On Standards of Absolute Perfection (Blog #499)

After posting yesterday’s blog about the right and left brains, I had a freak-out moment in the shower when I realized I got the two brains and their respective jobs mixed up. Accidentally, I’d said that the right brain thinks logically and the left brain thinks in pictures, when–in fact–it’s the other way around. The left brain thinks logically, and the right brain thinks in pictures. Anyway, I went back and fixed the mistake in my last two posts, and now I’m trying to figure out how I can make it up to the other half of me, since I inadvertently praised my left brain, when I should have been praising MY RIGHT BRAIN.

Don’t you hate it when your left brain tries to take credit FOR EVERYTHING?

But seriously. Who came up with this system? It’s so confusing. For one thing, it’s criss-crossed. The left brain controls the right side of the body, and the right brain controls the left side of the body. Consequently, being right or left-handed USUALLY means that you’re opposite-side brain dominant. For example, I’m right-handed and left-brain dominant. But this is NOT ALWAYS the case. A person can be right-handed AND right-brain dominant or vice-versa.

Having mulled all of this over for the last twenty-four hours, I’m still not positive I have the facts straight. (And who really cares if I do?) But I do know that the entire situation has taught me that I’m making progress internally. What I mean is that yesterday when I realized my goof, I only had a slight moment of freaking out, thinking, Oh shit, I made a mistake! Whatever will the people on the internet think of me now? And I really didn’t engage in any self-flagellation. How could I let this happen? Rather, I simply finished my shower, double-checked my facts, corrected the error, and went about my day. It was that easy.

And the world didn’t stop spinning.

Honestly, daily blogging has been really good for this–lowering my standards of absolute perfection (whatever that is). Tomorrow will be my 500th post (wow!), and after almost 500 days of spilling my guts and posting selfies, I just don’t give a shit as much as I used to. (And that’s a good thing.) In the beginning, I’d proofread my posts six or seven times before sharing them. Now I proofread them three times, sometimes just two if I’m tired. I know plenty of mistakes slip through. Oh well. Plenty of glorious things slip through as well.

At least I’m writing.

In terms of my selfies, they’ve been a wonderful exercise in accepting all my bodies, all my bad hair days, all my double chins. Who has the time (and good enough lighting) to post a perfect picture every time? So yes, sometimes I look like that. Sometimes I don’t. (Who cares?)

At least I’m living.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Not knowing what's going to happen next is part of the adventure."

Beautiful, Indescribable You (Blog #498)

It’s 12:45 in the afternoon, and I’ve been awake for about an hour. I’ve already made breakfast. In about two hours I’m supposed to start work–helping some friends pack for their upcoming move–so I’m doing my level best to knock this out in record time. What would that be nice, Marcus, to write for twenty minutes and stop? (Yes, yes, it would.)

Currently I’m elated because I DID NOT wake up in the middle of the night last night shivering and sick like I did the night before. Granted, my stomach is still “meh” and I don’t have a boatload of energy, but hey–I do appear to be on the mend.

This is cause for celebration.

Okay. A few things that have been on my mind today–

1. The language of dreams

Yesterday I blogged about the different languages that our right and left brains speak, specifically that the right brain speaks in pictures, myths, and dreams. Then last night I dreamed that I was in a church, a dream location that comes up for me–uh–occasionally. A number of key players in my life were there with me, including—are you ready for this?–my cell phone, which I was recharging. Then there were a few characters I didn’t know but was getting to know–one that (I think) represents my inner writer, one that represents my inner healer.

Normally, I would spend more time analyzing this dream. At first glance, I assume it has to do with the sacred within me (the church), taking time to rest (recharging), and owning my different archetypes and abilities (writer and healer). However, one of my takeaways from the book I read yesterday is that your left brain doesn’t HAVE to analyze and make sense of your right brain’s communication. In other words, you don’t have to understand your right brain’s images–BECAUSE IT ALREADY DOES. It creates the images, it understands them.

So for now it’s enough for me to visualize the images from last night’s dream and to meditate on them, trusting that my right brain can and will use them appropriately–for change, transformation, and healing.

2. The size of the universe

At breakfast my mom showed me a 60 Minutes special about the Hubble Space Telescope. First, wow!–the universe is frickin’ big. Second, the special explained that you and I are literally made of star dust. The calcium and iron in your body and blood? That comes from the creation of galaxies. So the next time you look up in the night sky, remember–that’s where you were born. (The bad news? You’re MUCH older than you think you are.) But if you’re ever having a rough day (I’ve heard people have them), think about this–you’re one and the same with the cosmos–never separate–and just as large and as deep and beautiful and mysterious as anything else in the sprawling heavens.

