People and Possessions (Blog #509)

Last night I worked until three in the morning helping my friends pack for their upcoming move, then came home and went for a mile-and-a-half run. It’s weird how you can be absolutely exhausted and still feel like you’ve got to burn off some energy. Anyway, I went to bed about four-thirty, slept for four hours, then woke up to meet my friends at ten. (The movers came this morning to evaluate our progress, since the big “load up” is later this week.) And whereas the movers said we packed the dishes wrong (we stacked them like you would in a cabinet , on their bottoms, instead of on their apparently sturdier sides), they said we pretty much had it licked and that they could prepare the rest (furniture, lamps, etc.) on the day of the move.

Phew.

Running strictly on willpower and caffeine, my friends and I spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon finishing up. As we’ve been working in their bedroom and therefore dealing with their personal things, I’ve spent most the day looking under and behind furniture for lost whatevers, taking items to be donated, and hauling trash to the dump. (I snagged the sweet red bandana in today’s selfie from the giveaway pile.) This really is a fascinating gig, seeing what people choose to hang on to and choose to let go of. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that. Of course, having been through this process, I get it. Possessions are personal.

Until they’re not anymore.

By far, the SWEETEST thing I’ve come across in over two weeks of helping my friends pack, I found this morning. Check it out. It’s an honest-to-god Jazzercise record that promises to condition your body, lift your spirits, and put a smile on your face and a bounce in your step!–pretty much everything except send you to heaven. Plus, it says it’s a “wild and woolly” workout. Talk about exciting!

That being said, “woolly” and workout are two words I would never use together if I were trying to promise someone a good time. But then again, I’m not into bears. (Extremely hairy gay men are called “bears,” Mom. Slightly hair gay men–now that we’re talking about it–are called “otters.”)

“The more you know.”

Now it’s nine in the evening, and I’m barely holding my head up. I’m still at my friends’ house working, although I’ve obviously taken a break to blog. I know I’ve been saying it for the last week, but we really are almost done. I think all that’s left to pack is their toiletries (probably not a job for me), then all the tape, tape guns, and magic markers we’ve been using TO pack and label everything.

(Oh shit–I just realized–however will we seal up and label THAT box!?)

For me, today has been bittersweet. On one hand, I’m happy this huge project is coming to a close. It’s been tough stuff, and my body is tired. But on the other hand, it’s been good–fun–working and being around my friends. Having spent most of my adult life working alone, I’ve really enjoyed laughing “on the job” and eating lunches WITH other people. Mostly, I’m simply grateful. These friends of mine started off as dance students. Some random day they wandered into my studio, and we’ve been in and out of each others’ lives ever since. I don’t know. I guess a part of me wants to hang on. But, of course, people and possessions have this one thing in common–

You can’t hang on to them forever.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Who’s to say that one experience is better than another?

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The Bottleneck (Blog #508)

Last night I dreamed that I was running in Dallas–of all places–and couldn’t quite pick up my feet. I’ve had dreams like this before, like, I’m not moving as fast as I want to. But this time I was lost. I couldn’t quite find where I was supposed to be going (my hotel, I think). I checked my GPS, and it provided the correct route–a straight shot up the interstate. HOWEVER there was a huge traffic jam–a bottleneck–six lanes of traffic trying to squeeze into one. Finally it cleared up. Just like that, all the cars and me (on foot!) were flowing through. No longer lost or jammed up like we were before. On our way as if nothing had happened.

Currently it’s four in the afternoon, and I’ve only been up for a couple of hours, since–again–I worked late last night helping some friends pack for an upcoming move. We’re getting SO close to done. As we’re working again this evening and I have a myriad of other things to do before then, I seriously need to keep this short. I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot lately–I’m in a rush–I don’t have to write–I don’t have time to read–I don’t have time to wipe my ass. Ugh. It’s so frustrating. No wonder my stomach has been upset.

