My First Rodeo (Blog #792)

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Oh my gosh. Tonight I went to the rodeo. Like horses and bulls and cowboys (in Wranglers)–the rodeo. This afternoon my friend Kim invited me. She–apparently–goes every night, every year, and had an extra ticket. And whereas at first I said no (I had plans to work and was also stressed out with car maintenance issues), I changed my mind. My dad encouraged me. He said, “Marcus, you haven’t been to the rodeo since you were a child. Live a little.” So that’s what I did. Or rather, that’s what we did–me, Kim, and her daughter Laura–slapped on our cowboy hats and had a big ole time.

Giddyup.

Don’t squat with your spurs on.

So, I don’t know if you’ve been to the rodeo, but it really is the wildest thing. Our group sat on the front row, and several times had dirt kicked in our faces by the animals. Kim said one year a bull’s leg came through the guardrail and hit her son’s knee. Talk about live drama. As if the cowboys who ride the bucking horses and bulls weren’t enough. I kept watching those guys tonight, their spinal columns whipped about like those blow-up Crayon characters in front of car dealerships. Seriously, they looked like rubber, but you know that’s got to hurt. One cowboy tonight got bucked off and landed on his knees in the splits and limped off like I did when I tore my ACL. Laura said, “I bet her broke his leg.”

I said, “This shit is real.”

On a lighter note, one of the categories tonight was called Mutton Busting, which basically involved toddlers (4 to 8 year olds) holding onto the backs of sheep for their dear lives. Oh my gosh, talk about adorable–the kids wear protective vests and helmets and clamp down with all fours while the sheep run, run, run. I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life.

When the rodeo was over, Kim and Laura visited with some friends of Kim’s, and I ate a caramel-covered apple with nuts. This is “a thing” of mine whenever I’m at the fair–and, now–the rodeo. Talk about delicious.

Next we went to an afterparty “just to check things out.” Y’all, we ended up closing the place down. First we visited (the bar and with each other), then Laura and I hit the dance floor. Talk about exciting–I love two-step, and this was my first chance to two-step since my knee injury. And whereas Laura hasn’t danced a ton before, she caught on super-duper quick, so we had a blast. A blast, I say.

At one point during the night, we joked that this really was “my first rodeo,” since I don’t remember going as a child. At least I don’t remember watching the events and understanding what was happening. And whereas parts of it really were terrifying (horses and bulls are powerful animals), that was part of the fun, part of the thrill. I commented that the bull fighting (there was bull fighting!) was our modern-day equivalent of gladiators and the colosseum. You know, where people would die. I don’t know, there’s just nothing like live (and dangerous) entertainment, seeing a cowboy fly through the air, smelling the animals, feeling the dirt land against your skin.

Recently the Arkansas River flooded in Fort Smith and Van Buren, like higher than it ever has before. My immediate friends and family are okay, but it’s gross. Buildings and homes and under water. Some of my former students are affected, not just by the water, but by looters. I can’t imagine. All this being said, it’s phenomenal to see the river up so high. This afternoon I was driving over one of the bridges, and I couldn’t believe it. There was water everywhere, covering the tree tops, just below a local retaining wall. Anyway, I was suddenly struck with the peace of it all. What I mean is that in the midst of this big, powerful river, I connected with that sense of quiet that’s always there if we’d just slow down enough to realize it. I thought, Nature is herself. She doesn’t ask for praise on a sunny day or apologize when she turns a town upside down. She simply continues to move.

It was beautiful.

Personally, I think this beauty that is life is always there for us. It’s just we get so busy that we don’t see it, feel it. We get so wrapped up in what we think is wrong that we don’t see what’s right. We go about our days assuming we’ve been there and done that. We say, “This ain’t my first rodeo.” Consequently, we get cynical. We lose our capacity to wonder, to be amazed. It takes something grand or violent–a raging bull or river–to get our attention, to wake us up the present moment. And yet each new moment offers something beautiful and amazing. You and I have seen yesterday’s sun and today’s sun, but not tomorrow’s. No, tomorrow’s sun has never risen, never set. Indeed, tomorrow itself is a whole new rodeo, which we can attend with fresh, full-of-wonder eyes if we are wiling.

Giddyup.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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On Branches-Down Thinking (Blog #791)

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This afternoon a friend and I were discussing things to do in Fort Smith, and she said that when people tell her “Fort Smith really needs this” or “Fort Smith really needs that,” she says, “Why don’t YOU do it?” Then she continued, “Most people find an excuse not to, but some people actually get involved. But really–what are you waiting on–Providence to sweep down and scoop you off your couch?” Amen. This is how I feel about a lot of things–dancing, exercise, writing, and mental health, for example. You’ve gotta get off your couch if you want to see improvement in these areas. (Well, maybe not writing and mental health. I’m on a couch right now.) A week ago I agreed to be part of an upcoming murder mystery fundraiser simply because if I want my social life to improve (and I do), I’ve got to get out of the house (sorry, Mom and Dad).

As Liza Minnelli says, you gotta ring them bells.

Recently my therapist and I were talking about complaining. You know, bitching, grousing, whining, or whinging. Similar to my friend I just mentioned, I said that I knew several people who frequently complained about this or that but that–from my perspective–refused to do anything about this or that. “I used to the same way,” I said, “but it’s just so clear to me now–they don’t have to put up with other people’s bullshit. Suffering is optional.” Well, my therapist said two things. First, that she LOVED to complain, that it was one of her favorite pastimes. And whereas this hasn’t been my observation of her, that’s probably because she’s so fucking funny whenever she does it. Like, she’d be a fabulous standup comedian, which, now that I think about it, is really a person who gets PAID to complain. So I guess it’s really not the content when someone complains, but the delivery. (Work on your delivery, people!) Anyway, second, my therapist said, “Some people really get off on being martyrs.”

Think about that.