You’re indescribable.

3. Hello, I’m sorry

Big props to my mom this week, since a few days ago she introduced me to SOMETHING ELSE on television–a singer named James Graham on The Four. In the show’s final episode, James sings Adele’s “Hello,” and I can’t stop watching it. First, he absolutely kills it. Not only does the audience know it, but the judges do too. I love watching their faces. And the girl he’s competing against? She knows it most of all. Her face says, “I’m toast.” But secondly, the song itself is powerful. It’s obviously about one ex-lover apologizing to another, but I often think of it as being about part of me apologizing to another part of me–my adult to my inner child, my left brain to my right brain.

Hello, it’s me / I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet / To go over everything / To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

Because ultimately, I believe that’s where most our pain comes from, when we disconnect from our own loving hearts, when we stop listening to our inner guidance and dreams, when we forget how beautiful we really are.

[Note: When I posted this originally–about an hour ago–I got the right and left brains switched up, stating that the left brain thinks in pictures. It’s fixed now. The right brain is the one that does that.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"There are a lot of benefits to being right here, right now."

My Right Brain Walks on Water (Blog #497)

Ick. Gross. Crap.

Last night–in the middle of the night–I woke up shivering, absolutely freezing. In an absolute mental fog, I threw on an extra blanket and went back to sleep. Finally, I dragged my weak and weary ass out of bed this afternoon at two. The good news is that I didn’t (and don’t) have a fever. The bad news is that my energy level has been seriously in the red, and my stomach has been–once again–cramping. And one more terrible thing–I haven’t had a cup of coffee the entire day–not one single drop. (It hasn’t sounded good.)

That’s how I know things are serious.

Now it’s ten in the evening, and after spending most of the day in bed either reading or napping, I feel slightly better, a bit more energetic. (A bit.) Like, I can hold my head up without the support of three prayer candles and the Archangel Michael. That being said, I do have a good appetite and am keeping food down, so that’s something. Maybe–just maybe–I simply caught a twenty-four hour bug or ate something that disagreed with me. Maybe I’m not coming down with the flu for the third time this year–or dying.

That’d be really great–to not die just yet.

I guess we’ll see what happens tonight. Honestly, I think it’s a shit deal, the way a person can go to bed–exhausted, sure–but pretty much feeling finer than frog hair, and then the body can wake him (or her) up in the middle of a perfectly good dream by shivering, shaking, and twitching (or throwing up, or what have you). Talk about a rude awakening. Seriously, what the hell? From now on, I’m requesting that my body save all its complaints and dramatic activities for daylight hours.

Of course, I can imagine my body saying, “Hey turd, we TRY talking to you during the day, but YOU DON’T LISTEN.”

In which case I would have to respond–“Valid point.”

The book I’ve been reading today is called The Language of Change by Paul Watzlawick. The book was quoted several times in the hypnosis book I recently finished and is largely about the two sides of the brain (left and right) and how each side “thinks” and “speaks” differently than the other. In short, the left side thinks rationally and analytically, in words and “facts.” The right side, however, thinks creatively, in pictures and generalizations. As I understand it, a person’s world view, or their “this is the way things are,” is developed and held in their right brain first, AND THEN their left brain is used to justify it.

Think about THAT.

The book contends–and it makes sense to me–that since a person’s beliefs (and therefore their “reality”) is held in their right brain, it doesn’t make sense for them or their therapist to try to change or address their beliefs with left-brain language. Think about the number of times you’ve attempted to convince someone logically (that is, with your left brain) that they’re not bad-looking, or not a terrible dancer, or whatever. But if you were to speak the language in which that person’s beliefs were originally formed–well–then you might be getting somewhere. This is why metaphors and visualizations can work in changing beliefs and behaviors–because, like dreams, they are based on pictures, the language of the right brain. Likewise, this is why myths are important–because they use powerful images or symbols to communicate important ideas and ways of being–to your right brain. They’re not INTENDED to be taken as facts or even make sense to your left brain, that part of you that might (logically) ask, “Well, now, how COULD a person walk on water?!”

You can rise above.