“It’s stress,” my friend, who’s a pharmacist, said last night. “Everything is stress.”

No kidding. If I had to describe last night’s dream in one word, that would be it–stress. It’s just the worst sensation to feel like you’re not moving fast enough or like you’re all jammed up. That’s what it feels like lately–the bottleneck–like I have so much going on, and I’m not sure any of it’s getting me anywhere. Plus, my body still isn’t back to normal. I’m dragging, forcing myself at times. Last night one of my friends said, “How are you functioning?” and I said, “Willpower. It’s just willpower.”

In last night’s dream there was a brief pause, something that happened between the huge traffic jam and everything clearing up. I don’t know, it was like a rest, a break in the bottleneck, when everyone collectively realized how crazy it was to force-force-force the situation rather than letting it flow. And that’s when it worked, when we stopped trying to push every little damn thing. That’s when we were on our way again. So maybe I can stop pushing too. Maybe I can stop trying to run so fast and simply walk instead. Or maybe I can stop completely, watch other people go first, and think, I’ll be on my way soon enough–yes, it will be just like that–as if nothing had happened.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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On Slowing Down (Blog #507)

Yesterday I woke up with a belly ache. This has been happening on-and-off for a couple of weeks now is not AWFUL but is not fun either. It feels like a dull number two pencil has been shoved into my guts. Again, it doesn’t feel like a machete or even a pocket knife, but still–no matter what else I’m doing–it keeps my attention. Anyway, I’m doing the best I can. This morning I ate burnt toast, yogurt, applesauce, and a banana for breakfast while sipping Ginger Ale. Now I’ve moved on to herbal tea and have over-the-counter drugs waiting at the ready.

I’m really close to pulling the trigger.

Actually, I tried some drugs yesterday. Pepto Bismol (Pept Abysmal) tablets, then Zantac. I didn’t notice a difference. Last week I went running to release pent-up aggression, and that seemed to help as much as anything. But I haven’t had a lot of time for running lately, as I’ve been working my tail off helping some friends pack for an upcoming move. Plus, it’s been thunderstorm-ing all week. Anyway, I’m taking it one day at a time, Sweet Jesus.

Yesterday my friends and I started packing at six in the evening and worked for twelve hours straight. The sun was coming up as I drove home this morning. Ugh. My my schedule is so turned around lately. Right now it’s four in the afternoon, and I feel like it’s ten in the morning. Oh well–we’re getting a lot done. That’s what matters. We’re almost there. And whereas I could go the rest of my life without seeing a cardboard box or hearing the sound of a tape gun rip-rip-ripping, we really are having a good time. We laugh a lot. That’s important too. Even when my friends are working in other rooms, I manage to entertain myself somehow. Usually by drawing on their boxes.

Here’s a little cartoon I came up with last night in their laundry room–

But this was my favorite, which I drew on top of a crummy piece of furniture, also found in their laundry room. “Is this keep or trash?” I said. “Trash,” they said.

Okay, I’ve got about an hour before I got back to work again, and I’d like to clean up, maybe read a chapter in a book I picked up this week at the library. I’m learning that this is really important, to slow down and not work-work-work non-stop. Last night about hour nine, around three in the morning, I sat down on the couch and just piddled with my phone for five minutes. Take a damn break, Marcus. So although it goes against my habit, I’m trying. Even now with this blog, this ending, I’m trying to not demand perfection and productivity in every moment.

I’m trying to just–

Stop.

[quotes_and_tips

Extremes in Caffeine and Dancing (Blog #506)

Last week when I got sick for a day, I stopped drinking coffee. For one thing, it didn’t sound good at the time. But I also traditionally drink way-too-much coffee, so I thought, Give it a rest, Nancy. Well, the first few days were a little rough, but I made it. Now it’s been over a week. Look at me! That being said, I’m not smoking cigarettes, getting laid, or doing any other damn fun thing in my life these days, so I’ve noticed The Void. It’s been tough to hold my head up, especially since I’ve been working the last several nights until four in the morning helping friends pack. Even when I sleep past noon like I did today, I just can’t seem to get enough rest or ever really wake up.