A few weeks ago I got an unsolicited email from an online hemp (CBD oil, etc.) company asking me to promote their products on my blog. In return, they offered to promote me on their Twitter account, which–I just looked–has 452 followers. Along with their (generous) offer, they included a link to one of their blogs about mental health. I guess this is why they thought we’d be a good “fit” for each other. The Mental Health Connection. Earlier tonight I read the blog, entitled “Ten Mental Health Habits to Try in 2019.” Great, I thought, I might learn something. Well–get out your pen and paper–here they are: exercise, gratefulness, be kind, sleep, hang out with friends, chocolate (made with CBD oil), laugh, eat well, love yourself, meditate.

Okay. I have a lot of thoughts. On the positive side, I think all of these are fabulous things to do, especially the chocolate one. Personally, I know that I always feel better after I exercise, express gratitude, be kind, sleep, hang out with friends, laugh, eat well, love myself (talk kindly to yourself was their suggestion), or meditate. Super. That being said, having spent the last five years deliberately working on my mental health, I also see all ten of these suggestions as very surface recommendations. My therapist would call them “soccer mom” recommendations. No offense to soccer moms, but just to say they (the suggestions, not the moms) don’t go very deep.

They don’t really cut the mustard.

Other than “sleep” or “take a nap,” my therapist has never–not once in five years–suggested I do any of the things on the above list. Well, maybe meditate. But this isn’t because they’re bad things to do. They aren’t. Do them. Knock yourself out. But in terms of doing them in order to improve your mental health, that’s like putting a Bandaid on a broken arm. Sure, it might make you feel better, but it doesn’t really get to the root of the problem. For years–nearly a decade–I worked with exercise, gratitude journals, “being nice,” saying positive, self-loving affirmations, and meditating. The entire time I hoped that I’d be able to “spiritualize” myself in such a way as to never have to confront my problems directly–to have the hard conversations, to set boundaries, to speak my truth. Said another way, I hoped I’d never have to admit–My arm is broken, I’m hurting, and I could use a little help here.

I’ve said before that what took me to therapy was a bad relationship. Before I started therapy, I tried everything I knew–every suggestion my self-help books offered to make it better. I tried being kind and being understanding, the whole time thinking that if only I had enough inner peace, he could be a total asshat (and boy could he ever) and it wouldn’t matter. But it did–it did matter. Maybe a saint could find peace in a prison, but 1) I’m not a saint and 2) the saint would be a fool to not walk out of the prison if he suddenly learned the door was open and no one was standing in his way.

What I learned in therapy was that that relationship was simply a SYMPTOM, a natural result of past traumas, my upbringing, and my beliefs–about myself and what I was worthy of, others and how they should treat me, and the world around me. In other words, I was sick. Now, I don’t mean diagnosable. I have family members who are clinically mentally ill, and I wasn’t that. But just like my family members “laugh” when people tell them “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” or “try getting more sun,” I laugh now at the thought that hanging out with more friends or eating chocolate with CBD oil could have even come close to fixing my sickness.

Really, situation is a better word than sickness, since I don’t mean sick as in diagnosable or gross, but sick as in “something isn’t working here.” Something isn’t as healthy here as it could be/should be. As I see it now, we all have situations or things that aren’t working–a relationship, a job, a feeling or behavior that won’t leave us alone. What I’m saying is that no problem happens in isolation and that, chances are, the roots of our problems run deep. If you’d rather complain that do something about your problems–and if you’re not going to be a standup comedian–ask yourself why. Because complaining or playing the martyr is a very disempowering thing to do, whereas facing your problems directly is very empowering. Sure, you can get a lot of sympathy and you can feel sorry for yourself by staying helpless, but staying helpless never produces longterm positive results or, for that matter, self-esteem.

Why not empower yourself and walk out of your prison?

Going back to the list of ten things to try for mental health, I see them as a bit like trying to grow a tree from the branches down. We see all these lists on the internet–be kind, be grateful, laugh, treat yourself well. But these aren’t things you can simply force yourself to do, at least for very long. Rather, they are the fruits of healthy roots. (I rhymed!) So work on your roots. Go to the heart of your problems and deal with them directly, then you will naturally be grateful, kind, and all those other things. Then you’ll naturally treat yourself lovingly because you will have cleared away enough junk to connect with the love that organically resides in your heart. Affirmations push truth into us. The Hard Work cracks us open and lets truth flow out. We see other people who have walked The Path and think that if we ACT like them, we will EXPERIENCE their peace. But again, this is branches-down thinking. Trees grow from the roots up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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Unadulterated (Blog #790)

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What to say, what to say? I’ve spent the day, most of it, with my face buried in my laptop, either reading books or looking at books on online stores or libraries. If I could do this every day, I’d be a happy camper. That being said, I’m sure my eyes would fall out, if my brain didn’t fall out first. At one point this evening I HAD to stop reading a fascinating book about Chartres Cathedral–did you know that the Notre Dame (Our Lady) cathedrals in France are laid out in relation to each other in the shape of the constellation Virgo?–because I was absolutely famished. Later I stopped to exercise. A body has to eat. A body has to move.

One of the books I read this afternoon was by Guy Kettelhack and was about–quite frankly–gay men and sex. And whereas I don’t intend to go into details (you’re welcome), the author had a lot to say about how we, as people in general, suppress or try to ignore various aspects of ourselves. Our sexuality, for instance. Because we think certain parts of ourselves are good and holy, and other parts of ourselves are wicked and vile. At the very least something we shouldn’t talk about on the internet. But Kettelhack says, “Every part of you is true.” The idea behind this statement, I think, is that even those desires, fantasies, and emotions we deem socially unacceptable, first of all, exist whether we want them to or not. Second, they exist because they have something to offer us. Third, and along the lines of yesterday’s blog, we’d do better to interact with all of our parts consciously rather than unconsciously.