Personally, I intend to start paying more attention to both my body’s signals (like, to get more rest) and my right brain’s pictures and dreams. Because, like Sergeant Friday on Dragnet, I’ve got the left-brain thing down. (Just the facts, Ma’am.) I can rationalize and analyze all day long. I can give you a hundred reasons why something won’t happen, shouldn’t happen. And yet there’s this other part of me–half of my brain!–that knows anything is possible, that firmly believes no matter how badly the storms in my life may rage around me, they don’t have the power to bring me down. This is the part of me that says, “You can rise above anything,” the part that says, “You can walk on water.”

[When I originally posted this blog–last night–I got the right and left brains switched up, stating that the left brain thinks in pictures and dreams. It’s fixed now. It’s the right brain that does that.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries are about starting small, enjoying initial successes, and practicing until you get your relationships like you want them. 

"

What Would My Therapist Do? (Blog #496)

Today I woke up early-early-early to get blood drawn at my doctor’s office–cholesterol, thyroid, testosterone (GRRR). Afterwards–because I was feeling faint–I went to a donut shop and overloaded on sugar and caffeine. Honestly, I could have crashed, gone back to bed. But I was already awake and out of the house–I had clothes on for crying out loud!–so I spent the morning chugging coffee and reading my book on alchemy and mysticism. Only a hundred more pages to go!

This afternoon I poked around in one of my favorite used bookstores and unearthed two psychology books that I’ve been looking for. (They’re on Amazon, of course, but I think it’s more fun to find them in person.) Then at lunch a waiter at a local burrito shop made my day when I placed my order (three tacos) and he smiled and said, “I feel like The Three Tacos are the most undervalued item on our menu.”

Beaming because I had the good taste to value something others apparently don’t, I said, “Well, I for one appreciate a good taco.”

Or three.

My next and last stop for the day was seeing my therapist, and I realized even before getting there that I was in a good mood. This is nearly always the case on therapy days. First, my therapist is consistently funny, insightful, and uplifting, so there’s an anticipation and expectation that things will go well. Second, I often use therapy days to do things I love–read a book, peruse book and antique stores, eat tacos–like I did today. I mention this because I’m starting to realize how important it is to notice the things that put you in a cheerful mood–activities you participate in, thoughts you think (like, I’m a good person. I value tacos.) Then if you find yourself in a shit mood, you’ve got some reliable things you can try to shift you into a better one.

My personal shortlist of feel-good actions:

  • Get out of the house (get some sun)
  • Go for a walk
  • Read a book
  • Buy a book
  • Listen to eighties music (current favorite: “Private Eyes” by Hall and Oates)
  • Eat a taco (feel-good bonus: while listening to eighties music)
  • Flirt with a stranger
  • Window shop and daydream about when I can afford more things
  • Look at the stars

My therapist and I talked about this stuff today, the idea that you can create touchstone actions to help encourage better feelings, and she said you can also create touchstone thoughts to do the same thing. This part of the conversation came up because the hypnosis book I read yesterday said that when you’re in a downtrodden or sourpuss mood, it’s often because you’ve forgotten something good and positive in your life. For example, if you’re thinking, I CAN’T go up and talk to that person, in that moment you’re forgetting all the times you HAVE talked to a stranger, all the times you HAVE been confident and outgoing. So my therapist suggested having a shortlist of thoughts that make you feel happy and strong whenever you think about them–like that time your friend or relative did that one thing and you couldn’t stop laughing, or that person you love more than anything else in the whole-wide world, or that thing you did that you thought you couldn’t and are really proud of.

See–doesn’t that feel good?

Personally, I’m working on become more aware of my thoughts. After reading the hypnosis book, I know that MOST of my bad moods don’t come from what I physically feel (kinesthetic) or what I see either in the world or in my head (visual), but rather from thoughts I think (auditory). In short, there’s a lot of internal bitching, a lot of “this isn’t good enough.” But lately I’ve been catching myself mid-thought and audibly saying, “Stop.” Then I’ve been turning whatever the situation is into a joke, like “there I go again,” or otherwise trying to “lighten up.” Armed with my shortlists, I’ve started telling myself, I don’t have to make a problem where there isn’t one. I know how to feel good.

I know how to value and appreciate tacos AND myself.

