mom wanted me to sound all innocent. And maybe I was, in my own way.

Can a car stealing, pot smoking, LSD tripping chick be innocent? I thought so.

Even though it was always on my mind. It, the thing we never talked about. It that Mom hid with Cover Girl and I lied to my friends about. It, making me dream that someday the light of hippie sun would shine down as we danced barefoot in meadows.

Naïve, I know. But when you’re a kid you see the world through your own eyes. And when you’re high to boot, everything is tinged with a soft mist, like an out of focus camera, and you trust people, thinking they just want to give you a ride.

Even with It, I never knew people were truly ugly until that night. I really thought the face inside was just a mask, one I could melt away with my Kodachrome soul. But I was wrong. And by the time I figured it out, it was too late.

I was seventeen, and I was about to die

Radio Interview!

Tuesday I was honored to be interviewed by radio talk show host, filmmaker, and screenwriter, Dave Congalton on his Hometown Radio program about my new novel, Finding Joy. It was fun chatting with him about writing, growing one’s craft, and the inspiration for my latest work.

Have a listen here.

http://www.920kvec.com/show/dave-congalton-hometown-radio/

About Laurie: The author of the recently released Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Shift, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, and the middle grade Forest Secrets Laurie Woodward co-wrote Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at artania.net

Polaroid: A Novel Excerpt

The crumbling walls

Fall all around

While men draw

Palaces in the dust

It’s been raining all morning. Tried opening White Fang but my eyes kept blurring on the page. Guess I’ve read it too many times. Started looking through some of Mom’s books. She’s got some spooky ones like The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane.

In it there’s a girl around my age who lives all alone. She’s mega-smart, brave as shit, and independent. When her dad was dying he said he never wanted her to lose her spirit so figured out a way for her to have money and a house until she grew up.

That would be so amazing. To live by yourself. No school. No one telling you what to do. No mean kids on the bus.

So, this Saturday I curled up in one corner of my room with my giant panda and read how this girl survived. When the lady with the long cruel fingernails came to take her away the Little Girl made her a special tea. The kind that tasted of almonds. The kind she had to serve with almond cookies to hide the flavor.

I was just getting to the part when a creepy guy asks her if she has a boyfriend when I heard a soft knock on my door.

“What is it, brat?” I asked when I saw Kyle standing there, hair combed all perfect even though it was Saturday.

He put a finger to his lips. “Can I come in?”

I eyed him for a sec to see if he was messing with me before opening the door all the way. Once inside, he beckoned me to the other side of the room. I closed it quietly and approached. Then he just stood there searching my face, his long-lashed blue eyes everyone compliments him on blinking.

I raised my arms, exasperated. “What? Just tell me!”

He cocked an ear and let the silence fill the room before whispering, “It’s Mom.”

“Huh? Did Ronny–?”

“No, no not this time. He’s off at the Club. Golf buddies.”
I looked out the window at the steady rain. Ronny would not play in that. I gave Kyle a bewildered shrug.

“She is in the living room, just staring at some picture.”

“Of what?”

“Not what, who.”

“Then who?”

“A lady. With lots of make-up.”

“Another magazine? So.” Mom often got lost in her glamor mags. She’d thumb through them for hours until the astray was overflowing with cigarettes.

“It’s a polaroid. Has an X O written at the bottom.”

Then I knew. It was Ronny. Even when he wasn’t there, he still left marks.

I’d seen the way he was at their parties. Telling stories to ladies about the movie stars he met on the golf course. I thought that was pretty cool until he’d lean in close and whisper something in their ears that either made them blush or their faces go white.

And Mom would glance over and then pretend to check a button her blouse or if her necklace was straight before going to our glass and chrome bar for another Seven and Seven.

“Is she crying?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Just staring.”

Part of me wanted to check on her. Make sure it wasn’t too bad. Be the comforting daughter. But another part, the kid one, told me to stay in my room with my book and big panda.

I am only thirteen! I thought staring at the teddy bear Dad had given me three years before. Then I glanced at my baby brother’s face. And Kyle’s only ten so come on. Be brave. Like the Little Girl.

“You stay here. I’ll check.”

Kyle nodded, his face suddenly looking exactly like it had when he was three and off to preschool for the first time.

In the living room Mom was so deep in the suede club chair she’d become a part of it. I mean if a stranger had walked in at that moment, they might not even have seen her and sat right on her lap. Slumped over, both hands clutching a photo I could tell she’d been holding a long time because the edges were crumpled and her hands white. She didn’t seem to hear me when I approached.

For a moment, I wondered if it was real. “Mom?”

Still stared.

“You okay?”

Not even a blink.

“Mom?”

Without removing her gaze, she said. “She’s not very pretty, is she?”

I glanced at the polaroid. “No.”

“Kind of cheap. Like K-Mart.”

I didn’t know exactly what that meant but agreed anyhow. “Not like you. All my friends say so.”

