On All the Pretty Things (Blog #986)

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Today I’ve been thinking about power. Specifically I’ve been thinking about the fact that no physical object has any power whatsoever except for the power we give it. For example, recently I attended a show and noticed two (I’m assuming) homosexuals who were wearing rhinestone brooches, one on his sweater, the other on his jacket. Well, as someone who loves a good button, I thought this was absolutely fabulous. Really taking things to the next level. Seriously, having spent my entire life only seeing females wear brooches, I was mesmerized, not only by these men’s courage, but also by their creativity. I thought, You go. Fuck gender rules.

Getting back to the idea of power, I’d like to be clear–these men and their brooches were only enchanting to me because either on a conscious or unconscious level I decided they were special, unique, and attractive. That is, anyone else–maybe you–wouldn’t have even noticed. Or if you did you might have thought, That’s stupid, That’s gay, or I would never. All the while we would have been staring at the same shiny pieces of jewelry, which, by the way, can’t DO anything other than sit there and sparkle. This is what I mean by objects having no inherent power or value. Even if a hundred people or the entire world agreed–THESE are beautiful brooches–they’re just material objects.

This morning I saw my therapist and casually mentioned “the brooch-wearing homos” (my therapist and I aren’t politically correct with each other), and she said, “I used to have a male client who wore a different brooch with every outfit, and it was stunning.” Encouraged, and despite the above-stated facts about things just being things, after therapy I went brooch shopping. (Things I’d never thought I’d say.) Well, I ended up at an antique store with hundreds and hundreds of vintage and newly handcrafted brooches. And whereas I’ll spare you my feelings of overwhelm (how you women–and drag queens–afford all your accessories, I’ll never know), I will say that I ended up buying three brooches, one of which (a fleur-de-lis) I proudly wore for the rest of the day.

Again, although I went “right to” this particular pin, there have obviously been dozens if not hundreds of shoppers who thought nothing of it. I’m sure others picked it up and thought, I wouldn’t pay $14 for that! And yet I thought it was perfect–a steal–because it matches the fleur-de-lis on my favorite vintage sweater and includes my favorite color, blue. But is it INNATELY beautiful and stunning?

Only because I think it is.

Only because I’ve given it power.

Having sold most of my worldly possessions at an estate sale, I’m highly aware that simply because I value something doesn’t mean anyone else does. Oh my god, I had antique chairs I paid over a hundred dollars for that sold for twenty. Fuck it, I eventually thought. It’s only stuff. It’s only money.

What I learned from my estate sale is that, although I occasionally miss some of what I sold, I didn’t and don’t NEED any of it. I look around my room now at what’s left and what I’ve acquired since, and I don’t need any of it either. Sure, it’s nice to have a comfortable bed, warm clothes, and plenty of books to read. I love my framed artwork, my magnet collection, and my three brooches. I think they’re pretty, fun. But do I require these object to be happy, to live a full life?

Let me be clear–I do not.

Now, don’t go getting the idea that I’m a monk who’s taken a vow of poverty. Picture that! A brooch-wearing monk. No, I clearly enjoy pretty things and shiny objects. Several weeks ago I lost one of my favorite rings, and tonight while I was rearranging my jewelry tray to accommodate my brooches spent over half an hour trying to remember where I lost it (to no avail). So even though I’m clear that my ring (which obviously isn’t mine anymore, if it ever was) only has meaning because I think it does, I still find it hard to let go. This is the thing with letting go. Sometimes you have to do it over and over again. As Madonna so rightly stated, we are living in a material world.

It’s easy to get attached.

This evening I returned an item of clothing that was too small to TJ Maxx and some lightbulbs that were too bright to Walmart. Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen these places. They were jam-packed with Christmas shoppers. And whereas–sure–I got caught up in both places looking at “all the pretty things,” I also realized the ridiculousness of it all. What I mean is that most of us THINK we need more stuff when we have SO MUCH already. We rush around, we push people over, and we buy, buy, buy. But standing there in the midst of it all, I thought, The stuff’s not making us buy it, we’re doing that. We’re breaking our backs to have things that will end up at consignment shops when we die. (Your mother’s antique brooch will end up on a forty-year-old gay man.) Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself that even though I was surrounded by a warehouse full of shiny objects, I didn’t NEED any of it–to feel love in my heart, to be kind to another, to feel good about myself.

Said succinctly, things can’t make you feel good about you. Only you have that power.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's really good news to find out that the world isn't as scary as you thought it was."