Another thing my therapist and I discussed was “three strikes and you’re out,” something that came up because I’ve recently been putting up some bad (rude) behavior from an acquaintance of mine. My therapist said, “If you flake out on me once, shit happens. If you do it twice, you’re on thin ice. If you do it three times–[here she held out her closed fist then suddenly opened her fingers wide]–mic drop!” Later my therapist said that many of her clients–whenever they’re uptight, frustrated, downtrodden, or “in a pickle” with another person–will think, What would my therapist do (or say or think) in this moment? (WWMTD?) In other words, Would she put up with this shit?

If you don’t have a therapist, you could say, “What would a mentally healthy person do?” (If you don’t know a mentally healthy person–that’s a problem.)

You can be more discriminating.

This is something I’ve really been focused on lately–healthy models for change–since it’s become really clear to me that we all have default ways of thinking and responding to our environment, but there ARE other ways of being in the world. Like, just because I do a lot of internal griping, doesn’t mean everyone does or that I HAVE to. It’s simply a habit, and my mind IS CAPABLE of learning something new. Or just because I’ve always given people a million chances, doesn’t mean I have to for the rest of my life. I CAN BE more discriminating–in my thoughts, actions, and relationships.

I AM being more discriminating.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."

The Sound of My Shoes Splashing (Blog #495)

For the last three days, my stomach has been upset something awful. I’m not doubled over in pain or anything–it’s not time to call an ambulance–but it has felt like a pubescent demon has been poking at my insides with his pitchfork.

Stop, demon, stop.

When I was a teenager, I had stomach problems constantly. I have so many memories of being curled up in my bed, knees to my chest. I used to toss back calcium tablets like they were candy corn. My therapist once said she thought my tummy troubles were because I was repressing my true (and fabulous) self. “You don’t think it was just a bad case of gas?” I said. Anyway, those days are mostly over. Mostly. A few years ago an ulcer (or something) did show up uninvited and lasted several weeks. I wanted to scream.

Well, get this shit.

In the midst of my last great intestinal undoing, I picked up a remodel job that required that I completely tear apart a friend’s subfloor, which had rotted due to water damage. I think it took two days and every hammer, crowbar, and power tool I had to bust up the tile, rip apart the linoleum underneath, and pull out the old plywood. Talk about feeling like a man. I’ve never done so much grunting in all my life. But the best part is that after I spent two afternoons absolutely fucking a floor up(!), my stomach problems completely went away.

Just like that.

My therapist said–in this instance–she thought my stomach problems were a direct result of my tendency to internalize my emotions (who, me?) and that busting some shit up was a good way for me to “get the poison out.” She’s recommended this strategy on a number of occasions–throw something, go for bike ride, break a damn sweat.

Believe it or not, I have been thinking about this advice the last few days while my stomach acids have been bubbling up and boiling over my intestinal cauldron. Actually, even BEFORE my stomach began hurting, I was thinking, I need to start walking again, maybe even running. But it’s been so damn hot. And I’ve been tired. (And drinking beer.) But when I woke up this morning and my belly was STILL hurting, I thought, Today’s the day–I’ve got to do something. So this afternoon I went to the health-food store and got some ginger/peppermint tea, as well as some kombucha, a probiotic drink that I was consistently ingesting before my recent two-week vacation but haven’t had since I’ve returned home. And whereas I think they helped, I kept thinking, Go for a run, Marcus. Get out of the house.

But again–it was like a hundred degrees outside, and I prefer to run at night.

Finally, just about the time the sun was going down and a thunderstorm warning was being issued for our area, I decided to take off. “I’m going for a run,” I told my parents, “but it’s supposed to rain.” My dad, engrossed in some television program, didn’t even look up. “You won’t melt.” So I stuffed a Ziploc bag in my pocket to protect my phone if it started raining and hit the pavement.

A half-mile in, the wind started picking up, blowing dust and trash across the road. It was like something from the movie Tombstone. Part of me thought, Marcus, go home before a tornado picks you up and sweeps you off to Oz. But surrounded by dark, billowing clouds and feeling the air push against my skin, another part of me thought, Keep running–this is what it feels like to be alive. (Don’t worry, Mom, it wasn’t lightning–very bad.) About twenty minutes in, the bottom of the sky fell out, so I ran up under a pine tree and slipped my phone into the Ziploc bag. Then I pulled my shirt off, shoved it in my pocket, and kept going.

