From Forty Feet Away (Blog #549)

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I’m currently backstage at the performing arts center in Alma working with the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. It’s dinnertime. After two full days of thinking, What the hell did I get myself into?, I’m beginning to find my stride. It’s work, of course–my body’s stiff in the all the wrong places–but today has actually been the most fun I’ve had so far. I guess this is because I’m gaining confidence in the tasks I’ve been asked to complete and also getting to know some of the people I’m working with. I keep telling myself, You can talk to strangers, Marcus. Strangers can talk to you.

Despite the fact that I thought I’d be working with props today (and therefore dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a colorful t-shirt), I’ve spent the entire day (the entire fucking day) painting. This is why you shouldn’t let people know you’re good at something–they’ll keep asking you to do it. (Thankfully, I brought paint clothes to change into.) Last night one of the girls and I worked on the trees for the Tin Man’s House, so my job today has been to finish the rest of that set–touch up the bushes in the back, spruce up the grass floor, and completely redo the base. This has been quite the challenge, matching all the colors, but I’m getting better and better at mixing paints together. I feel like Bob Ross.

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”

Here’s a picture of the base BEFORE I started this morning. Notice that it’s pretty banged up from being on the road.

The base–I’ve been told–is supposed to look like bamboo. (I didn’t get that either.) But apparently in Oz, bamboo is white and shadows are blue. Anyway, in order to make this particular base look like some of the others used in the show, I started with a solid coat of white, sponged on blue all the way around, added blue lines about half an inch or an inch apart (this took forever), sponged on more blue, and finally added some red/brown grass at the bottom. Take a took.

Here’s a picture of the “grass” before. Well, the right side is before. The left side has one coat of sponged-on new green.

Here’s the grass after. I used three–well, I think, five–different greens.

Despite the kinks in my shoulders this project has produced, I really am proud of it. I absolutely adore musical theater–it has such power to positively affect a person–and I love that I’ve gotten to participate from the other side, to play one small part.

When my supervisor saw the completed Tin Man’s House, she said, “Marcus, that–looks–gorgeous!” Someone else said, “That’s the best that thing will ever look.” Of course, I know where all my mistakes are, all the details that could have been “better,” whatever that means. But one of the the construction guys said, “You have to remember that people with cataracts are looking at these sets from forty feet away.” This is a good reminder. Personally, I think it applies not only to musical scenery but also to humans. We’re so tough on ourselves. We pick ourselves apart. We zoom in our bodies and imagine our “flaws” to be bigger than they really are, flaws another might not even see, acknowledge, or care about. From forty, or even four feet away, another might remark, “You–look–gorgeous!”

[Incidentally, I realized on the way to work this morning that yesterday’s blog (#548) officially marked a solid year and a half of blogging. Woowho! And so this journey continues.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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On My Defenses (Blog #548)

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Today is day two working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and it’s currently dinner time. Yesterday evening I worked along with my supervisor painting the wicked witch’s castle and was absolutely rung out when we called it a night at 10:30. I had paint everywhere. Still, the cool thing about working on these pieces is finding out how all the smoke and mirrors work. For instance, despite the fact that the bottom or inside of the witch’s castle is hollow, they make it looks like she melts into the floor. Absolute magic!

Take a look at the almost-finished product. There’s just a little touch up to do.

This morning we unloaded the final semi truck, then hung the backdrops up. This is apparently called a Drop Party. (Drop it like it’s hot.) Here’s something fun–this show uses 6 to 8 painted drop cloths, which I was told can easily cost $10,000 a piece. Think about that the next time you think ticket prices are high. Entertainment this good doesn’t come cheap! Anyway, all the painted cloths are missing a section in one of their bottom corners, a part that’s been deliberately cut out. This is called a Boston Square, since the city of Boston requires that a section of all drop cloths be cut out, sent in, and verified as flame retardant.