And God knows the GREEN TEA isn’t helping.

At all.

This morning while making breakfast and preparing to toast a THIN bagel, I noticed our butter is UNSALTED, our cream cheese is FAT FREE, and our grape jelly is SUGARLESS. This was the final straw. What the fuck? I thought, as I switched on the coffee maker. Why would someone even want to live in an uncaffeinated world where EVERYTHING tastes like cardboard?!

As if life weren’t challenging enough.

So now I’m enjoying my first cup of coffee in over a week. Feel free to alert the media. And whereas the all-or-nothing part of me thinks that I’m a failure for not “sticking it out,” another part of me thinks coffee DIDN’T sound good last week, but it DOES sound good now. I mean, the seasons change, so why can’t my desires and opinions? But seriously, back to this cup of joe. It’s delicious. I’m glowing.

I feel like a virgin. Touched for the very first time.

Who doesn’t like a little drama?

Maybe I could try not to overdo it this time, just drink coffee with breakfast instead of all day long. I’ve heard some people do that. I don’t know–moderation isn’t really my bag. I like the all-or-nothing thing, the extremes. Sure, it’s more dramatic, but who doesn’t like a little drama?

Sometime last year there was a dance move called The Backpack Kid that went viral thanks to Katy Perry’s performance on Saturday Night Live (SNL). The move is a little difficult to explain in writing, but it essentially boils down to swinging your hips from side to side while swinging your arms in the the opposite direction. (The complicated part is that every other time, one of your arms goes behind your back.) Anyway, the move is super fun, and during my last trip to Nashville (and after a few beers), I finally figured out how to do it. Yippee!

Recently I was watching an interview with the teenage kid who made the move famous, and the interviewer asked him why he thought kids could do the move faster and therefore look better doing it than adults. Well, the little shit said something like, “Kids are more agile. Old people are brittle and can’t move as well.” And whereas that’s “sort of” true and SOUNDS like a good answer, I DISAGREE. Think about it. A child is smaller than an adult. Their hips are like eight inches from side to side. An adult’s, on the other hand, are like forty-five. (I obviously exaggerate.) But the point is that the move requires taking your hips from one side to the other. Because a child has LESS DISTANCE to travel, they can bounce back and forth faster than a bunny rabbit can hop across your front lawn. However, since an adult has MORE DISTANCE to travel, the back-and-forth takes them longer.

It’s just physics.

I guess there’s two ways of seeing The Backpack Kid. A shorter distance means a faster movement, which–granted–is fun to look it. There’s a certain “yee-haw” quality about it. It’s flashy. But a longer distance, despite its slower movement, means A LONGER DISTANCE. What’s more, the distance traveled becomes MORE OBVIOUS. (Wow! I went from HERE to THERE.) This is what I like about having wider hips. Maybe they don’t move as fast as a teenager’s, but their movements are clear. They’re distinct. They’re powerful. Likewise, this is what I like about the all-or-nothing thing. It’s easier to SEE MOVEMENT when there are extremes. Not that I’m suddenly against moderation and balance (I’m not), but it is easier to NOTE CHANGE when there’s summer on one end of calendar and winter on the other. And I imagine this is how we all spend our lives–moving from one extreme to the other. Some of us move a little less, faster; some of us move a lot more, slower. But all of us, it appears, are dancing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."

You Know, a Guy Could Take This (Blog #505)

Twenty days ago, while I was in San Francisco for a dance event, I received a ticket (from a meter maid!) for parking on a steep hill and NOT turning my wheels toward the curb. Talk about a serious drag. I didn’t know a person was supposed to do this. Anyway, when I talked to a friend of mine who’s a policeman in San Francisco, they said, “Might I suggest a good old-fashioned protest?” Well, sure enough, there’s a website listed on the back of a ticket, in case someone wants to put up a fuss. So, in light of the fact that the ticket is sixty-nine frickin’ dollars, that’s exactly what I did this morning.