Within minutes, I was soaked to the bone, but I was loving it–smiling, laughing, evening yelling along with the thunder (getting the poison out). Alternating running and walking, I played in the rain for two miles until I made it home, sometimes watching the “rivers” run along the sides of the streets, sometimes listening to my tennis shoes splash-splash-splash through the puddles, but never once thinking about my stomach.

That was two hours ago, and–go figure–my stomach is better. Maybe not perfect, but good enough that I’ve been going significant stretches of time without thinking about it. So that’s something. This afternoon I finished a hypnosis book that said if you’re having physical (kinesthetic) pain and can focus on something you see (visual) or hear (auditory), your pain will lessen or neutralize because it switches you over to a different input/output system. (You may want to try it NOW). So maybe that’s what happened. Or maybe it was the kombucha and ginger tea. Or maybe I had internalized a handful of emotions and frustrations (I DID just complete a road trip with my immediate family) and was able to EXTERNALIZE them.

We all need to feel alive.

Personally, I’m inclined to think it was the running and externalizing, since my body has been telling me for the last few days that it wants to run. So often I forget this, that the body has wisdom and knows what it needs. I’ve spent a lot of time lately inside with my nose in a book. I love reading, of course, but it’s easy to sit inside and 1) think I can solve everything with a book and 2) concentrate on my problems. And whereas these two activities are fun on a certain level (who doesn’t like to read and wallow?), neither of them feel like the rain on my face or sound like my shoes splash-splash-splashing through the puddles. Yes, we all need this–both once in a while and fundamentally–to connect with nature, to be soaked to the bone, to feel alive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries are about starting small, enjoying initial successes, and practicing until you get your relationships like you want them. 

"

On Symbols and Transformation (Blog #494)

Today I have done nothing but eat, sleep, and read. I’ve read so much, my brain has turned to slush. I expect any minute now it will run out my ears and onto my shoulders. Even if it did, I’m too tired, too physically depleted to care. I’ve been wiped out all day, despite sleeping in this morning and taking a nap this afternoon.

My body is a mystery.

Currently it’s past midnight, and I’m on information overload. Earlier I finished a book on the meaning of symbols, and since then I’ve read a few chapters in a book about hypnosis and over a hundred pages in a six-hundred page book about alchemy and mysticism. Don’t ask me to intelligently summarize anything I’ve read today. Not that I haven’t learned anything, but it just hasn’t congealed yet. My inner perfectionist wishes I had instant understanding and recall of everything I read, but that’s simply not the way learning works for me. I need exposure and then application before understanding comes.

And sleep, I need sleep.

One thing I have learned–about symbols, specifically–is that they speak to both our conscious and subconscious minds. A simple as letters on a page or as complex as a mandala, symbols can range from the jewelry you put on each day to the dreams have each night, and are essentially forms of communication–a crown that denotes royalty, black clothes that indicate mourning, a red door that means “you’re welcome here.” And whereas some symbols have to be explained, others are automatically comprehended by the subconscious. For example, the four points of the cross stand for the four elements (fire and water, air and earth) or the four cardinal directions (north and south, east and west) of the physical world. So–among other things–the image of Christ on the cross is about going beyond all pairs of opposites. It’s about finding your center point, your immovable spot, your soul. But if you’re organically drawn to this image, no one has to tell you what it means. Part of you gets it.

The way I think about it, symbols CALL US to be something we CAN BE but aren’t currently. They’re like examples, seeds that are planted in our minds that, if properly tended to, can grow into the thing they stand for. Honestly, I’m not sure they work if they’re used logically and rationally and not mysteriously. Like, several years ago I bought a picture of a man dancing, then later bought a chandelier with several children dancing along the edges. I’m a dancer, of course, but it wasn’t about that. The IMAGES simply compelled me. They still do. Looking at them now, I know it’s because, deep down, I associate them with freedom. They communicate to my spirit (or rather, they communicate FROM my spirit) that there’s another way–a lighter, less encumbered way–to move about in this world.

I hope this makes sense. The point is that symbols have the power to awaken within us dormant energies or ways of being if used correctly. By correctly I mean that you have to personally identify with the symbol–it has to to you in some way, and no one else (including me) can tell you what a specific symbol means. If you look at the crucifix and want to vomit because you had a bad experience in Catholic school–well–find yourself another image. Or if dancers don’t give you a sense of peace and freedom but the beach does, go with that.

Put some sand on the back of your toilet. Hang a picture of the seashore on your wall.

