Today has been delightful. Simply delightful, I say. Why exactly I woke up on the right side of the bed, I don’t know. But I did, and I’m grateful. Maybe my good mood has to do with the fact that I woke up early, like before nine o’clock. If so, I’d hate that. What if I had to make a habit of it? That wouldn’t bless me at all.

The reason I got up so early was to go to therapy. I guess that contributed to my being so damn chipper. Therapy is almost always fun, and today was no exception. Of course, when I say therapy is fun, I mean my therapist is fun. Today we talked (partly) about fashion. Like, Who are you wearing? My therapist talked about her dress, then I talked about my vintage sweater. She said I looked “glowing.” Glowing–I guess that’s a compliment–although it kind of makes me feel like a pregnant woman.

Now if only my hips didn’t hurt so much.

This lighthearted chit-chat, I think, is one of the benefits of having a longterm therapist. After a while, most the serious stuff has been covered. I always show up with my list of things to talk about and questions to ask, of course, but personally derive a lot of value from beginning our sessions by discussing our outfits or how hideous her waiting room is. “It looks like someone went shopping at a yard sale–two decades ago,” I often say. “How many times do I have to tell you?” she replies. “Look down.”

After therapy I went to one of those restaurants where they expect you to clean up after yourself. You know–sort of fast food, sort of not. Anyway, I didn’t realize the protocol and left my basket and trash on my table. I was halfway out the door before I saw the “put baskets here” section. Well, it was one of those split-second decisions. I thought, Fuck it, and kept walking. (So sue me.) Honestly, I almost went back inside, but saw something that caused me not to. Above the wastebasket there was a sign that said, “Make your mama proud.” Y’all, it just rubbed me the wrong way. It felt as if they were trying to guilt-trip me into throwing my trash away, insinuating that the woman who brought me into this world wouldn’t be proud of me otherwise. Well (obviously), this passive-aggressive marketing wasn’t going to work on me–I’d just come from therapy.

I realize this may seem silly, but I’ve been thinking about writing the restaurant all day. (Sometimes I do this sort of thing. I’m that guy.) It probably has something to do with the fact that I’m currently reading a book about giving excellent customer service. In fact, I was reading the book IN the restaurant, so when I saw the sign on the wastebasket, all I could think was, I’m the customer. If I’d wanted a guilt trip for lunch, I would have stayed at home. (That’s a joke, Mom.) Okay, breathe, Marcus. I get that a lot of places cut down on costs by not paying their employees to wait on people, and this wasn’t the sort of place you leave a tip. I really do think it was just the wording that bothered me, the whole make-your-mama-proud thing. Why not just say, “Please throw your trash away so we don’t have to do it for you.”? Or “Please return your baskets here. It helps us keep operating costs down so you can save.”?

Wouldn’t either of these options be more direct, more honest?

This evening I’ve barely been able to pull myself away from a book about Bioenergetics, a form of mind-body therapy developed by Alexander Lowen. Bioenergetics is related to Reichian Therapy, which I’ve blogged about recently. I’m only a hundred pages into the book, but so far, Bioenergetics makes a lot of sense to me. According to Lowen, there is no difference between your mind, body, and soul. At the very least, there’s no difference between your mind and body. As he says, “A person’s past is his body.” I take this to mean, in simple terms, that every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body, often in the form of tension or pain.

Someone told me once that I was attuned to subtle energies. “That’s probably why you like words,” they said. “They act on the subtle energetic body.” I don’t know if this is true or not, but I’ve been thinking about that word this evening–subtle–and the idea that everything we do makes a difference. Sometimes that difference is huge, and sometimes that difference is subtle, but everything has its impact. (So don’t pretend like you don’t matter.) For example, your clothes say something about you. Everything you put on–or don’t–sends a message. Words on restaurant signs say something about the people who put them there, either, “We want to help you,” or “We want you to help us.” Likewise, our bodies are constantly communicating with us, sending both subtle and not-so-subtle messages whenever there’s a problem. Of course, before we can do anything about anything, our first job is simply to listen.