This afternoon I worked repairing and touching up two giant trees that are used in Oz. This has been my favorite project so far, as it’s been a lot like repairing and touching up walls–patch the holes, sand them down, cover up the scuff marks. But in this case, since both trees are completely blue, it was just a matter of mixing darks and lights and “swirling” them together with my hands. Y’all, it was like finger painting. So fun. So pretty. That being said, my fingers are a complete mess. I guess the sticky foam I used to patch the holes and the super glue I used to put some of the chipped-off pieces back on also STICK TO HUMAN FLESH. (Mine). So now I look like I murdered a Smurf with my bare hands.

Here’s a picture of me and the tree trunks. The tree tops are currently hidden behind one of the side curtains (which are called “legs”). But I swear–they look gorgeous.

After I finished with the trees, I worked a little more on the witch’s castle, then returned to Dorothy’s house, which was one of my projects yesterday. Y’all, this house is the bane of my existence. One of the boards needed to be replaced, so my job has been to make the new board look like the others. This is almost impossible, since each board is a mixture of–I don’t know–half a dozen paints. And despite the fact that my supervisor keeps calling me an artist, I’m much more comfortable smearing paints with my fingers than I am using a brush to try to make a new board look like an old board. Anyway, I nearly started crying, as my inner perfectionist was really giving me shit about the whole affair. “This isn’t good enough,” he kept saying.

But then, like an angel, my supervisor said, “That looks AWESOME, Marcus. Be done!”

Sometimes we are our own worst critic. And by “sometimes,” I mean, “all the time.”

This last year I’ve blogged several times with my problem/obsession with body odor. The issue started after I’d been on antibiotics, and I’ve tried everything under the sun to clear it up. Well, I really thought I had it tackled. I haven’t noticed it in a solid month. But every time I’ve raised my arms today, I’ve thought, Dear God, is that me?! I don’t know–maybe it’s just normal “man smell” and not what I dealt with before. It’s been such a struggle and point of neurosis for me, I really can’t be objective about it. But it’s still been stressing me out. It’s one thing to be offensive to myself, but I don’t want to be offensive to anyone else. And whereas during this ENTIRE ordeal, no one has avoided me or said anything about it (even my friends with whom I dance), I keep imagining myself as Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, walking around with a cloud of stench about me.

This is me AFTER four years of therapy.

Not last night but the night before, I dreamed that an acquaintance of mine, whom I would describe as a kind, gentle man, was wearing a concealed pistol on his right shoulder. When I woke up, I thought, This has to do with the fact that I’m so defensive, always on guard. Like, I know my inner perfectionist is SUCH A HARD ASS because deep down, I’m really afraid of not being good enough. Perhaps more than that, I’m afraid of making someone mad or angry, even though I can’t remember the last time someone “went off” on me. And I think it’s appropriate that the pistol was on this guy’s right shoulder, as my right shoulder is where I carry A LOT of tension and is the cause–I think–of the headaches I get at least two or three times a week. They’re miserable–exhausting. Being constantly on guard is miserable–exhausting. So I’ve been telling myself I’ve got to get this gun off my shoulder. I can’t keep being so hard on myself. I have to let my defenses down.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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My Emotional Oil Can (#547)

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It’s six in the evening, and I’ve been working–like, honest to god working–since eight this morning. Y’all, this is manual labor–for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz–unloading boxes, painting sets, whatever they want (that’s what I do). I didn’t even know this was a thing, working backstage for a touring musical. But apparently this show hires three or four dozen locals wherever they go. I got involved because I have a friend who runs the performing arts center here in Alma, where the show will go on next weekend.

As I understand it, a show will often “load in” the day before or even the day of a performance and “load out” the day after. However, the crew and all their equipment came in a full week early in order to touch up sets and run rehearsals for anyone new on staff. So this is my full-time job for the next ten days, including today. Anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day, with union-mandated breaks for lunch and dinner. I’m currently on my dinner break–in my car–blogging.

I’ve got an hour to finish writing. And eat something. I should probably eat something.

This morning I helped unload boxes full of god knows what from three semis. I guess the show has four semis, but one isn’t here yet. Then I stood around for a good while doing really not a damn thing. As someone who’s used to being productive every minute of every damn day, this was a challenge for me–to wait. I mean, I’m being paid and WANT to be useful, helpful. But I guess that’s part of the deal–you work when someone asks you to work–which someone did eventually ask me to do. “Can you pick up donuts for everyone?” my friend said.