On How You Move Mountains (Blog #985)

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Last night my dad and I went to the gym. I started off doing my own thing in a back corner away from Dad but eventually ended up beside him, me on an elliptical and him on a recumbent stepper. And whereas I was really going to town, breathing hard and everything, he was like, moving at a snail’s pace. So when we both wrapped up, I said, “You’ve been on that machine for FIFTY minutes, and I’ve only been on mine for FIFTEEN. And yet you’re COMPLETELY dry and I’m DRENCHED in sweat.”

“That’s because I’m in so much better shape than you are,” he said.

Everyone’s a comedian.

This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, the upper cervical specialist who’s currently changing my life. Well, to be clear, my nervous system is changing my life. My doc is just helping my nervous system out by getting my “head on straight.” For years I’ve complained about headaches, shoulder pain, back pain, and posture problems. In only two weeks, all these things are dramatically better. This last week I didn’t have a single headache. My shoulders are less rounded. Today I told my doctor that after each treatment I experience different sensations in my body. The first time I cried. Today I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s how it goes,” he said. “It’s whatever the body wants to work on.”

What I appreciate about this form of treatment is that it views the body as innately intelligent. For at least a decade I’ve tried multiple ways to get the tight muscles in my shoulders and hips to loosen up with minimal results. Now I know those muscles were tight for a reason; my head was too far forward, and my body was trying to stay in balance. Well, now that my head is in a better position, those muscles that have been tight for years are beginning to loosen up. Just like that. Finally. Mountains are moving.

I wish I could say that this were a one-and-done miracle, but it’s more like a twenty-nine-and-done miracle, since twenty-nine visits over a year is what my doc suggested and what I agreed to. Considering my list of health problems has been growing the last few years and that my doc says his job is to take items OFF that list, the time and money I’m having to put into this are well worth it.

It’s always worth it to invest in your health.

With my 1,000th blog quickly approaching, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed for the better thanks to both nearly three years of blogging and nearly six years of therapy. Mostly I’ve been thinking about how although I’ve had a number of especially healing nights at this computer and especially healing days in therapy, I can’t put my finger on exactly WHEN I changed. You know how you look at yourself in the mirror every day. Sure, you notice a gray hair there, a little extra fat there. But until you whip out last year’s photo or try to squeeze into last season’s jeans, it doesn’t click that something’s different than it used to be. You think, When did it happen?

When did it not?

By this last question I mean that we’re always in the process of change. When it comes to going to the gym, seeing a therapist, or writing a daily blog, it’s not the individual visits or posts that change us, it’s the process itself. This afternoon I realized that I’ve recently checked out half a dozen books from an online library. Well, not only do I not have the time to read them, I also don’t have the desire. And yet my inner completionist says I should. My inner good student says there’s something to learn. But the truth is that no one fact or book is going to change me. It’s what I do with that fact or book, how I choose to integrate it into my life that makes the difference.

Along these lines, I have a personal beef with self-help posts with titles like “Twelve Thing I learned in Therapy.” Not because I don’t love a good list (I love a good list), but because I’ve read others’ lists and books until I’m blue in the face and know that lists don’t change you. Memes don’t change you either. Because they’re just words. This blog is just words. Even if they’re true words, they have no power. You, however, have plenty of power. You have the ability to take an idea and animate it. You can read “exercise” or “be kind” or “be honest,” and you can breathe your life into these ideas. Better said, you can BECOME these ideas. This is how you change yourself, this is how you change the world, and this is how you move mountains. Not with one part of you, but with the entirety of your being.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Answers come built-in. There are no "just problems."

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On Being Comfortable in Your Own Skin (Blog #984)

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This last week I ate three cheeseburgers, two frosty treats, a plateful of salty nachos, a number of bite-sized desserts, and an ungodly amount of peanut butter (although I guess God did make the glorious stuff). And whereas I was expecting to have gained weight since my last weigh-in eight days ago, this afternoon I discovered I’ve actually lost 1.4 pounds. This brings me to not my lowest weight since I decided to get right with the food lord a few months ago, but to almost my lowest. It’s in the top–er, bottom–three. Perhaps dancing and going to the gym last week paid off. Maybe my metabolism is improving thanks to The Brainstem Wizard. Regardless, I’m considering this a Christmas miracle.

God bless us, everyone.