I resisted.

Unfortunately, I was limited to 1,000 characters, so I couldn’t be as “flowery” as I wanted to be with my words. Still, here’s what I said:

Hello. My name is Marcus Coker, and I recently visited SF for the first time (in order to attend a swing dance event). The event housed me with a local, on 14th Avenue. Of course, parking was a challenge, but I “finally” found a spot after 45 minutes of circling the neighborhood. You can imagine my relief. There was a sign about not parking on certain street-cleaning days, but otherwise–I thought–I was good. (Phew.) Alas, when I went to check on my vehicle the next day (a friend who is a policeman said vehicle break-ins were common in SF), I’d received a $69 dollar ticket for “parking on grades,” a term that I had to Google and means I didn’t turn my wheels toward the curb. Ugh. This really put a damper on my weekend, especially since I had no idea about your city’s policy. After all, it wasn’t posted, and, being from the flatlands of the south, I never park on hills. As I immediately corrected the problem, I ask that you forgive this incident. Please have mercy. Regards, Marcus

Then, when the website asked if I had any supporting documents, I uploaded this PDF: SF_ParkingProtest

So we’ll see what happens. At the very least, I figure I’ve bought myself some more time. This morning when I saw the ticket in my to-do pile, I freaked out. First, either the protest or the payment is due tomorrow, and that triggered my “not enough time” response. Second, the fact that this is an “authority issue,” made my butt pucker. But then I thought, You can do this, Marcus, and sat down and got to work. In no time, I was simply doing my thing–writing. Plus, I was trying to have a good time. So much of my past has been filled with my being nervous, afraid, and terrified about things that really amount to nothing. A parking ticket. A meter maid. But–regardless of how it turns out–this protest was actually fun for me.

So that’s something.

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for my friend and local artist Ralph Irwin. I wrote about Ralph in detail here (in my most highly read article), so I won’t go into great detail about him here. However, I was reminded yesterday what a profound impact one person can have on another. Honestly, although I worked two doors down from him when I had my dance studio, I didn’t spend that much time with Ralph. We only had a handful of heart-to-hearts. That being said, they were enough. Ralph left his mark on me.

One of the things that was mentioned at the memorial service was that Ralph would often take some odd, discarded object, hold it up to the light, squint, and say, “You know, a guy could take this and–.” Then Ralph would proceed into a barrage of wild ideas and creative possibilities. This was my experience with him. Once he told me, “Some people might look at a rusty old door and think of it as trash. But an artist would look at it and see possibility, something you could paint or hang on a wall or use for something else entirely.”

Possibility. If nothing else, Ralph taught me that there’s an infinite number of ways to see the world. What’s more, there’s an infinite number of ways to make your world more beautiful. But it all starts with how you see things. Do you look at the objects and people in your life–do you look at yourself–as trash? Or do you see something beautiful there? Personally, I think Ralph saw people the way he saw objects–full of potential. At least that’s how I think he saw me. I’m not sure he ever said it directly, but he took time to help me flesh out ideas and show me new ways of looking at things. He encouraged me (and I know he did this for countless others).

Of course, it’s no small thing to be encouraged.

There was something said yesterday about how Ralph felt like he didn’t get enough done. The man was teeming with creative ideas and projects, and although many of them were completed during his seventy-six years on earth, many of them were not. I get this–I love completion. But as an artist and creative, I think this is a good “problem” to have–to wake up every day with a million ideas, to see possibility everywhere you look, to not get locked into one way of seeing a situation. This is where I see progress in my own life. Five years ago I would have gotten a traffic ticket, and it would have been “awful” from start to finish. But whereas facts are facts–I got a parking ticket–I can choose how I look at the facts. I can paint them up and put a frame around them that I like and that’s fun for me. I can choose how I respond.