Another thing Kettelhack says is that permission is letting yourself be who you already are. In terms of sexuality, I know that I’ve spent a lot of time (historically) trying to convince myself I wasn’t something I am–gay. But in other terms, I’ve also spent a lot of time trying to convince myself I wasn’t a number of other things–upset, angry, unhappy, even happy. This has caused me to distrust my own body and emotions and instead try to substitute who I am for what I’ve thought I should be–as told to me by the church, a self-help book, or even so-called friends. This is one of the worst things, I think, that a person could do–discount their own inherent wisdom, the truth of their experience because someone else says something different.

And yet it happens every day.

This isn’t to say that if you have a sexual urge or unpleasant emotion (like anger) that you should take it out on the world around you. But it is to say that you’ll get further by acknowledging how you really feel than by depressing your authentic desires and internal reactions. Recently I was considering confronting someone, and my therapist said, “Do you want to but feel like you ‘shouldn’t’?” And whereas that wasn’t the case, it reminded me of countless other situations in which I felt like I “shouldn’t” speak my truth or do what I really wanted to because it wasn’t socially appropriate, I imagined I’d hurt somebody’s feelings, or I was afraid someone wouldn’t like me.

It’s not your job to make anyone else happy.

The problem with this way of living, of course, is that it puts someone else’s imagined experience above your actual experience. Or even their actual experience above your actual experience. Either way, you’re the one who ends up suffering. I’ve known people–usually gay people–who have married someone just to make that person, their parents, or god happy. But here’s a slap in the face–it’s not your job to make another human being, your parents, or even god happy. (If god hasn’t figured out how to be happy after all this time, that’s his problem.) Indeed, you CAN’T make anyone else happy. Sure, maybe you can do something nice and evoke a smile, but when has anybody else been able to make YOU happy? Like, permanently, deep down? It just doesn’t work that way.

As the saying goes, happiness is an inside job.

Your inside job.

My therapist says that when you’re honest, first with yourself and then with others, you give both you and others a gift–the gift of you authentic response. By being honest (and the honest truth is different than your honest opinion), you give others permission to do the same. Because we all teach by example. Like, if I live a closeted life or pretend to be someone I’m not, I teach others that “this is the way.” But if I live an authentic life, one in which I speak my truth and honor my body and emotions, I naturally imply that it’s good and safe and right for others to do the same. I suggest, and I’m saying it clearly now, You don’t have to hide anything about yourself in order to be accepted or loved.

From my perspective, the world is lacking in honesty and authenticity. Granted, the words gets a lot of lip service these days. But if they were truly “a thing,” the world would be a different place. That is, if you think you have truth in your life and yet your life looks the same as it did ten, twenty, or thirty years ago, I’m gonna suggest maybe you don’t. Because truth is married to change. It comes into your life like a wrecking ball–it has to–in order to remove all that is false within you–your false perceptions, your false beliefs, your false relationships. This is why I pay my therapist so much money. My friends tell me, “Maybe it’ll work out. Give him a chance.” My therapist tells me, “He’s a fucking asshole. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but he is.” But I do want to hear it, even if it destroys my fantasies–because I’ve lived under illusions for decades and know they don’t lead anywhere but Pain and Suffering.

No, give me something honest. Give me something real. Turn my life upside down if you have to, but give me something true.

Back to the constellation Virgo being associated with gothic cathedrals. There’s a lot of theories as to why. For example, Virgo is associated with the spring (she’s technically a late summer zodiac sign, but she first appears in the sky in the spring), with new life (the new life you’ll have if you let truth wreck your old one). Also, Virgo is The Virgin. Again, the virgin birth is often used to symbolize the birth of one’s spiritual (rather than physical) life. And whereas virgins are immediately thought of as sexually pure, symbolically they remind me to be internally pure. Not pure as in text-book perfect, but pure as is wrecking-ball honest. Pure as in “I can handle the truth,” even if isn’t pretty or socially acceptable, which (here’s something that sucks) it rarely is. Pure as in unadulterated–integrated in all your parts; whole in your body, heart, and mind; complete .

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Ignorance Is Not Bliss (Blog #789)

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Today was therapy and therapy day. First I saw my regular therapist, then I saw my physical therapist. Now I’m so healthy I can’t stand myself. One of the techs at physical therapy noted that I was “still coming.” My physical therapist said, “He’s addicted to the pain.” I said, “I’m addicted to the progress.” This is what I’d say about regular therapy too–by simply showing up and doing the work, I realize consistent positive results.

Why wouldn’t I keep going?

Two weeks ago at physical therapy I hopped on one leg for the first time. And whereas it wasn’t pretty, it was something. Today that exercise was easier. Still not pretty, but easier. Then I jumped off a step with two legs and landed on one leg (my left, the one I had surgery on). “Like hopscotch,” my physical therapist said.

“Uh–it’s been few years,” I said.

“You know you’re in a hopscotch league,” another physical therapist chimed in.

“Yes, and I also do double-dutch jump rope on Saturdays,” I answered.

Landing on one leg was rough–shaky–but thankfully there was a rail to grab so I wouldn’t fall over. Shaky–that’s a good way to explain my experience with knee rehab. Sometimes my entire body quakes and quivers when I’m trying to lower myself down into a chair using only my left leg. Even still, I see progress. Today while lowering myself into a chair, I had more control than I’ve ever had since my injury (I tore my ACL six months ago). Also, with each new exercise, like the one-leg hopscotch landing, both my mind and body become less afraid. It’s like, Okay, we can do this.