Motivated to not be drastically derailed from my diet by all the easily available holiday sweets (and my willingness to put them in my mouth), I’ve spent today fasting. Whenever I post pictures on the blog I title them first, and tonight’s selfie is called “icouldeatmyownarm.” So that’s how it’s going. Alas, if I can make it several more hours I can go to bed, today’s fast will be over, and peanut butter and I can be friends again.

Because fasting tends to put me in a cranky mood (I could eat my own arm), I’ve spent the day doing non-stressful things–reading books, watching YouTube. But this evening I thought SURELY I could survive a trip to Walmart, Lowe’s, and Walgreens. You know, for just a few items–prescriptions, shampoo, and such. And whereas I went and survived, it took me five minutes to decide what kind of lightbulbs I needed for one of my lamps and ten minutes to decide what kind of rubber grippy things I needed for the bottom of our microwave. Ugh. Thinking is so hard without food. And get this shit. With respect to both the light bulbs AND the rubber grippy things, I made the WRONG decision. Which means I’ll be going back.

Thank god for returns and exchanges.

The problem with the lightbulbs is that they are BRIGHT white and not SOFT white. When I screwed them into my lamp earlier I noticed they looked different on the outside but tried to convince myself they’d still work. Try something new, I thought. But when I turned the lamp on I was like, Ick, gross, too harsh, I could never. I mean, I could if they were the last lightbulbs in the world and I absolutely had to find my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. But as long as I’ve got the option of softer lighting, I’m going for it. I am, after all, not twenty anymore. My skin’s not as tight as it used to be.

It looks better in indirect lighting.

Along these lines, recently a friend I hadn’t seen in a while told me there was something different about me. “If I had to sum it up nicely,” they said, “you’re more comfortable in your own skin.” I replied, “Maybe that’s because with each passing year my skin is easier and easier to fit into.” But seriously, think about it. No wonder taught-skinned teenagers are so angsty. They’re physically constricted, trapped in their own flesh corsets. But–thankfully–as we age we literally loosen up. Our epidermis becomes the equivalent of sweatpants. Isn’t that nice? We get something we can relax in.

Something we can wear to Walmart.

I keep thinking about the fact that I only have so many of these blogs left (until I reach 1,000, until I reach 1,095). One of my friends is planning a small party for my upcoming milestone, and it’s honestly terrifying me (the milestone, not the party). I think, What if I get to the end and still have more to say? What if my last blog isn’t fabulous? What if it’s ordinary? Alas, more and more I realize there will always be more to say and do. We never get it done–because there’s nothing to get done. Life isn’t a to-do list; it’s an experience. Additionally, in a universe where it’s normal for comets to streak across the sky and for full-grown oaks to evolve out of acorns, there’s nothing wrong with being ordinary because what we consider ordinary is actually miraculous. We look in the mirror and pick ourselves apart–this is too loose, that is too big–and we forget.

We’re absolutely marvelous just the way we are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You really do belong here.

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On Returning to Life (Blog #983)

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I spent this afternoon and evening with my friends Kara and Amber. The three of us first met in elementary school and, although we all live in different cities, purpose to get together several times a year. (Let’s get together, yeah, yeah, yeah.) Anyway, today we met at Amber’s house, carpooled to an Italian restaurant, and ended up staying for five hours. Y’all, it was fabulous. The food was wonderful, the company was better, and the refills were free.

I drank so much coffee.

Something the three of us discussed was the idea of holding space for something or someone, the idea being that our lives and relationships are often messy and that we need to allow room for situations and people to just be. As a fixer who likes to talk things out, this has been a tough lesson for me to learn. For the longest time when there was any amount of tension in a relationship, I’d think I had to DO something about it. Once I told my therapist it was awkward when a certain person was at my dance studio, and she said, “So let it be awkward.” This was a revelation. I didn’t have to DO anything. I could leave it alone. Today Amber pointed out that when conversations or confrontations are forced they don’t always end well. “You have to recognize when it’s not the right time,” she said.

Of course, if it’s not the right time (to say your piece or set things right), that means you have to be patient until it is.

Currently it’s 10:45 at night, and I’m absolutely buzzing. Again, I’ve had a lot of coffee. Additionally, I’ve had a lot of sugar–both at the restaurant and back at home. I’ve gone through so much peanut butter lately (I like to mixed it with grape jelly and eat it by the spoonful) that tonight Dad fastened the lid shut with electrical tape. “We just bought this jar last week, and it’s already almost empty!” he said. Then he brought my mom into it. “Judy, if this tape is broken tomorrow, we’ll know Marcus has been at it again.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything,” I said. “Everyone knows I’m the one who’s eating all the peanut butter!”