I can hold my problems up to The Light.

I can squint my eyes.

I can see the world differently.

Yes–

It’s more beautiful now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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Love, Marcus (Blog #504)

For lunch yesterday, I paid with cash, and my change was SUPPOSED TO BE $21.06. However, the waitress only brought back $21.00. No six cents. This is a HUGE pet peeve of mine, but still, I let it go. Or rather, I didn’t say anything at the restaurant then stewed about it for thirty minutes after. (Those pennies belong to me, damn it.) Anyway, last night I watched a movie with a friend of mine and picked up pizza on the way to his house. Well, get this shit. The pizza was $18.64, and I gave the girl $19.00. So I watched her go to the cash register, and the computer screen attached to it–in big, bold letters ANYONE could have read from the other side of a football field–said, “Change due: $0.36.” But the girl just shut the drawer and turned around, as if she were done. Seeing me still standing at the counter, she raised her eyebrows.

“May I have my change?” I said.

“Oh,” she said, and turned back to the cash register.

What the hell, people?!

The movie I watched last night was called Love, Simon and is the story of a high school senior (Simon) who is in the process of 1) coming to terms with his (homo)sexuality and 2) coming out. I honestly didn’t have high expectations. Maybe it’s because I’m thirty-seven, single AF (as fuck, Mom), and took forever to really come out, but I simply wasn’t jazzed about the idea of watching a tween with flawless skin discover his true self AND fall in love in the space of a calendar year. (Well that’s just great–FOR YOU!) That being said, I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was the movie adorable, it was also (mostly) “real” or true-to-life.

I laughed. I cried. It was better than Cats.

Toward the end of the movie, after Simon comes out to his family, he has a conversation with his mom and asks her if she knew. “I knew you had a secret,” she says. “You used to be so free–but these last few years I could almost hear you holding your breath.”

Wow. I know what that feels like, to not be able to fully relax, to always wonder what other people–your friends, your family–will think of you, to constantly feel as if you have to hide. (They don’t call it being in the closet for nothing.) With my journey, I first came out to my dad, then some friends, then my sister. Everyone said, “We know. It’s about time. Pass the ketchup.” It just wasn’t a big deal to them. But it was a big deal to me. It’s always a big deal to exhale, to realize that the world isn’t as scary as you made it out to be, to know that you are loved and accepted for who you are.

Personally, I think we’re all in the process of coming out and learning to exhale. Not necessarily with regard to sexuality, but with regard to something. Because we all have secrets, parts of ourselves and our lives that we’re ashamed of, things we’re deathly afraid to share with others. After all, what WILL people think? Plus, it’s difficult to live life without apology, to be willing to stand out in whatever way. In the movie, there’s a character who’s not only out, but also obvious, so he’s an easy target for high school bullies. To his credit, he always has a comeback, a witty retort. But surely it would take a lot of energy to live like that, always on the defense.

In my experience, my strength comes and goes. Plenty of days I feel like putting in my earrings, doing whatever the fuck I want to do with my hair, and strutting around in the shortest shorts I own. Yes, I’m gay. And this is how I dance, and this is how much I weigh, and this is how I live my life. And if you don’t like it, you can go get high. But plenty of days I feel like blending in and not being noticed. (Sometimes I feel like making a fuss about six cents; sometimes I don’t.) I just finished reading a book about the moon, and apparently the moon and I have this in common. Some days we shine brightly, some days we disappear completely. The book’s author, Carolyn McVickar Edwards, says it like this–“I bless my capacity to hold both the light and the dark.”

So.

In all things.

I’m trying to not hold my breath so much.

To breathe in AND out.

Just as the moon waxes AND wanes.

This is the change I’m really wanting.

To hold on to the light, then let go of it.

To gracefully move from one phase to the next.