The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

Lately I’ve been chewing on the idea that both symbols and the subconscious are powerful and capable forces. For years I’ve read about people who were “free” and wondered if I ever would be one of them. Internally, that is. But I’m learning to trust that just as I can read information, apply it, and watch it come together, I can also trust that I’m attracted to the symbols I’m attracted to for a reason; my life is coming together too. In other words, the symbols that fascinate us aren’t there to tease us (look what you can’t have); they’re there to transform us. Personally, I’m coming to respect them more and more. Because they work. I used to look at those dancers and think, Wouldn’t that be nice to be free? But now I think, Yes, it IS nice, this feeling of freedom. Sometimes it even comes so naturally, I think, Part of me has been a dancer all along.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

"

On Winnie the Pooh and Waiting (Blog #493)

This morning I woke up with an upset stomach, something that rarely happens but isn’t surprising considering all the pizza, soda, and chocolate pie I ingested yesterday. Anyway, I’ve been chewing Tums all day. I’ve even swallowed baking-soda water, a home remedy my Dad swears by. I mean, it does make you burp. Now it’s just after midnight, and “I think” my stomach is better. Not great, but better.

Ick.

After waking up with tummy trouble, I went back to sleep until just after noon. Then I ate breakfast, read for a while, and took a nap. I’m not sure what it is, I just don’t feel super-duper today. Perhaps my travels are catching up to me. Regardless, this is the last place I want to be, sitting here blogging. I got my laptop out two hours ago to start working, but have only been procrastinating–that is, watching Major Crimes with Mom and Dad, researching the stars and planets, drinking a beer.

This afternoon I hopped in Tom Collins (my car) to meet my friend Bonnie to see a movie. However, Tom Collins was dead. I turned his key over, and nothing–nada–zip. And whereas my dad and I were going to jump him, we couldn’t figure out how to get him into neutral so we could roll him out of the garage and next to another vehicle. He was stuck in park. “We’ll have to deal with this later,” I said. “The movie starts soon.” So Dad let me borrow his car (that doesn’t have a name), and off I went.

Thanks, Dad.

The movie Bonnie and I saw was Christopher Robin, about the boy who used to play with Winnie the Pooh and friends but eventually grew up and forgot about the Hundred Acre Wood. It was absolutely glorious. Drop whatever you’re doing right now and go see it. (Take a box of Kleenex.) Not only is it beautifully filmed, it also conveys several ever-important messages–be yourself, don’t forget how to play, remember those whom you love, and (above all else) stand up to heffalumps and woozles.

That is, face those things that terrify you.

When I got home from the movie, Tom Collins was turned around in the garage, and I could see his red alarm light blinking. Dad’s fixed him, I thought. As it turns out, Dad brought our wonderful neighbor and his son over, and they did. I guess Tom’s battery was fine, but one of the wires that connects to the battery was loose. At some point I’ll need to replace the wire connector, but our neighbor and his son put something in between the battery post and the wire connector to keep the wire from wiggling around, so everything works for now.

Thanks, neighbor!

Help is always on the way.

One of my favorite quotes from the movie today was by Winnie the Pooh. Christopher Robin is rush-rush-rusing along, and Pooh Bear just stops. Well, Christopher is undone. “What the hell are you doing, Pooh?!” (These are my words not his.) Then Pooh says, “Sometimes if I am going somewhere and I wait, somewhere comes to me.” Ugh. What a perfect reminder. So often I run-run-run around, doing-doing-doing, trying to GET SOMEWHERE. I forget that it’s OKAY to get stuck in park once in a while. I forget that help is always on the way, dear. I forget that just as I am chasing my dreams, my dreams are chasing me.

And how are they supposed to find me if I’m always moving about?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can rewrite our stories if we want to.

"

Climbing Jacob’s Ladder (Blog #492)

This morning I woke up an hour sooner than I’d intended and couldn’t go back to sleep. I guess I got used to waking up earlier during my recent travels, and I’m blaming my Albuquerque Alarm Clock, otherwise known as my rambunctious (and adorable) nephews. Anyway, I took the opportunity to start the day slowly, to NOT–for once–hit the ground running. First I lay in bed and practiced deep breathing, tuning into the parts of my body where I hold tension, which is almost everywhere. Then I got out of bed and did a few stretches. And whereas none of it was miraculous, I did feel myself let go “slightly.”

I’m telling myself, A little progress is good progress.