But seriously, it tastes so good.

Because I’ve been feeling better lately, a phrase that’s been on my mind is “returning to life.” I’ve said previously that before a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly, it first dissolves itself into a black goo. My point being that transformation is an all-in or all-our proposition. You don’t get to be a caterpillar AND a butterfly. You can’t eat your peanut butter and have it (sitting on the counter) too. Said another way, transformation requires the death of your old life, personality, or habits. Jesus died on the cross. The Phoenix died in the flame. There’s a saying that when you seek enlightenment like a man whose hair is on fire seeks water, then–and only then–will you find it. So if you want peace, healing, or God, ask yourself–What am I willing to give up in order to have these things? Can I die? Am I truly ready to be reborn?

In my experience with transformation, returning to life means returning to life as it is, not as I want it to be. It means bringing all of my newfound vitality and everything I’ve learned to the world as it is–messy, horrific, and beautiful. This is what holding space is all about–making room within yourself for the whole of creation. The fun parts, the not-so-fun parts. Life, death, conflict, emotions. Not that you can’t work to change or improve situations or relationships, but know that your primary job is to change yourself. This is gross and always involves dying (metaphorically). But once you’re reborn, everything is different. Behold, all things are become new. For one thing, you stop hiding (I’m the one who ate the peanut butter!). For another, you realize there’s enough room here (inside your heart) for the entire universe and all that it contains–the joy, the suffering. You think, Maybe it’s not all fun, but it’s all okay. You think, This moment is just as it should be.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The truth is right in front of you."

Free from Our Baggage and Bullshit (Blog #982)

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It’s 3:15 in the afternoon, and, like yesterday, I’m blogging earlier than usual because I have plans this evening (last night I went to a show, and tonight I’m going to a dance) and don’t want to be up until all hours writing. Not that I ended up going to bed at a respectable hour last night. Home by 11:00, I was wide awake until 4:00 in the morning. MAAAAYBE I had a smidge too much coffee at dinner. Or it could be that I’ve simply felt better lately and have had–at times–A LOT of energy. My mind starts thinking about things I could do, future projects, and then it’s off to the races. Recently I saw my therapist while I was flying high, and she said, “You’re as happy as I’ve ever seen you.”

I told my therapist that over the last two weeks I’ve felt like a cork that’s been previously held underwater and finally released. Like, WHOOSH! to the surface. She said, “That’s what happens when you’re not suffering.”

Last night my friend Marla and I went to see the comedian Randy Rainbow, and, like I’m wont to do at shows, I bought a magnet as a souvenir. Well, when I got home it was quite the chore to fit the magnet on my magnet board. Alas, after over twenty years of collecting show magnets, my board has gotten quite full. Well, thank god, I finally found a spot. BUT THEN–out of the blue–I remembered a show I saw seven years ago that I never bought a magnet for and impulsively bought it (on sale) online. But where the hell will it go? I thought.

This afternoon I remembered that well over ten years ago when I was still living at home I installed a magnet board covered in vintage movie-star-themed wallpaper on the back of a desk that we still own but whose back is to the wall. Of course, I got excited thinking that I could take the board off the desk and–somehow–mount it in my room. (I realize “mount it” sounds dirty, but I don’t mean it that way. Hell, maybe it doesn’t sound dirty. I’m single. I don’t know these things.) Anyway, down the rabbit hole of possibilities I went considering how I could frame the board and hang it and–because you can’t change one thing without changing everything–how I could rearrange everything else else in my room to accommodate it.

This, as I’ve said before, is why any type of internal or external change is stressful for us. Because deep down we know that changes are like dominos. You set one in motion and then it’s off to the races. You think, I’ll just rearrange this corner, or–I don’t know–go to therapy. The next thing you know, your world’s upside down. At which point you wonder if you’ve done the right thing. But trust me, you have. So just keep going and don’t you dare look back.

Lot’s wife turned to a pillar of salt.

While thinking about my magnet board project I started to get overwhelmed. My Inner Perfectionist told me it had to be “just so,” that there was a right way and a wrong way to do it and that it was MY JOB to figure it out. “Don’t fuck this up,” it said. Thankfully, I ended up telling that guy to give it a damn rest. Because there’s no such thing as perfect, and there’s certainly no way to do this project–or this thing called life–wrong. Granted, there are consequences (results) to our choices, but they’re not as grave as we might imagine. Life is meant to be fun, not so serious.