At regular therapy, my therapist and I discussed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I read an article about OCD recently that said sometimes it takes the form of “information hoarding.” Well, you know how you can Google a health problem and all of a sudden convince yourself you have a deadly disease? Since I download, buy, and borrow books faster than I can read them, I thought, I have that. I’m an information hoarder. My therapist said, “I don’t think you’re as extra as you think you are. You’re not hurting anyone, and you’re not cancelling social engagements or missing work to stay home and download books, play video games, or wash your hands. When you get to the point that your books are piled up so high that you can’t walk in your house, then come back and talk to me about having OCD.” Then she added, “Personally, I think more people could buy a few books.”

Right?

Along the lines of people being uneducated, my therapist said, “People say that ignorance is bliss, but that’s a really ignorant statement.” Then she explained that when people lead unexamined lives, sure, there’s a certain “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” happiness in that. “But the price of self-ignorance is strife, drama, passive aggressiveness, anger, anxiety, and internal tension,” she said.

Among other things.

In terms of self-ignorance, I don’t know many people–myself included–who would gladly admit, Gosh, I don’t know much about myself. For an answer as to why, I harken back to a recent question I asked (and have often asked along The Path)–How can you know what you don’t know? Simply put, you can’t. I’ve mentioned before that I took reiki and meditation classes for years from an excellent teacher who talked about boundaries consistently. And whereas I remember hearing what she said, it didn’t sink in. It never occurred to me that my boundaries were off, even though–I can see now–they were. Likewise, despite a number of less-than-ideal relationships (both platonic and intimate), I never realized I was repeating PATTERNS, going through the same drama over and over, just with different characters. Despite my constantly reading self-help books, it took my working with a therapist (a trained professional) for me to see these things.

In my experience, you’re probably not going to wake one morning and–bam!–suddenly identify the unproductive patterns in your life and WHY they are there in the first place. Sure, you may intellectualize that your mother did this or your father did that, but chances are you won’t be able to draw a line from your childhood relationships and situations to your current relationships and situations. Not because you’re stupid, but because they don’t call it the UNCONSCIOUS for no reason. So how do you know what you don’t know? How do you bring the UNCONSCIOUS up? Simply put, you look for signs then work backwards.

I’ll explain.

Things that are unhealthy leave their mark.

Recently my car, Tom Collins, has been making a squeaking noise. Since we’ve been through this before, I know the squeaking means I need at least one new brake pad. (I should probably do something about that.) My point is that when something is wrong, there’s usually evidence of it. When you’re sick, you’ll either feel tired, get a runny nose, start bleeding out of your ears, or whatever. Like a slug that leaves a trail of slime behind it, Things That Are Unhealthy leave their mark. This same principle applies to one’s mental, emotional, and relational health. That is, if there’s something that needs your attention, your subconscious will create flare signals. It will SEND UP stress, anxiety, nervousness, conflict, and any number of other uncomfortable feelings in an effort to get you to check yourself out (rather than be checked out–or self-ignorant).

I started therapy because I was in a terrible (horrible, no-good, very bad) relationship. Looking back, that relationship was a distress signal. And whereas I could have blamed the other person (and did) or simply told myself that all my uncomfortable feelings were “normal,” I was so miserable that I had to do something about it. I had to do something about MYSELF. Because that’s the deal–if you’re arguing with the people in your life or things aren’t working at work, the answer starts with you. Only YOU can do something about YOUR problems. At the very least, I think, you have to ask yourself, Why am I willing to entertain this bullshit? In my case, I thought, What is wrong with me that I’m ATTRACTED to someone who lies and cheats (and lies and cheats some more)?

From there, I worked backwards. With my therapist, I identified A HISTORY OF PATTERNS. Slowly, we worked at breaking those patterns, at setting boundaries first with myself then with others. And I do mean slowly. Just like learning to hopscotch again doesn’t happen overnight, you don’t become self-enlightened overnight. I’m not sure it can even be done in one lifetime. Caroline Myss says, “Consciousness is expensive.” This means that becoming self-aware and self-possessed is hard work, The Hard Work. This is why people say ignorance is bliss–because they don’t want to put in the effort. They want to believe that they can “go along to get along” or simply “accept Jesus as their personal lord and savior” and not have to work out their salvation with fear and trembling. This truly is ignorance. You don’t learn to double-dutch jump rope without putting the time in.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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How to Get Your Mind in the Mood (Blog #788)

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Phew. After having breakfast with a friend this morning, I spent the entire day, about eight hours, wrapping up at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house. For the last three days I’ve been cleaning antique hardware–removing paint (with chemicals and elbow grease), then either polishing or repainting what’s underneath. I’ve been to Lowe’s four times, Walmart twice, and Walgreen’s once. I’ve been up and down more steps than I can count, working feverishly because the painters are coming back tomorrow to rehang doors and need the hardware to do it. Thankfully, I think, everything is ready.

Here’s a picture of some of the polished brass. I’ll spare you photos of the rest, but in terms of volume, each door  (on average) has 2 large plates, 1 small plate, 2 knobs, 2 hinges, and one lock (small plates and hinges are shown in yesterday’s blog)–and there were seventeen doors (I think).

Here’s a video of in inner workings of one of the locks. I took it apart because the bolt was sticking out, tilted like a drunken sailor. I had to open up another lock to figure out how to fix it. As it turns out, a small piece of metal had popped out that was supposed to hold the bolt in place (I hammered it back in). I don’t narrate the video, but notice that a small, bent wire pushes the latch out. The bolt itself works via two levers–one that pushes the bolt in or out (and moves horizontally), and another that “locks” it in the lock position (and moves vertically). The small piece of broken metal I hold up at the end of the video is what I found when I took the lock apart. It’s the broken-off end of a skeleton key, which would have been used to 1) lift the vertical-moving lever and then 2) slide the horizontal-moving lever, thus locking or unlocking the door.