To relax.

To move freely through the heavens.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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An Attention Intervention (Blog #503)

It’s five in the evening, and all I want to do is read. I’m still in the middle of the book by Richard Bach I mentioned yesterday, and I just picked up two more (one about the moon, one about the practice of alchemy) at the library. Really, “the hunt” is as much fun as the reading, looking around, digging for new sources of information and knowledge. I really have a hard time turning it off. Earlier this week my friend Marla said, “Marcus, you’ve GOT to watch this television show on Netflix,” and I said, “I CAN’T STOP READING!”

“Do you need an intervention?” she said.

Yes, yes I do. An attention intervention.

Earlier today I saw my therapist. She said I seemed “anxious,” which I guess I am. I’ve been working a lot lately, I’m going out-of-town next week for business, and–consequently–I have a hundred things on my mind. Plus, I’m signed up with the United States Postal Service to receive digital images (pictures) of the mail that’s being delivered every day, and this morning I found out that later today I’ll be receiving a letter from my doctor. I’m assuming it’s my results from last week’s cholesterol, thyroid, and testosterone tests. And whereas part of me wants everything to be “okay,” another part of me “wants” there to be SOMETHING wrong in order to explain why my health and energy levels have been so up and down this last year.

So I’m on edge.

At one point during our conversation today, my therapist used the phrase “enough for the moment.” I think it was in the context of dealing with stressful or self-critical thoughts. Like, putting your hand up and saying, “STOP. Back off, jerk-wad. That’s enough for the moment.” But later we were talking about that concept–enough–since I often feel like EVERYONE ELSE has what they need to succeed, but I don’t, as if I need to be smarter, or better educated, or richer, or better looking in order for my life to “work out.” But my therapist reminded me that I AM enough, that WHO I AM is enough.

“You have EVERYTHING you need to succeed,” she said.

So now I’m telling myself, I am enough. I am enough for this moment.

This is something that’s been on my mind lately–this moment. Earlier today I started re-listening a set of Caroline Myss lectures that are some of my favorites–Fundamentals of Spiritual Alchemy. (Alchemy is a theme for me lately.) The basic idea is that in “this moment,” your physical body may be sitting in your chair in the living room (or wherever), but that–chances are pretty good–your spirit or soul is what Myss calls “non-local.” Like, you’re still thinking about that argument you had with a co-worker yesterday, or angry about what your mom said to you twenty years ago, or worried about what you’ll wear for your date this weekend. In other words, you (and me too) are way spread-out, anywhere but right here, right now.

Myss says that the point of alchemy and the ancient mystery schools was to train a person (an “initiate”) how to be in present time. Jesus said it this way–“Give no thought for tomorrow.” Of course, this is hard work, but worth it– since being out of present time creates psychic “lead,” which not only is a bitch to carry around (we’ve all got baggage!), but also literally slows down the pace at which your life moves–how quickly you can manifest your dreams, even how soon you can heal a physical illness. It’s fascinating. (It’s terrifying.) As Myss says–it takes AT LEAST an entire lifetime to learn.

In my way of thinking, so much of this work comes down to what you let yourself think about, what you allow to command your attention. Maybe this is a good way to say it: Do you let the circumstances of your life command your attention, or do YOU command your attention? When my therapist and I were talking about not feeling good enough, she said, “That’s a slippery slope to go down–the ‘poor me’ slope.” (I said, “Yeah, it’s a real Black Diamond.”) But the point is, we do have a choice about which hills we step onto and consequently go down. We CAN work at putting our focus on the here and now, rather than the past and awful, or the future and terrifying. We CAN self-initiate an attention intervention.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Ultimately, we all have to get our validation from inside, not outside, ourselves.

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99 Gifts (Blog #502)

It’s almost seven in the evening, and I’ve been meaning to leave the house for an hour to meet some friends for dinner. (They said I could come “whenever.”) Anyway, they just left to run a quick errand–and then I really need to get there–so I’m going to try to make tonight’s blog a ten-minute special.