“Gladly,” I said.

Y’all, I don’t know if this donut thing is going to happen every day, but I personally think god has a sick sense of humor–asking a man who’s trying to lose weight to be the donut runner. Can you believe that I picked up 120 donuts and a dozen bagels for everyone here and didn’t eat a single one of them? Instead, I ate a protein bar.

We’ll see how long my resolve lasts.

At lunch I ran home to grab a change of clothes, as I was assigned to the prop mistress, and she said we’d be painting sets. I think that’s the right term, prop mistress. Regardless, I’m this girl’s bitch, and I’ve even been given an official title–prop head. That means that the other three or four prop people will be my bitches–I think. (I’m trying to not let it go to my head.) Anyway, back to the painting. I thought I gave that up when I quit remodeling houses, but no. I’ve spent the entire afternoon working on Dorothy’s house (that goes through the tornado and lands on the Wicked Witch of the East), the scarecrow’s post/cornfield, and–I think–Aunt Em’s chicken coop.

This process, I hate to admit, has been more stressful than I anticipated. As one of the boards on Dorothy’s house was damaged, I had to start with a blank piece of plywood and mix layer of paint with layer of paint until it looked like old, rickety wood. What’s more, it had to match–or blend–with the rest of the house. Of course, I’ve had to do all this to someone else’s specifications, which has been a humbling lesson for me. I’m so used to being in charge, especially in charge of all my creative endeavors. But today I’ve been the student, “the help.” When critiqued, my ego has hated it. When praised, it’s soared.

Criticism and praise. Two sides of the same coin. Either way, same pay.

It’s fascinating being on this side of a musical, all the little details you’d never think of sitting in your seat watching the show, the lights and cords you never see–the hidden doors and hinges. It all matters. As I’ve agonized over every brush stroke, I’ve thought, The better this is, the more magic it creates for the audience. On the back of the Tin Man’s set, there’s a note that says, “Did you remember the oil can?” This clearly has to do with the show, but I started thinking about the Tin Man and how he represents a person’s heart, and how a person’s heart can freeze up or get rusty if they don’t take care of it with their emotional oil can. Personally, I keep thinking, Am I finding reasons to complain, or to be grateful? Am I taking things personally, or giving grace to others and myself? Am I freezing up, or keeping my heart open?

Am I remembering my emotional oil can?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

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This Isn’t Brain Surgery (Blog #546)

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Things that have happened since we last spoke–

1. A good night’s rest

Last night I slept for over ten hours. I’m convinced that my recent commitment to going to bed earlier and getting more rest is doing me nothing but good. I’m starting to covet it, even protect it. Each night I use a pair of clamps to attach a dark blanket to the frame around my window. Then I lay another blanket in front of my door that leads to the hallway. In essence, I turn my room into a cocoon. It’s this odd ritual, specifically designed to keep the light OUT. At least until I awake.

When I started this blog a year and a half ago, I’d only write in the wee morning hours–between midnight and six in the morning. So much good has come from it. Now I’m convinced–the darkness* is where we heal ourselves. At least until we awake.

*the place where our shadow lives, that part of us we’ve ignored, stuffed down, or forgotten about; the place where solitude and stillness exist; the place where you can hear yourself and meet yourself; the cocoon in which you transform

2. A bizarre dream

Early this morning I dreamed I was taking a shower, a common dream motif for me. (I’m sure it has to do with coming clean, bathing in the waters of my consciousness/unconsciousness.) Anyway, then I was throwing up moths–yes, moths–the kind that circle around your front porch light. Hundreds of them. There they were on the floor of the tub, most of them (but not all of them) dead. Some of them, I think, were still stuck in my throat. A friend or doctor said something about a prescription, but I didn’t recognize the name of the medication.

What this all means, I’m not sure. I associate moths with irritation, since they’re always eating holes in my shirts or flitting around my face. My sense when I woke up from the dream was that it had to do with my currently upset stomach, so maybe there’s something about the hundred things in my life that are irritating to me and my internal desire to voice them (moths to mouth). As my therapist says, “Get the poison out.” Or maybe I’m learning to not keep everything inside (throwing up the moths) and am closer to healing (the friend or doctor) than I realize.