 

After a full day of manual labor, about nine, I sat down on Todd and Bonnie’s porch with a cup of coffee and intentions of resting. My thought was that I’d drink my Joe, take a shower, then hang around to blog. However, while scrolling on my phone I learned that two of the three bridges from Fort Smith to Van Buren were going to be closed at ten due to the recent flooding of the Arkansas River. (We’ve either already have or are about to break a record for this area. It’s not pretty.) So rather than be stranded in Fort Smith, I threw all my stuff in Tom Collins (my car), and booked it across the bridge.

When I got home (safe and sound) I was apparently still in “get shit done” mode. (It’s hard to turn it off once it’s on.) First I changed a florescent lightbulb in the laundry room (Dad’s been asking me to for weeks), then I repaired a shelf that fell down in my bathroom WELL OVER a year ago. The wall anchors had come loose and left big holes in the wall. And whereas I’d been thinking I’d have to patch the wall (and that wouldn’t work because I don’t think we have that paint anymore), I came up with another solution during one of my many trips to Lowe’s. (It’s tough to explain, and I didn’t take a picture of it.) Anyway, the shelf is up now. It didn’t hang flat against the wall initially (the top was farther out that the bottom), so I shoved a thin bar of cheap motel soap between the wall and the bottom of the shelf to fix it.

Glad to know that soap’s good for something.

After I hung the shelf, I felt compelled to decorate it. See the above photo. The tin next to the dinosaur–ironically–says Fossil. Anyway, because I used a lot of stuff from the shelf on the opposite wall to decorate the just-fixed shelf, I then felt compelled to decorate that one. Since I’m picky as shit, this took a while. Nonetheless, I settled on displaying a few of my favorite handwritten cards along with a small collection of tins I have. I use them to store jewelry, pins, and USB drives. Fun fact–the duck in the ABOVE photo is a USB drive. It’s from The Peabody Hotel in Memphis.

Don’t see a duck? Time to see your eye doctor.

Since I stole the cards in the above photo from a shelf in my bedroom, I then “had” to redecorate the shelf. (I’m sick, I know.) Thankfully, this was easy, since a fellow writing friend of mine recently sent me a couple post cards (thanks, friend!). I just needed to find a way to stand them up, since they don’t stand up on their own. Finally I thought of it–binder clips, turned upside down. The perfect thing!

Now I’m ready for a break. For real this time. I’ve already showered, and all my projects, except this blog, are completed for the day. If there’s a lesson for today, it’s that once you get going on something, it’s easy to keep going. This applies to cleaning antique hardware, decorating your home, writing, and even paying your bills. It also applies to creativity. That is, while working at Todd and Bonnie’s this week, I had to get into “creative problem solving” mode. How can I clean this brass? How can I fix this lock? Well, ask your mind to do something, and it will. What’s more, it will often go above and beyond simply because it’s in the mood. And we can fix this, and we can fix this. What’s the skeleton key for unlocking your mind’s creativity or getting it into problem solving mode? How do you get your mind in the mood? Curiosity. Wonder. I wonder if there’s a way to–I wonder what would happen if. In other words, you have to gently ask, and then your mind will go to work.

Ask (nicely) and it is given.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Of all the broken things in your life, you’re not one of them–and you never have been.

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A World Where You Belong (Blog #787)

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For the last two days I’ve been cleaning antique hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. This is turning out to be a chore. (I’m scrubbing my brass off.) Not because the work is difficult, but because there’s a lot involved, like running back and forth to the hardware store for supplies. Today I discovered that all the door hinges are not, in fact, solid brass. Rather, they’re brass plated. Or were, since my cleaning them really did scrub their brass off. Now they’re just ugly metal hinges. But never fear, we decided to spray paint them (satin brass). Some of them are drying now. Others are still in a crock pot being heated up–so I can remove the old (white) paint on them then put the new paint on.

A project like this is clearly a damn process. Take the hardware off. Put it in a crock pot. Scrub the paint off. Then either shine it or spray paint it. Put the hardware back on. This evening I bought three different types of screws for putting the hardware back, then got back to the house and realized two of them were the wrong size. Screws too short–story of my life. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) Anyway, tomorrow I’ll go back to the hardware store and try again. That’s the deal when things are a process–you just keep taking one step at a time until everything is done.

Or until you are.

While working today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said projection is a function of perception. That is, first you perceive or understand something, then you project that perception out into the world. For example, I first understood (mentally) that I needed to spray paint the hinges, then I talked to Todd and Bonnie, then I bought the paint, then I sprayed the hinges. Perception preceded projection. Over the last several years I’ve perceived a number of things in therapy–like, that I needed to set a boundary or have a conversation with someone–then proceeded to project those cognitions into my life and relationships, even on to this blog.

In a lot of New Age and even spiritual material, the world is referred to as a mirror. This isn’t to say that if you witness something horrific on the ten o’clock news that you’re horrific, but it is to say that the way you respond (mentally, emotionally, physically) has a lot to do with you and very little to do with any specific horrific thing you may see. When Donald Trump was elected, I wasn’t thrilled but I wasn’t emotional. Conversely, I had friends who cried. As the fact of the matter was the same for everyone (Donald Trump was elected), and yet there were so many varied responses, I can only logically conclude that those varied responses were due to each individual’s PERCEPTION of what had taken place and what they thought that meant or didn’t mean. My point is that we’re never just responding to what’s “out there,” but rather what’s “in here.”

Another way of saying this is that you don’t see the world as IT IS, but rather AS YOU ARE. Again, if you think the world is a terrible place, that doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person. Scared, frightened, or angry, maybe. My therapist says that if you have unresolved trauma and don’t deal with it consciously, you’ll deal with it unconsciously. “You’ll externalize it,” she said. “You’ll get involved in a bad relationship, become paranoid, or develop a neurosis.” Um, guilty–I’ve done all of the above. When I was a teenager and my dad was in prison, I became a HUGE conspiracy theorist. I despised the government. Looking back, I can see that I was simply overwhelmed and terrified, fearful that what happened to my dad would one day happen to me. But since I either didn’t know how or was unable to experience and give voice to my emotions (my perceptions), they got pushed out on to “the bad guys.” In other words, I wasn’t a scary place, the world was.