Recently I read a book about tight muscles in the pelvis, and the authors said the same thing, that a little letting go, a little relaxation, is huge because you’re training the body to be in a relaxed state and not a tense one. So several times a day I’ve been checking in with my body and my mind. Am I relaxed? Am I breathing deeply? Where can I let go–just a little?

Retraining myself in this way is quite the challenge. While making breakfast this morning, I kept fighting the tendency to be doing other things–checking my phone, rearranging the knickknacks on the counter. I’m so used to being busy. But these tendencies and behaviors are just habits, and I can learn new habits. This is an idea that’s been running around in my head for a while now, that THERE ARE other ways of thinking, there are other ways of BEING in this world.

If something’s not working for you, you CAN change.

Currently it’s 12:45 PM. My natural inclination or HABIT would be to make this a longer blog, then JUMP into the shower, then rush to work. (I’m helping some friends pack today. Thank God they are respectable people. They said, “Let’s start at two in the afternoon.” None of this god-forsaken eight-in-the-morning shit.) Anyway, instead I’m doing my level best to make this short and to the point, so that I can have time to shower and such. My point is I’m trusting that this small change will–at some point–have a domino effect. Likewise, I’m trusting that a little relaxation done consistently–at some point–will have a domino effect.

This work happens slowly.

Yesterday in my book about alchemy and mysticism, I read that historic and medieval paintings often use ladders, like Jacob’s ladder, to depict the idea that personal and spiritual growth always happen in stages. Spiral staircases are used to convey the same idea–transformation is a “slow and winding” path, never a straight one. And it’s always hard work, climbing. Notice it wasn’t Jacob’s escalator. Led Zeppelin didn’t say, “And she’s buying AN ELEVATOR to heaven.” No, this work happens slowly. It’s one crooked step, then another crooked step.

So in this manner, I continue to climb.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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On Half-Assing (Blog #491)

This morning my parents and I woke up in Oklahoma City, where we stayed last night with my cousin. After a quick breakfast, we packed the car, said goodbye to my aunt (who’s staying in OKC to be with her son), and hit the road for home. Having no reason to be back, however, we took our time, stopping once for gas and once for lunch. My dad, the foodie in the family, picked the place–The Hen House in Okemah, Oklahoma. Honestly, I should have known. Dad LOVES The Hen House. It’s like sacred ground to him. The way he talks about the food there, you’d think Jesus Christ himself were in the kitchen.

“The meatloaf is WONDERFUL,” Dad said for the hundredth time today.

Honestly, my dad’s pretty easy to impress when it comes to food. Give him a hamburger–any hamburger–and he’s happier than a pig in shit. This to say that I didn’t know what to expect for my first trip to The Hen House this afternoon. Well–I was pleasantly surprised. First, the meatloaf WAS wonderful. Second, the peanut-butter pie was out of this world. I mean, I won’t go so far as to say that the lord himself could have baked it, but I’m convinced that SOMEONE divine did.

I think we got home about three this afternoon, and after I did some light unpacking, I took a nap. I mean, my family and I have been running around the country for the last two weeks, and as my therapist says, “Vacations are exhausting.” Since waking up about six, I’ve spent the entire night getting settled back in–unpacking, doing laundry, cleaning out the car, opening mail, sorting through trip receipts, planning the rest of the weekend. I’d told myself I was going to save all “work” for later and just rest, but–I don’t know–something came over me.

When I was little and we used to travel, my dad did the same thing. It didn’t matter if we got home at midnight, he’d stay up putting everything back in its proper place. Now that’s what I do. At least, that’s what I did today. Dad, however and ironically, sat on the couch with mom and binge-watched fourteen (14!) episodes of Days of Our Lives. As I was buzzing around the house, Dad said, “Maybe if I’d taken a nap, I’d have as much energy as you do.”

Whizzing by him with my dirty-clothes hamper in hand, I said, “I think it’s all the sugar that was in the peanut-butter pie!”

I mentioned a couple days ago that I left my phone charger in California, a fact that really ticks me off. Not because I don’t have another charger already (I do), but because I really LIKE owning two chargers (one for my room, one for my car). I know this is a first-world problem. Anyway, I went to Walmart tonight to replace the cord that I left in Fresno, but they didn’t have one AS LONG as I wanted.

Nothing is ever as long as you want it, Marcus.