You can do this, Marcus. You can do this.

Yesterday I spent all evening helping some friends pack for an upcoming move. We were up til four in the morning. Then I came back to where I’m house sitting and crashed, sleeping past one today. This afternoon I continued reading a book I started yesterday–Illusions by Richard Bach. My favorite part so far says, “There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands.” Talk about a great perspective. You got 99 problems?

You got 99 gifts.

Otherwise I’ve spent all day internet-ing. I’m currently fascinated by the fact that–apparently–there are seven major liquids mentioned in the Bible (just like there are 7 days of the week, 7 heavenly bodies in the ancient world, and 7 main chakras)–water, blood, wine, milk, honey, (olive) oil, and dew. Anyway, I’ve been researching what these 7 things symbolize, and am working on some theories about the whole thing. Having JUST STARTED, I don’t have much to share, but here are a few things I find interesting–

  • In the Old Testament, Moses and Aaron turned water into blood. In the New Testament, Jesus turned water into wine.
  • All seven liquids, with the exception of olive oil, contain water, which is can be used as a symbol for change or the start of new life (as in baptism).
  • Symbolically, blood and wine are often used interchangeably. In some systems, like the Chinese’s Yin and Yang, blood and water are seen as complimentary.

Okay, I really need to go. I love you and would like to write more, but I have plans. I’m telling myself this ISN’T a problem, writing a super-short, somewhat-out-of-the-ordinary blog. But even if it is, surely there is a gift here. Like the fact that I’m demanding less of myself, or the fact that both you and I now have time on our hands to do something else with our lives.

So let’s get going, shall we?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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My Alchemical Laboratory (Blog #501)

It’s two in the afternoon, and I’m house/dog sitting for some friends of mine who are out-of-town. I’m half-naked in today’s picture because, with the exception of the shorts I’m wearing, all my clothes are in the washer/dryer. The day itself is overcast, cool, and drippy. Although I have other plans, I could easily spend the entire afternoon on my friends’ couch, maybe their front porch, fading in and out of sleep. I too am overcast, since I got here at five this morning after having worked twelve straight hours with some other friends who are packing for an upcoming move. (We’re all serious night owls.) Anyway, I only slept for about six hours, which in my fine opinion, is not enough.

And yet I am awake.

Yesterday was my 500th blog (in a row), a milestone  that I intend to commemorate in the next few days with a live video and–most likely–a beer. Or cake. Hell, let’s get a cake, Marcus. Anyway, this is a big deal for me, as I’ve never committed to and followed through with anything else of this magnitude–ever. But more than simply checking off 500 days of blogging, this project has and continues to be–well–my alchemical laboratory, that place where I can meet myself time and time again, my sacred place of change and transformation.

The last time I house sat for my friends (earlier this year), I was doing my damnedest to heal from my second bout of the flu. This after a three-month-long sinus infection and a number of other health problems. (I was zapped.) The day my friends returned, my dad went into the hospital with heart problems. God, life can be a real bitch sometimes. But now things a different–not perfect, but better. My health has gradually improved, as has my father’s. I mention this because I think it’s vital to recognize that yes, sometimes the waters of life absolutely flood in and can almost drown you–but the waters recede.

Personally, one thing that’s nice about having this blog is that it gives me a daily record of my life. Last night during a snack break, my friends and I put down our cardboard boxes and packing tape, went outside, and pulled their patio chairs into the middle of their yard. There we craned our necks toward the sky in search of the Perseid Meteor Shower. Unfortunately, it was overcast last night too–cloudy. And yet I still saw four shooting stars. At least I’m pretty sure I saw them. That was something my friends and I discussed–the meteors happen so quickly, it’s easy to think, Did that really just happen? Likewise, with personal change, things often happen so slowly, I have a tendency to think the same thing–Is anything really going on here?