Now I think the reverse was true. (I was a scary place. The world was –the world.) Not that ugly things don’t happen in the world (and we all know the government killed JFK), but I know that how I respond to those things absolutely belongs to me. I own my emotions. If I see something horrific and get sad or angry, it’s not because that horrific thing put those emotions into me. No, they were already there. Wayne Dyer used to say that when you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out, and–likewise–when you’re squeezed, what’s inside YOU comes out.

What goes down must come up.

Hoeller says that we project our perceptions (my therapist’s word for projection is externalize) in order that we can interact with them. That is, for decades I believed and felt that the world was an unsafe place to live. This, I’m sure, had to do with our house burning down when I was a child, and then, later, Dad’s going to prison. Or maybe it was my being in a car accident. Pick a trauma. The point is that my mind, body, and emotions had definite reactions to those events, but I did everything I could to shove those reactions down and shut them off. This is impossible to do, of course, at least for very long. What goes down must come up. Again, this can happen consciously or unconsciously, but either way–you must interact with what’s inside you.

Like cleaning antique hardware, this is a damn process.

Having walked this trying-to-be-conscious road for a while a now, I’m just gonna say it’s not fun and it’s not easy. That being said, I’d highly suggest dealing with what’s inside you consciously rather than projecting or externalizing it, since that’s even worse. After all, when you’re problem is projected (over there), what can you do about it–other than become a social justice warrior? But if your problem is inside you, now we’re talking. And yet, this is why the work is hard. Looking at what’s inside you requires owning every action and reaction you’ve ever had. It means sitting with thoughts like, I was terrified. I am terrified. I’m oh-so-very scared. But once you do, I promise, the world that used to appear unsafe and frightening will change. It has to–because you did. Because your perceptions, and thus your projections, did. This is The Good News, that if you can perceive and project an unsafe world, you can perceive and project a safe one, a world where you belong.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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Like Door Knobs, We Exist (Blog #786)

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Currently I’m at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house, where I’ve been all day, cleaning antique hardware. I started this project earlier this week, and whereas it’s not difficult work, it is tedious and time-consuming. First, if the hardware has paint on it, I let it soak in a crock pot. This makes the paint slide right off. Then I scrub, scrub, scrub the paint-free (usually) bronze metal with either Brasso, a mixture of baking soda and lemon juice, or both. At least that’s what I’ve been doing.

I’ll explain.

This afternoon after working for several hours I was ready to call it a day. But then I got obsessed with the fact that the pieces of hardware that had been through the crock-pot process had a distinct pink/copper tone to them and the other pieces didn’t. Rather, they looked like–um–brass. Well, I made the mistake of Googling why. As it turns out, brass is composed of copper and zinc, and heating it up (like in a crock pot) removes the zinc. This is why several pieces looked like copper–they were. Thankfully, this can be fixed. Soaking the copper-toned pieces in a solution of equal parts white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide removes the copper, and then–voila!–you’re back to brass (or steel if that’s what’s underneath).

Here’s a picture of The Solution. It starts off clear, then turns blue, then, sometimes, scummy.

After going to the store to get white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide, I went through the above process, and it worked like a charm. However, it also left my perviously shiny pieces of hardware smudged and dirty. Albeit dirty brass, not dirty copper. And whereas Brasso and baking soda and lemon juice didn’t do the trick, another internet remedy did–white vinegar, salt, and flour. Oh my gosh, y’all, that stuff is magic. It took almost all the dirt and grime off in an instant–no elbow grease required. I was so impressed that I not only used it to clean the used-to-look-like-copper pieces, but also touched up all the others.

Take a look. Notice the door knob in the bottom lefthand corner. That one was technically already clean (it was previously ALL dark), but not new-magic-potion clean like the others in the photo. What a difference!

Part of me feels like I wasted a lot of time earlier this week and this afternoon because I didn’t know about the copper-removing process or the magic brass-cleaning paste. But how can you know what you don’t know? Thankfully, I know now, and that means the rest of the hardware will get cleaned quicker and easier. As I watched The Solution and The Paste dissolve the copper and the dirt and grime before my very eyes, I thought, Better living through chemistry.

Work smarter, not harder.

The Gospel of Thomas says that Jesus said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.” To me this parable means that when you find a better way, you forsake all your previous ways that either weren’t working as well or weren’t working at all. Like, why would I go back to baking soda and lemon juice when The Paste is clearly superior?

In terms of personal growth, I’ve discovered a lot of Big Fish along The Path. For example, setting boundaries, being authentic, and speaking my truth (which, incidentally, is different than speaking my opinion). These things have taken the place (not all the time, but most the time) of the small fish of which I used to be so acquainted–being enmeshed with others, being a people pleaser, and being sarcastic or passive aggressive (or simply silent). Not that these small-fish strategies didn’t work on some level, but I’ve simply found a better way to live in the world and interact with others. It’s called being honest, direct, and kind.

While working with these pieces of antique hardware, it’s occurred to me that I’m not trying to create something beautiful from scratch. Rather, by removing layer after layer of paint, zinc, copper, dirt, and grime, I’m simply revealing something beautiful. Something that was there all along but got covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a door knob. This is a metaphor, of course, for the idea that all of us are radiant on the inside but that our radiance gets covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a person. Thankfully, with a lot of work, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of grace, we can get to what’s underneath.