3. An encouraging number

After breakfast I stepped on this scales and was delighted to find out that I’ve lost between one and a half and two and a half pounds since beginning my exercise program and “moderate” diet ten days ago. And whereas I hadn’t worked out in a few days and was thinking of giving up “this shit” altogether (because I obviously can’t do things perfectly), the number on the scale reminded me that small actions, taken not perfectly but consistently, produce results.

As someone once told me, “It’s not what you do 20 percent of the time. It’s what you do 80 percent of the time.”

So I worked out. Later, I ate a sensible dinner.

This isn’t brain surgery.

4. A moment of courage, a moment of kindness

This evening I went to the house I’ve been cleaning up for friends in order to roll their trashcan to the curb for pickup in the morning. However, since I’m working all weekend elsewhere, I wasn’t sure about getting the trashcan off the curb. Finally, I worked up the nerve to ask the neighbors down the street, who were hanging out in their driveway, if they could do it. I thought, Marcus, It’s okay to ask people for help. So when one of the daughter’s (I’m assuming) rolled their trashcan to the curb, I introduced myself and asked her for the favor. Well, she just acted confused, like she didn’t know if she could help or not. Shit, I thought, this isn’t brain surgery; it’s a trashcan. (In her defense, I’m guessing she’s in school all day tomorrow and that’s why she was unsure. Plus, teenagers suck at communication.)

Thankfully, her dad (I’m assuming) came over later and said he’d be glad to roll the trashcan back up the driveway after the trash truck comes tomorrow. And he was so nice about it. “No problem, brother,” were his exact words.

Again–
It’s okay to ask people for help.
People are kind.

5. A magical book

Yesterday I started reading a book called Into the Magic Shop by James R. Doty, MD, and tonight I finished it. I absolutely adore books like this–ones you can be absorbed into, be spellbound by.

Doty’s book is part autobiographical, part informative (he’s a neurosurgeon, so this IS brain surgery for him), part instructive (on the topics of mindfulness and visualization). And whereas I’ve read so many books on mindfulness and visualization that I want to vomit up a hundred moths, this one is different in the best possible way. More than once I found myself weeping as Doty describes his painful childhood, his desire for a better life, the magical woman who miraculously showed up and taught him how to open his heart and have everything he could ever want, and what has ultimately brought him happiness. (Hint–it’s not what he thought it would be.)

Doty says, “It’s easy to connect the dots of a life in retrospect, but much harder to trust the dots will connect together and form a beautiful picture when you’re in the messiness of living a life.” Amen. For anyone (like me) who’s waiting and desperately wanting the dots of their life to be connected, Doty’s story offers hope on almost every page. It’s a glorious tale gloriously told.

I don’t know what else to say. Read it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One thing finishes, another starts. Things happen when they happen.

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As It Turns Out, I’m Regular (Blog #545)

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Last night’s post took longer than expected, and I was up until 2:30 in the morning. Then I didn’t sleep so great, despite the fact that I was exhausted. I’m blaming the beautiful full moon. Oh well, it’s not the first pretty thing that’s kept me up all night. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) Anyway, this morning I awoke early for two meetings, and I’ve been groggy ever since. Now it’s ten at night, and I’m going to try–try–to be in bed in an hour.

You can do this, Marcus.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and she pointed out that I often say, “Is that normal?” Like, I’ll go on about some feeling or response I’ve had recently, then ask, “Uh, am I a freak?” I never say it like that, but isn’t that what we all want to know? Is it NORMAL to be angry or resentful, NORMAL to be pissed off or passive aggressive, NORMAL to still be hung up on someone or something that happened years ago, NORMAL to dream of killing (or fucking) a total stranger?

Well, is it?

My therapist said, “I think it’s funny that after all this time in therapy, you still think there’s such a thing as normal.”

I said, “I see you point. Soooooo–”

“It’s regular,” she said. “Yes, it’s very REGULAR.”

So that’s good to know. My internal reactions and fantasies are REGULAR.