Y’all, I stood in the electronics section for over ten minutes trying to figure out what to do–go with the shorter cord or order a longer one online and wait. Then I started getting overwhelmed, thinking, Just how long do I want this cord to be? And what color? There are SO MANY choices. But finally I thought, Why am I making this complicated? The shorter cord is good enough. Just buy the damn shorter cord and be done with it, Marcus.

So I did.

Another problem solved.

Look at me.

Once a girl I worked with said she painted an entire bedroom in a couple hours. Well, my inner perfectionist flipped shit. “You mean you didn’t use TWO COATS OF PAINT?!” I said. “Oh no,” she replied without apology, “I’m a half-asser.” Hum. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about this, the number of times I’ve silently judged her and people like her for rushing through projects and not doing them “right” or “well” according to MY standards. I apologize. (Like you’ve never judged anyone for something.) Obviously there are A LOT of different ways to live and get by in the world.

Regarding my shorter cord, sure–it’d be nice if the cord reached all the way to the other side of my bed and I could lie on my left side and browse at night. But it’d also be nice if I didn’t spend so much damn time on my phone, so maybe the shorter cord is not only a good-enough thing, but also a good thing. Plus, since I half-assed at Walmart earlier and didn’t do the one-million-choices-online nightmare, now I have MORE TIME to do other activities like blog, or read, or brush my teeth.

AND!

If I half-ass this ending,

I can go to bed now.

So let’s hear it for half-assing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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More often than not, the truth is a monster. It gets in your face and makes you get honest. Sometimes the truth separates you from people you care about, if for no other reason than to bring you closer to yourself.

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The Fires of Transformation (Blog #490)

Last night I stayed up reading a book called A Headache in the Pelvis, about how tension in the muscles of the pelvis can cause (among other things) bacterial and non-bacterial prostatitis, frequent urination, and low-back and abdominal pain. The book proposes a number of relaxation and stretching exercises to help with these issues and says that the key to relaxation is (ironically) acceptance of tension. In other words, don’t fight it. Let it be. So both last night before going to bed and today while traveling, I’ve been trying this technique–paying attention to my aches and pains while breathing deeply and trying to listen to what they may be saying.

Slow down, baby. You don’t have to work so hard.

This morning, after packing all our shit into my car (Tom Collins), my aunt, my parents, their dog, and I left my sister’s in Albuquerque. (I stepped in the dog’s shit just before we left. That’s a good omen, right?) Now we’re at my cousin’s in Oklahoma City. Currently my mother and I are sitting in the dark in the living room, since my father’s sleeping in one of the recliners in here. I think we’re all a bit worn out from the trip. Tom Collins is a comfortable ride, but thanks to our massive amount of luggage (and the coolers of drinks and bags full of snacks), we were rather cramped. Plus, it was over eight hours on the road. And personally, I’m rather sick of the road.

As my aunt said, “Next time, we’re flying.” (My dad replied, “Donna Kay, you’re not flying anywhere. Do you know what it costs to check your baggage these days?! The way you pack, you’d have to win the lottery just to afford the luggage fees.”)

To my dad’s point, my aunt DOES have one carry-on-sized suitcase filled completely and exclusively with her makeup.

I spent the entire trip today with my nose in a book about alchemy and mysticism. The book itself is concerned with historical art that conveys alchemical and mystical ideas and concepts, but what’s particularly fascinating to me is the idea of transformation. Not literally turning lead into gold, but symbolically turning lead into gold–taking something base and ugly, something that at first weighs you down, and turning it into something pure and beautiful, something that sets you free or gives you new life.

Incidentally, in classical alchemy this process of transformation was sometimes seen as occurring in five specific stages that are depicted in many paintings as corresponding birds–the raven, the swan, the peacock, the pelican, and the phoenix. (How cool is that?)

Take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths.

As I see it, we all have lead in our lives. Put another way, we all have emotional baggage we take everywhere we go. (Can you imagine if the airlines charged for THAT?) Here on earth, it’s simply the way it is; everyone gets weighed down. But honestly, I think we were meant to travel light, to let go of tension, of physical possessions, of emotional baggage. Think about it–we come here with nothing–we leave here with nothing. This is what turning lead into gold is about–traveling lighter–not lugging around more shit than you have to. And not that you suddenly forget your life experiences or magically make them disappear, but you find a way to process them so they don’t weigh you down like Jacob Marley’s chains. You take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths. Like the phoenix, you burn yourself up in the fires of transformation and rise anew from the ashes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Anything and everything is possible.

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