When Queer Eye for the Straight Guy originally came out (see what I did there?), Kyan Douglas said that men need to pluck their nose hairs. Then he motioned to his gloriously kempt face and said, “Do you think this just happens?” With respect to cleaning door knobs or uncovering one’s inner radiance, I’d ask the same question. Do you think this just happens? The obvious answer is no. Even in Jesus’s parable about the man who caught the big fish, the big fish didn’t jump into his boat on its own accord. No, the man had to go fishing. He had to cast his net. He had to pull it in. Then he had to have enough sense to keep the big fish and–perhaps just as important–throw the little fish back, an act analogous to pruning the vine or separating the tares from the wheat. When Aladdin entered the Cave of Wonders, the rules were that he could only touch The Lamp. He couldn’t touch any other jewel or coin.

All this to say–once you figure out what’s Most Important, you can’t let yourself be distracted by, weighed down, or otherwise concerned with piffle or That Which Doesn’t Matter. Recently someone I care a great deal for suggested I could smile more in my daily selfies. I am–they said–after all, beautiful, and some of my pictures don’t do me justice. At one time I would have taken this advice to heart, thinking, I’m doing something wrong. My face is disappointing someone. I should be doing better. I should be smiling more. But as I’ve said numerous times before, this blog and my life are not about outward appearances or presenting myself in a such a way as to make someone else happy or gain their love or approval (even for a moment). Granted, I used to worry about such small things, but have since thrown those fish back into the sea because I’ve found A Better Way. Indeed, once you clear away The Grime, you connect with a certain confidence that allows you not only to simply be who you are, but also to stop feeling like you have to prove yourself–to yourself, anyone else, or the world at large. Like door knobs, we exist. This is enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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On Books and Abundance (Blog #785)

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It’s 7:45 in the evening, I just got back from dinner, and sometime soon my friend Justin is coming over to hang out and catch up. Because our chats often go on for hours, I’m hoping to be done blogging by the time he gets here. I simply can’t imagine that my brain will feel like waking up and rising to the occasion at two in the morning. Not that I haven’t blogged late at night a hundred times before. God knows. Last night I started at midnight. And whereas I technically finished writing in an hour, I dragged the editing process out until three because I kept “tabbing over” to an online library I discovered. No kidding, they have millions of digitalized books that you can either download or borrow for free. I spent hours comparing my Amazon wish list to the site’s catalog and found over thirty-five books I’ve been wanting!

Lately I’ve been spending more time “collecting” books or searching for them online than I have actually reading them. Not that I haven’t been reading. It just takes so much time. Conversely, downloading a book, or flagging it on a library site, only takes a moment. Anyway, I’ve amassed quite the reading list. And whereas this used to overwhelm me, like, How will I ever read all these?, I’ve realized I don’t have to. There’s not a cosmic librarian or test administrator who’s going to quiz me on what’s in my head. Rather, all these books are here for my pleasure. And the fact that there are SO MANY BOOKS TO POTENTIALLY READ?

That’s just a sign of abundance.

Recently I heard that God is not a miser. That is, you can’t look at life, with it’s thousands of varieties of animals and plants on the earth and millions of stars in the sky and say that it’s cheap or anything but extravagant. This is my point about books. The world is full of information, knowledge, and stories. It always has been and always will be. This is why it’s becoming more and more ridiculous to me when I hear people say that things will never change or that THEIR problem can’t be solved. You’re telling me you live in a universe that can hang a moon in the sky but can’t fix your situation?

I know that my problem for the longest time has been that although I could see the abundance of the universe, I felt disconnected from it. Having been told by religion that I’m a worm and a sinner, a stranger in a strange land, I haven’t exactly felt like I belonged here or was otherwise worthy of experiencing and receiving life’s abundance. But that’s changing for me. Now I believe that, just like the trees and stars, I have a right to be here. Indeed, I am part of life and have a purpose in being here. And just like everyone else, I’m allowed to experience the very best (and worst) that life has to offer.

My therapist says that almost every client she has deals with “poverty mentality” in one way or another. Today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said although poverty mentality can feel good (because we get to feel sorry for ourselves), the truth is that we’re anything but poor. (I’m not talking about money.) Rather, we come into life vastly supported, set up to succeed. Our souls and psyches offer us endless resources. This morning I watched a video about human living fascia, what most people call CONNECTIVE tissue, but what one researcher says is actually CONSTRUCTIVE tissue. Oh my gosh, y’all, fascia is glorious, genius. No kidding, you’re made of a gossamer web of light. My point being that our physical bodies are marvelously made, abundant in their wisdom.

For me, this is where abundance begins–recognizing where I’m already rich beyond measure. Sure, it’d be easy to focus on money, or lack thereof. Everything is about money in the world. But I could have ten times–a hundred times!–the money I have now and still feel poor. Still wake up every day and be totally ignorant of the endless beauty around me, the endless resources in my mind, body, and soul, and the endless potential answers that exist to all my challenges and problems. To anyone’s. So more and more I’m grateful for hundreds of books and millions of stars, for they remind me not only of the abundance of that I am connected to, but also of which I am constructed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

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On Handyman Things and Attention (Blog #784)

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It’s just before midnight, and I’d like like to keep this short because I’m tired, covered in bug spray, and generally “done.” That being said, I often say I’d like to keep this short and end up going on and on nonetheless. This is, after all, what writers do–write. Recently I told my friend Marla that I frequently fantasize how conversations will go and imagine every possible outcome (and that sometimes this drives me crazy). She said, “Marcus! You’re a writer. We imagine.” I mean, I was thinking of my wild imagination was a bad thing, but it OBVIOUSLY comes in handy for the line of work I’m in. My point being that although my wordiness can keep me at the keyboard longer than I’d like, I’d rather have too much to say than not enough.

That would be dreadful. (For a writer. Maybe not so much for, I don’t know, a President on Twitter.)

The reason I’m worn out is because–believe it or not–I’ve been working, like manual labor, most the day. This afternoon I did handyman things for Mom and Dad. First, I installed grip bars in their bathroom to make their getting on and off the toilet (the terlet) easier. (Everyone’s gotta go.) I’d been saying I’d do this for months. And maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I think I knew it was because once I started, I wouldn’t stop. That is, today when I got in the handyman mood with the grip bars, I stayed in the mood. Next I installed a smoke detector. Then I fixed a spring on their dishwasher. “What else?” I kept saying.