Now she slowly looked up. “They do?”

“Yeah, they say you’re one of the pretty Moms. You know, the kind all the dads smile at.”

“Hmm.”

“You okay, Mom? You been sitting here a long time.”

“I have?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” She returned to the photo.

I didn’t ask where it had come from. Or who it was. I knew. Didn’t want her to have to say the words. Thought about giving her a hug. But we weren’t real big huggers in this family. Searched my brain for something to say.

No words came.

Finally, I just went back to my room where Kyle was waiting with a did-you-find-a-magical-brew-to-fix-it look.

But all my potions were in my mind, so I did what I always do, I lied.

“It was nothing. She’s fine.”

The above excerpt comes from my soon-to-be-released novel, FINDING JOY.

About Laurie: The author of Forest Secrets and the soon to be released Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Shift, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, Laurie Woodward co-wrote Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at artania.net

Hollow Stare: An Excerpt

Last night Ronny was the worst I’d ever seen. I mean he could be bad, a couple punches here and there but it usually was over in less than a minute. And in the last year he’d only been really rough with Mom three times, four? I’d got a couple black eyes but only after getting in trouble or yelling that he couldn’t tell me what to do.

But he’d never gone after all of us like that.

When the sounds woke me around midnight, I knew right away what they were. I’d heard crashes like that ever since Mom’d married Ronny. I used to cover my ears, waiting for it to be over so I could steal into the hall bathroom to soak a washcloth with cold water. Then when Mom came in and closed the door behind her, I could dab at her face or shoulder.

“A call at my office? Why can’t you do your fucking job?” Ronny’s voice came through the door.

“She’s just confused.”

“No, she’s a drugged-out whore!”

The office school called Ronny about the rally? Shit. Why did I trip at school?

“Shut-up, asshole!

“Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking bitch.”

I heard muffled rumbling and a slam. Mom’s cry. “Fuck you!”

I started to cover my ears but then a thump and another slam jolted me out of bed. I peeked through the door crack at the darkened hallway. At the end something was shaking.

I knew what it was. But still headed toward it. Cocked a futile ear. It didn’t stop.

My insides turned to water. Swallowing hard, I clutched my gut and inched forward.

Kyle was already in the hallway by the time I got to the master bedroom. With his door right across from theirs, it must have been even louder to him. His eyes were Night of the Living Dead dark circles begging me to do something.

“Bitch!” Another crash.

I pushed Kyle behind me and knocked on their door.

Another thud. Followed by a muffled cry. Mom’s voice.

Knocked louder.

The door stayed closed.

I glanced back at my baby brother who was clenching and unclenching his fists. He looked even smaller than he had a moment before. I blinked, wondering if fourteen-year old’s could shrink.

Work brain.

Setting my jaw, I pounded. Still no response. Kicked at the door. Kyle came up by my side and joined me. We hammered so hard I was sure we’d soon splinter wood, a desperate rhythm that no composer would ever use.

Another whimper came from inside.

I jiggled the knob. Locked. Yanked harder. Pushed Kyle out of the way and ran for the door.

And fell into Ronnie’s gut.

He only stared for a moment before grabbing me by the hair. As he swung me in an arc, he screeched, “Go the fuck to bed!”

My back hit the wall and I fell to my knees.

A screaming Kyle leapt at Ronnie and wrapped both arms and legs around his torso like one of those sad monkeys in science experiments. “Leave-them- alone!” he said through clenched teeth.

Ronny backed up smashing Kyle into the wall. My baby brother unclenched his jaw and released his grip.

When he slid down to the floor, I thought Ronnie would stop for sure. He never went after Kyle. It was like Kyle had this special glow to him, heavenly angel or superstar spotlight or something. And he did stop for a sec. Kind of stared confused at his son.

Then his eyes went red. I knew what was next and started to crawl forward.

But was too late.

By the time I reached Kyle, Ronnie had already lifted him over his head and tossed him back toward his room. Kyle bounced off the bed, a weird circus act. He landed on the floor with a sickening crunch. And did not move.

“Kyle?” I croaked pushing past Ronnie toward the crumpled heap that was my brother.

His arm was twisted in a weird position and his breath came in short gasps. It sounded like his lungs had shriveled and now could barely hold air. I reached out and pet his hair.

“Joy?”

“Yeah.”

“It hurts.”

I swallowed a big lump in my throat. “Sorry.”

“Look at what you did,” Ronnie growled. “Should have left well enough alone.” He kneeled and reached out, but Kyle shrunk from his grasp.

Mom appeared, loose bathrobe belt dragging on the ground. I didn’t dare look at her face. “Baby?”

“Mom.” Kyle stretched his good hand toward her.

She squeezed it then ran her fingers over his forearm. He cried out. “It’s broken,” she said in a distant voice. “But it’ll be okay. We’ll get you to the doctor.”