But–again–I have this record.

So I know.

I am changing.

Looking back, I can see it.

The waters are receding.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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As We Wiggle (Blog #500!)

Yesterday I drove to Tulsa to dance and have an informal business meeting with a friend of mine. It was simply the perfect day. First I poked around in a bookstore, did some window shopping, and read a short book that I bought a few days ago about quality. Then I went to the dance and saw some of my favorite folks. Talk about quality! I got to see my friend Hannah, who’s a badass dancer, has a killer wardrobe, and always makes me laugh-laugh-laugh. She’s glorious. Then I got to see my friend Marina, who’s ninety-six, still dances, and had a t-shirt on that said, “I never planned to be AWESOME. It just happened.” Also glorious.

At the end of the evening, Marina and I got into a conversation about birthdays. Hers is in March. “Yours is in September,” she recalled. “Yes,” I said. “What do you think I should do to celebrate?”

Marina leaned back and threw her arms out wide. “DO SOMETHING CRAZY!”

I love it, and just might.

After the dance I met my friends Greg and Rita for dinner at a local pub, Kilkenny’s, the coolest spot to hang out. There, while waiting for the son Mason to show up, Greg and Rita and I talked about how this was the norm in some societies, to end the day by meeting your friends for a drink, to connect with your community. “In Europe, television is expensive,” Rita said, “so people actually get out of their houses and look for ways to interact with each other.”

Now there’s a novel idea.

When Mason arrived, he and I turned our chairs toward each other and chatted about business and marketing (his field of expertise) for an hour or two. At one point Mason joked to someone else, “I charge $500 an hour, but Marcus doesn’t know that yet.” At the end of the evening, I said, “I really do appreciate your letting me pick your brain, since I know this is your profession.” Then Mason gave me a hug and said, “Anytime. You’re family.” This is no small thing, when other people accept you with open arms.

Also glorious.

Leaving Tulsa at two in the morning, I stopped once on the side of the turnpike in the middle of nowhere to look at stars. There’s a meteor shower (The Perseids) this weekend, and I was hoping to get a better glance outside the smog and light-pollution of the big city. And whereas I only saw two falling stars, I saw two falling stars! Plus, I could see the Milky Way and hundreds (if not thousands) of stars that I normally can’t see in Van Buren. Actually, I saw so many stars that I had a hard time finding many of the familiar constellations that I can normally spot at a glance. I’m just not accustomed to the sky being so “busy.”

Driving the rest of the way home, I thought, I wish I’d seen more falling stars. But when I got back to Van Buren the sky was covered in clouds–I couldn’t see a damn thing. So I was immediately and deeply grateful for my time on the side of the turnpike with my head craned toward the heavens, when, for a brief moment, everything shone.

During the last half of my drive, I listened to a CD by the philosopher Alan Watts. He’s dead now, but he’s one of my favorites. Anyway, just as I was pulling into Van Buren, Alan said, “When you look at the clouds, they are not symmetrical. They do not form fours and they do not come along in cubes, but you know at once that they are not a mess. They are wiggly, but in a way, orderly, although it is difficult for us to describe that kind of order. Now, take a look at yourselves. You are all wiggly. We are just like clouds, rocks, and stars. Look at the way the stars are arranged. Do you criticize the way the stars are arranged?

I can’t tell you how much I love this, the reminder that it’s okay–normal–to be wiggly like a cloud or scattered about like the stars–sometimes hiding behind the clouds, sometimes shining brightly, sometimes falling. Today’s blog is number 500 (in a row!). Looking back, it’s been a lot of “seasons,” a lot of ups and downs, a lot of trips and falls. Yet this is clearly the way of it, the way of life. We come together, we dance, we say goodbye. (We wiggle.) And how good it is to know that as we wiggle, you and I are exactly like the clouds and the stars–also glorious.

All–so–glorious.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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What are you really running away from?

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