Like a menstrual cycle!

Another thing my therapist and I talked about was loneliness, which is something I’ve occasionally experienced along this path of self-growth, usually after having a big confrontation or “going against the crowd.” I said, “It’s difficult to speak your truth. It’s hard to live differently than everybody else.” My therapist said, “I get it. And usually when I’m lonely, I take time to let it be. I don’t force it to go away. Eventually, it does.”

After therapy I went to the library and ended up reading an entire (short) book about spirituality while curled up on a couch in one of the reading rooms. Oddly enough, the author said that a frequent response to personal or spiritual growth is loneliness or grief, his explanation being that as you become your true self (or as you become born again), your false (neurotic, worried, people-pleasing) self necessarily has to die, and this false self is what you’re missing when you feel loneliness or grief. Don’t worry, he said, you’re better off without the old you, and the feeling will pass.

Another takeaway from the book for me was the idea that whenever you’re upset, angry, resentful, or whatever, it’s good to stop and notice WHERE those feelings are taking place. Obviously, the answer is INSIDE YOU, even if someone cut you off in traffic or stomped on your toe in order to stir them up. This is a good reminder to me, that I have an internal atmosphere that I’m responsible for, and that I don’t have to entertain every feeling that invites itself over for dinner. While driving home this evening and in response to other drivers, I started to get “peeved” a couple of times–however briefly–but then thought, It’s not worth it.

As Wayne Dyer used to say, I want to feel good.

Also, I want to go to bed.

[Here’s something funny. After I named tonight’s blog–As It Turns Out, I’m Regular–it occurred to me that I once named a blog something similar–As It Turns Out, I’m Normal. So I looked it up. Strangely enough, it was penned almost exactly a year (366 days) ago.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Transformation doesn’t have a drive thru window. It takes time to be born again.

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On Melting Witches (Blog #544)

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Tonight I finally finished cleaning the house that belongs to my friends who recently moved. It’s been a process, and I didn’t tackle the master bedroom until tonight because we needed to get new carpet installed first, which happened last week. Anyway, this afternoon I filled a bucket with soap and water in the kitchen and hauled it upstairs into the bedroom. Then, like I did in the rest of the house a couple weeks ago, I scrubbed every wall from top to bottom, then wiped down the baseboards. It was a slow process.

Inch by inch.

This evening I took a break for dinner, then returned to my friends’ former bedroom to vacuum the new carpet, since the installation process left the place looking like what might happen if a litter of puppies were let loose in a store full of teddy bears. And whereas I began with the main vacuum attachment–the one with the motorized brush the “sweeps” everything up into the machine, the rotary motion of the brush just whacked all the little carpet pieces from one spot on the floor to another. Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, so I used another attachment, one without a motor. However, since this attachment was the size of a pocket harmonica, it didn’t make for quick work. You should have seen me down on my knees pushing and pulling this thing back and forth across five hundred square feet of carpet.

Inch by inch.

Caroline Myss says that when you’re working on becoming conscious, you’ll inevitably create situations in your life in which you’re forced to face your fears, situations that will allow you to bring your shadow into the light. For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy is unable to speak up to Miss Gulch when the old hag takes away her everything, her dog Toto. (Toto means “everything” in Latin.) So before she can get back home (to her authentic, empowered self), Dorothy has to face Miss Gulch in the form of the Wicked Witch of the West. When she does, she soaks the witch with water, and the witch melts away. At this point, Dorothy has the witch’s broom. That is to say, her conscious self now has the power that previously belonged to her unconscious fear.

This tale has been on my mind today because I recently turned down a job offer, a dance thing. And whereas I’m absolutely certain that I made the right decision, it was a difficult decision to make because it brought up all my fears about scarcity and lack. Like, What if other opportunities don’t come along? And what if I disappoint someone?

Scarcity, lack, and what my therapist calls “fear of the response”–these are my big witches.