Only now did I look at her. Disheveled hair. Split lip. Right eye almost swollen shut. She couldn’t go out like that.

“Get your keys, Ronnie. We gotta go to the hospital.” The words didn’t seem to come from my mouth but from some stranger wearing my face as a mask.

While Mom wrapped Kyle’s shoulders in the baby blanket he’d had since he was little, I ran to my room and threw on some jeans and a tee.

Cradling his arm, Mom led my sobbing little brother toward the car and onto the velvet back seat. Then she just stood there, hands extended.

“I’ll take care of him. I got this, okay?” I gently unclenched Mom’s hand from under Kyle’s arm and got in beside him.

Mom’s good eye was a hollow socket as she closed the door.

Ronny said nothing but turned the ignition and pulled out of the garage slower than coagulating blood.

During the silent ride to the hospital, Kyle kept his eyes closed against the pain while I stared at the little trucks and cars on the faded blankie. They dipped and bobbed with each hollow in the road as if trying to drive off the blanket. I watched one and imagined that it escaped the fabric and rolled out the window.

Toward the twinkling lights of some distant and empty street.

About Laurie: The author of The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Shift, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky from the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, as well as the middle-grade Forest Secrets. Laurie Woodward co-wrote Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at artania.net

Finding Gratitude

Thank you. A simple phrase. So easy to utter. It falls from our lips multiple times each day. Yet, have you ever thought about what it means to be thankful? To embrace the gifts all around?

I know I don’t always show gratitude. Sometimes I live in resentment, blaming others for my successes and failures. If my step-father hadn’t beaten the women in my family, I’d have been assertive in my romantic relationships. I would have stood up and demanded that my needs be met. If my husband hadn’t had an affair, I wouldn’t be doubting my lovability today. Even if we’d still divorced I would have begun dating with confidence in my attractiveness. It was my boyfriend’s job that kept me from committing fully. If he had just gotten a better paying one, we would have had the perfect relationship.

And it goes on and on.

So often, I’ve argued with what is the truth of my experience. But I have no control over past events. I cannot change the fact that my ex-husband had a secret seven-year affair. I cannot rewrite an old boyfriend’s resume. I cannot magically erase the black eyes and broken bones my step-father inflicted.

But I can choose where to focus to my thoughts. I can say thank you for every experience. I can choose gratitude. I can thank my ex-husband for believing in me when I was just an insecure kid unsure of my life’s path. I can admire how my step-father sought counseling and tried to overcome his anger showing me that anyone can change. I can be grateful for how my boyfriend told me time and again to be kind to myself . How he modeled self-acceptance and making peace with what is.

Instead of fixating on what never manifested, I will remember what has.

I may be single, again, but wondrous relationships abound. My children fill my heart and mind with joy. My silly dad and worry-wort mom say ridiculous things that make me chuckle. I have rocking times with friends dancing, chatting, sharing stories. Kisses and caresses from lovers of the past linger on my skin. I have an abundance of love for myself and others.

I am blessed.

Thank you all.

(Photo by David Stroup)

Sleepless Prayer

I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Keep waking somewhere between two and four. Thinking…too much. Letting the world’s problems fill my psyche. Wondering if I have any power to effect change.

It happened again last night. I glanced at my phone. 2:17. Got up peed, washed, snuggled back down inside the sheets. Rolled over onto my stomach. Thought of all the hate filling the feeds. Wishing I had the words to turn it inside out. Rolled onto my side. Remembered a cruel barb an ex-boyfriend had thrown me. Put on a meditation tape.

The British woman’s soft voice filled my room. “I am love. I am goodness. I am a wondrous being immersed in spirit.”

The back of my head was now on the pillow and feet were splayed out like Vitruvian Man. I waited for sleep to come.

It didn’t.

I am love. I thought. It’s the essence of my spirit.

So I began to pray. Not for myself but for the rest of them. The angry. The suffering. Those who look in the mirror or through windows to see only ugliness.

“God, help me to be kinder. Help me to be more forgiving. Please watch over my babies and keep them safe and in joy.”

“Help Mom to smile more and Dad to relax into the day.”

“Keep gentle hands on my students” shoulders. Help my colleagues know that, yes, they make a difference.”

“God, help me to help them. To have integrity and act in a way that doesn’t harm. And for he whose presence made my heart soar, but doesn’t know his wonder, help him bring down the walls and barriers that block out the world. ”

“God, help me to be love.”

And I finally drifted off.

Hope for Peace: 10 Ways to Effect Change

Just like you, recent events have rocked me to the core. As humanity’s ugly underbelly is exposed with mange and open sores that continue to bleed, I’m seeking hope. For me, it lies with children. I have seen first hand that these innocents desire justice and harmony. I believe children have the power to create profound change in our world. If there is ever to be true peace, it must transcend the generations. But first they must dream of the changes they want. Here are ten creative ideas I’ve used with my students. Let’s all begin the change.