This evening, for several hours, I cleaned antique door hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. (Outside, which is why I’m covered in bug spray.) A few days ago I put a pile of paint-covered brass hardware in a crockpot with some dish soap. This is a cool trick I learned online–the heat breaks the chemical bonds of the paint, and it just comes right off. Of course, I still had to scrub the hardware today, since the crockpot process leaves the hardware pretty rusty dirty. Again, the internet saved the day. It said I could scrub the hardware with baking soda and lemon juice, so that’s what I did. Worked like a charm.

I don’t have a before photo, so just imagine those decorative plates completely covered in white paint.

After several hours of cleaning and scrubbing (and refilling the crockpot with more hardware), I called it quits. Granted, I could have gone on. There was more to do, and as I said earlier, once I get in the mood, it’s easy for me to keep going. To keep push, push, pushing. But I’m really trying to do better at this. To not cram a week’s worth of work into one day, to not cram a semester’s worth of knowledge into my head in one month, to not cram two days worth of blogging into one night. You know, to stop, dammit. Anyway, that’s what I did tonight at Todd and Bonnie’s. I called it quits. Then Todd and I ate pizza, drank beer.

Now I’m house sitting at a friend’s house, a different friend/house than earlier this week. THIS friend has a hot tub. So whereas, yes, I have other things on my mind, other things I’d like to talk about, I realize that there will ALWAYS be more to talk about, always more to do. So even if I’m in the mood to do these things, so what? Being in the mood, I think, is simply a matter of being focused on something. That is, whatever you fully give your attention to automatically becomes interesting. So I know that I can turn my attention FROM writing TO hot-tub sitting and the world will keep turning. The writing–and everything else–will be there tomorrow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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A Long-Lost Friend (Blog #783)

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Yesterday I took a nap at the house where I was house sitting. (Today was my last day.) And whereas the nap was wonderful, I was up until almost four this morning. First I exercised. Then I read. My brain wouldn’t turn off. Eventually I passed out, but then I woke up to go to the bathroom (I’m over thirty), then to let the dog out. Finally, at nine, I stopped trying to go back to sleep. Instead, I made breakfast then read a book while I did laundry, then I started packing. This is one thing about house sitting I don’t like–moving all my things in, moving all my things out. Granted, I could just take one bag, but I’m gay.

Gay men have–so–many–bags.

While staying up last night I listened to a podcast about somatics. As I understand it, somatics is a mind/body approach to healing that encourages tuning into outer and inner physical sensations. Here’s another way of explaining it. Recently I asked a friend, “Where do you live in your body (your chest, your head)?” They said, “I try not to. Like, if I have a pain, I ignore it.” I get this. My go-to response with pain is to push passed it. To hyper focus on whatever task is at hand and hope the pain will go away. But because everything I’ve been reading and leaning about lately (like somatics) has encouraged drawing closer to and even welcoming your pain, I’m doing my best to change this habit.

In my experience, drawing closer to my pain doesn’t always make it go away, but it does make it less than it was before. I suppose one reason for this is because when I’m in pain, there’s the pain, then there’s the fear I have about it. For example, my shoulder has been hurting for months now, and when I get in certain positions, I automatically tense up in order to protect myself. Of course, this doesn’t help my tension headaches or encourage relaxation. But by drawing near and approaching my pain with curiosity, the fear I have dissipates. The tension lessons.

One somatics exercise the podcast recommended was to either sit or lie down and simply notice how your body feels. Is there more pressure on one side than the other? Then notice if you’re uncomfortable at all and if there’s any way you could adjust to feel even slightly better. This was the best thing for me to hear, since I often force my body into uncomfortable positions for the sake of better posture. However, according to the podcast, creating unnecessary tension or pain, for any reason, triggers the body’s sympathetic nervous system, which is associated with fight or flight mode. But if you can position yourself in such a way as to alleviate tension or pain, you can trigger the body’s parasympathetic nervous system. Consequently, so the theory goes, your body will relax on its own.

As last night was the first time I tried this technique, I can’t speak to it definitively. That being said, I have been playing around with it for the last twenty-four hours, and it works as well as anything else I’ve tried. For example, I normally carry a lot of tension in my right neck and my gaze is ever-turned in that direction. Because I obsess about it, I often force myself to look straight on. (This always feels like a fight.) But last night and today I’ve been letting my neck go where it wants to. And here’s the cool thing–not only does my neck feel better, I notice that my entire upper body relaxes and my breathing deepens. It’s like this chain reaction. Calm down one part of the body, and other parts follow.

This afternoon I got a haircut from my friend Bekah, who was babysitting her nine-month-old grandson. After the haircut was over, I thought I was about to leave, but Bekah got a phone call and–just like that–handed me her grandbaby. Y’all, he was the sweetest thing. Often children cry when I hold them, but not this boy. He just hung out. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how smart babies are. Not because they pee on themselves, but because of the way they move, sit up, crawl, and walk. No one has to teach them. They just know what to do. Said another way, their bodies just know what to do.

This is something I’ve really been working to get back to–the inherent wisdom of the body. For so long, because my body’s been sick or in pain, I’ve made it The Enemy. I assumed it hasn’t had The Answers. Consequently, I haven’t been fully present in my body. I haven’t been fully present FOR my body. And yet still it’s continued to work for me, to do its best. Now, as I do my best to approach it as one would a long-lost friend, I absolutely believe it has much to tell me. The Answers. As much as I believe a gay man has many bags, I believe the body has many secrets, secrets it’s willing to share if we will simply draw near to it rather than push it away. No, we don’t heal by pushing any part of ourselves away.

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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