Joseph Campbell says that when you’re on YOUR path and not someone else’s, you don’t have to worry about facing your witches (he calls them dragons) because you’ll have help along the way. His term for this help is magical aid. Dorothy has Glinda the Good Witch, Cinderella has her fairy godmother, Luke Skywalker has Yoda, and Frodo has Gandalf. Personally, I have my therapist, who’s reminded me on a number of occasions that you can NEVER go wrong when you trust yourself (as in, this isn’t right for me right now) or act from an attitude of abundance instead of lack (as in, there will be other opportunities).

There’s a verse in the Bible that says, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of heaven.” I often say that I don’t suggest the path of personal and spiritual growth to others. My point is–this path, though rewarding, is not fun, since once you give the light of your consciousness permission to go roaming about in the dark of your internal basement, it will end up cleaning your entire house inch by inch. In other words, it will affect every part of your life–every relationship, every dynamic, every personal viewpoint.

Toto.

Melting witches is messy business.

This internal cleaning and process of transformation feels like being slung about by a tornado and NOT like skipping down the Yellow Brick Road. You will WANT to look back and you will WANT to quit, since it is in no way whatsoever enjoyable to have all your witches and dragons trotted out before you so that you can stare them down and become empowered. Granted, the results are lovely, but the process itself is terrifying. Often, there’s (figurative) bloodshed involved. (My recent situation worked out well, but in facing other fears and confronting other issues, I’ve lost friendships.) Simply put, melting witches is messy business. I don’t recommend it.

That is, of course, unless you want to get back home.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Today’s Affirmation (Blog #543)

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Ugh. This afternoon I worked cleaning up a friend’s garage and backyard and got filthy dirty, absolutely covered in sweat and deep-woods bug repellent. I love being employed, but yuck. Thankfully, all that’s left to do is bundle up some branches and set them by the road. Anyway, I rushed home afterwards in order to take a shower (ah-glorious) then head to a dance lesson with my friends Bonnie and Todd at their house. Running a bit behind, I texted Bonnie–“I’m on my way.”

Bonnie’s reply: Thumbs up.

Arriving at Bonnie and Todd’s, I let myself in the front door and found Bonnie and Todd in the kitchen. “Want some dinner?” they said. “The answer’s always yes,” I replied. What a lovely surprise! I thought. Anyway, when we finished dinner, I said, “Are y’all ready to dance?”

They paused.

“Didn’t we schedule that for tomorrow night?”

I paused.

“Oh crap. That’s right, we did. I guess I got confused.”

Y’all, these are the kinds of friends (and dance students) you want to have. Not only did Bonnie and Todd rise to the occasion and do their scheduled lesson a night in advance, but they also didn’t make a fuss about the fact that I invited myself over and ended up eating half their evening meal.

I said, “What did you think when I sent the message about me being on my way?”

Bonnie said, “I thought, Marcus is coming over!”

Later I joked, “Normally I’m running late to almost everything, but tonight–for once!–I was EXTREMELY EARLY.”

Now it’s 11:30, and I’m ready for bed. I’m plumb wore out. I haven’t read a single page of anything all day. The only thing I want to do is crawl into bed with a book about the constellations and read until I pass out. Or just pass out. I need to take care of myself. This promises to be a long week–full of work and plenty other things to do–so the more rest I get, the better. My affirmation for today is, I take care of my body, and my body takes care of me.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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Natura Non Facit Saltus (Blog #542)

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Last night I lay in bed until three reading a book about gothic churches that I downloaded on my phone. The book points out that gothic architecture was specifically designed and intended to speak to a person’s soul in terms of transformation. For example, in Notre Dame in Paris (as well as in a number of other classic cathedrals), those who enter do so from the west so that they’re facing the east, where the sun rises–the understood message being, “Leave the shadows and enter into the light.” Not surprisingly, the church itself is laid out like a cross (the longer section running east to west, the shorter section or “transept” running north to south), the cross being a symbol of heaven (the vertical) meeting earth (the horizontal), as well a symbol of death, since one must die or be crucified (figuratively speaking) before one can be transformed or born again.

Having stayed up late the last two nights, I can definitely feel it. Today my body has been–um–sluggish. Maybe I can get back to my sleep schedule tonight. As it’s been one full week since I began trying to get more sleep and exercise, today seems like a good day to reset and reevaluate. Can I reasonably keep these changes up? Where do I need to back off? Where do I need to step things up? Considering I have more work to do this week than last week, I know some adjustments are definitely in order.

This afternoon while reading about how alchemy relates to violins (I’m not kidding), I picked up a phrase that was used to describe the sound quality of a Stradivarius–strong but not strident. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Recently my therapist and I talked about being able to be DIRECT and yet still have STYLE. How can you be HONEST and not be RUDE? How can you be STRONG but NOT STRIDENT? In my experience, it takes A LOT of practice.

Like playing the violin.

This evening my aunt helped me repot a plant that she helped me originally repot, oddly enough, exactly 52 weeks ago. (Today is Sunday, September 23, 2018, and the first potting took place on Sunday, September 24, 2017. You can read about it here.) We didn’t plan it like this–it just happened. 364 days. Autumn Equinox weekend to Autumn Equinox weekend.

Here’s a picture of the plant a year ago.

Here’s a picture of it now. (Thanks, Aunt!)

It takes time to be born again.

Wow. What a wonderful visible reminder that dramatic change is possible. Of course, I can’t say WHEN exactly the plant got bigger, but it obviously did. There’s a phrase in Latin that says, “Natura non facit saltus,” or, “Nature does not make jumps.” In other words, just as the sun moves gradually from east to west and a plant puts on new leaves at a certain, sometimes undetectable pace, so does one change–slowly. The sun (at the equinoxes) spends twelve hours “in the dark.” Christ was three days in the grave. The phoenix was three days in the ashes. Unfortunately, transformation doesn’t have a drive-thru window. It takes time to be born again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If life can create a problem, it can also provide an answer.

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A Simple Acorn (Blog #541)

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Last night I had a friend visit from out-of-town, and we spent the evening catching up and partying. Specifically, at dinner, I drank a frozen margarita bigger than my head. It was delicious. I enjoyed every drop. That being said, I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, so perhaps I overdid it. I don’t know. I’m still learning about moderation.

This morning–because of the margarita–I woke up later than usual, so my no-caffeine-past-noon rule got pushed back a couple hours. Otherwise, I’ve put myself back on track today. I ate three sensible meals. I drank a lot of water. I went for a run (in the rain). I stretched.

Yesterday I blogged that I’m not exercising for the current benefits, but rather for the future benefits. In other words, I don’t need immediate results, nor do I expect the changes produced by my workouts to be like my oatmeal (instant). Granted, I’m sure there are immediate physical benefits to exercising like reduced stressed and increased blood circulation, but my point was that you don’t get a flat stomach as a reward for one jog around the neighborhood. One of my friends pointed out, however, that there ARE immediate EMOTIONAL benefits to working out. I agree. Not only do I feel more “alive” when I exercise, but I also have an increased sense of accomplishment and self-esteem as I go throughout the day.

I spent this afternoon reading a chapter or two in four different books–one about the history of alchemy, one about the sun and moon, one about why we sleep (I’ve mentioned this one before), and one about money (something that terrifies me, so I’ve decided to learn more about it). Part of me thinks I “should” just pick one book and read it all the way through, but that’s simply not how I roll. (The book about money said that anytime you use the word “should,” you could replace it with the word “want” and see if the statement is still true for you. “I WANT to pick one book and read it all the way through.” No, that’s not true for me. I’d rather read several concurrently.)

Lately I’ve been thinking about the idea of “the slight edge,” a theory (and book by Jeff Olson) that proposes (among other things) that if you were to read just ten pages in a book every day, you would reliably read three-hundred pages of new material every month. Go figure, math. Anyway, this concept can obviously be applied to other endeavors besides reading. You could eat a little better every morning. You could walk a bit further every evening. The slight edge–it’s just another way of explaining what I’ve been saying over and over again for the last week–small actions, done consistently, add up.

There’s an idea in spiritual and psychological circles that says one of the goals of healing is to take the emotional charge out of your memories. In other words, if something that happened five or fifteen or twenty-five years ago still makes you angry, upset, or distraught, that’s a clue that part of you is “stuck” there, since events that are fully processed and integrated tend to have a “neutral” quality about them. Anyway, the book I’m reading about money says the same thing–money in and of itself should be a neutral experience for you–it shouldn’t be emotionally charged with worry, shame, embarrassment, or disgust.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

One of the exercises the book proposes is to write down your top ten negative thoughts about money–you know–those “biggies” that automatically pop into your brain whenever a bill shows up in your mailbox or whenever you reach for your wallet and find it thinner than you’d like it to be. For example, one negative thought might be, “There’s never enough.” So just before blogging, I did this, then I did the next part of the exercise, which was to write an OPPOSITE thought or affirmation about money. I’ll spare you all twenty statements that I came up with, but here are four of them (two pairs of negatives and their opposites)–

Negative thought: It won’t work.
Positive thought: It will work. The universe always find a way. I always find a way.

Negative thought: I’ll always be poor.
Positive thought: I’ll always be prosperous. I couldn’t keep money away even if I wanted to.

So get this shit. Not two minutes after I finished this exercise and wrote, “I couldn’t keep money away even if I wanted to,” a friend of mine texted me about a job opportunity, some temporary work that’s available for ten days starting next week. And whereas I’m hard-headed (I thought, It won’t work), I’m not THAT hard-headed, so I checked into it, and as of now, it’s gonna happen. (I’ll write more about it as things materialize.) Granted, it’s not my dream job or my dream pay, but it is A JOB and it is GOOD PAY. Plus, it sounds fun. Like, I WANT to do it. And as my dad said, “You never know what will happen. You could meet someone. This could turn into something else.”

The universe always find a way.

One of favorite mythological images is that of the baby Jesus in the manger. Taken as a symbol and not just a matter of history, this picture of the Son of God being born in a stable teaches us to not judge a person’s (or a situation’s) potential by the package they’re delivered in. (Don’t judge a book, or a savior, by it’s cover.) Caroline Myss points out that the divine works in paradoxes. What seems big is small. What seems small is big. In other words, despise not small actions. Despise not small beginnings. The largest oak tree begins as a simple acorn.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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How You and the Seasons Change (Blog #540)

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Tomorrow is the Autumn Equinox, the day that marks the official beginning of fall and one of the two days during the year that has the same number of “light” hours as it does “dark” hours. From now until the Winter Solstice, the “days” will grow ever-shorter. Not to be a pessimist, but this means that darkness will be gradually taking over for the next three months. (Dun, dun, dun.) Still, this also means that the stars will be out for increasingly longer periods of time, and I do love looking at the stars.

This afternoon, after a full five days on my new “add a little exercise to your life, damn it” program, I made the mistake of stepping on a scale. And whereas I assumed that I would have lost, I don’t know, maybe a quarter of a pound, I actually gained an entire pound. This could be for a number of reasons, of course, including the fact that I weighed at a different time of day than I did before or the possibility that I’m gaining muscle. (Grunt.) Maybe I’m retaining fluids. (Do these jeans make my butt look big?) Regardless, it was still a wah-wah moment.

Every day when I work out, I tell myself that I’m NOT working out for immediate results. (Good, Marcus, because you’re not getting them.) In other words, I’m not working out for today, I’m working out for some future day. Specifically, I’m working out for March 20, 2019, the Spring Equinox, and THAT means that starting tomorrow I have 179 days (91 days for fall and 88 days for winter) to get myself in shape. What that looks like, I can’t exactly say, but I can say the MOST important thing for me right now is to establish a routine, to set aside time every day (or almost every day) of the week to take care of my physical body by exercising, stretching, and so on.

Currently I’m at a coffee shop. There’s a sign behind the counter that says, “Excellence is not an act; it’s a habit.” What this has to do with caffeine, I don’t know, but for me it’s the perfect reminder. You don’t transform your body or soul in the blink of an eye. No, to get from one season in your life to the next requires a process, and processes happen one day at a time. In alchemy there’s an expression that says, “Pray, read, read, read again, toil, and discover.” To me this communicates the same idea. You don’t go instantly from asking for something (praying) to receiving it (discovering). There are steps you have to take. There’s work you have to do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Stop buying your own bullshit.

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