Along these lines, I ended up putting my project aside to blog for today. Maybe I’ll focus on it next week, maybe I won’t. The world doesn’t turn on my decision. Sure, there will be a domino effect, but–either way–I’ve determined it’s not a big deal.

Last night after the show Marla and I went through a drive-thru to get an ice cream, and–I guess because I have long, fabulous hair–the guy at the window said, “Good evening, ma’am.” Well, I just sat there, letting him figure out that I’m a dude (although I certainly grant it’s getting harder and harder to tell these days). Anyway, he took our order and later when he handed us our frosty treats said, “Good night, sir.” Some people would have been offended about the mix up. But as soon I rolled up my window, Marla and I burst out laughing. This is the power that we have. It’s not life or god who decides if something is a big deal or not–it’s us.

Our perspective determines our experience of reality.

While looking over my magnet collection last night, I remembered with whom I attended each show. And whereas I no longer talk to several of the people who occupy my show memories, I’m proud to say that my memories with them are still fond ones. Thinking of them or the time we spent together doesn’t trigger any resentments. This is good. Not that I want to call them up and go for coffee, but I also don’t want to suffer when I think about them. (The past is over unless we keep it alive.) This afternoon my mom found a picture of me and my sister that neither I or my sister remember seeing before. In it we’re both smiling and laughing big as day. My sister said, “We look so happy.” That’s the deal. Happiness is our natural state. Children know this. We were made to float, not sink through life. And we can. Free from our baggage and bullshit, we WHOOSH! to the surface.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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So perhaps perfection has little to do with that which changes and everything to do with that which doesn't. For surely there is a still, small something inside each of us that never changes, something that is timeless and untouchable, something inherently valuable and lovable--something perfect.

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On Connection and Gratitude (Blog #981)

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It’s 1:21 in the afternoon, and I’m blogging earlier than usual because I’m going out of town tonight to see a show and can only blog while exhausted so many nights in a row. I’m just saying, it takes its toll. This isn’t a complaint. I’m grateful that my life is such right now that I can stay up late to write, sleep in the next day, and basically be master of my own universe (schedule). My therapist says, “You’re a free man. You don’t have any dependents and have few people or things to be accountable to. Enjoy the hell out of it.”

As the Ella Fitzgerald song says, deed I do.

Since starting this blog over two years ago, a number of people have suggested–well–a number of things I could do differently with my life. You know how people love to give unsolicited advice. Specifically, they’ve said, “Why don’t you blog earlier in the day every day!” And whereas I adore getting the blog out of the way on days like today so I can flit and frolic about the town and not have to worry about writing, experience has taught me that I don’t do anything every day in the same way. Some days I blog early; some days I blog late. I’m okay with this. The sun and moon don’t rise and set at the same times every day and night. Variety is the spice of life. It’s never just one way and not the other.

Balance is required for living.

Having only been awake for an hour and a half, I haven’t been thinking about MUCH today, but I HAVE been thinking about gratitude and connection. (I’ll explain.) Last night I went to dinner with a friend who paid for our meal with a gift card from their father. “Tonight’s on him,” they said. “Because of his hard work and generosity, we get to sit, catch up, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company.” Isn’t this the perfect perspective? Even if you go out to dinner on your own dollar, at SOME POINT “your” money belonged to someone else who quite possible had to sweat, toil, and break their back in order to have it and be able to give it to you (so you could give it to someone else). Two days ago I bought a smoothie, but only because someone first bought a dance lesson from me and, before that, someone bought something from them. I could go on, but the fact is evident–we rest on each others shoulders.

We support one another.

As far as I can tell, we’re connected and interdependent whether we like it or not. We rely on friends and strangers to deliver our mail, make our clothes, service our appliances, produce our music. Somebody in China made the cup I’m currently drinking tea out of, and somebody else–somewhere–made the underwear (and shorts) I’m sitting in. Even if I pay for the things in my life, I can’t pick up a fork or a roll of toilet paper without in someway connecting to someone else. This is true even if I don’t care for the person who made or gave me the thing. Indeed, this laptop, on which I’ve written this blog that’s changed my life for the better, was a birthday present from my ex, who was such a shit and I wouldn’t have coffee with if you paid me to (although you never know what you’re going to do until you do it). And yet he gifted me a number of things that have been absolutely essential for my journey. So more and more I realize that you don’t have to like someone, something, or a situation in order to be grateful for it.

You can feel gratitude up close or from a distance.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

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Trust That Answers Are Coming (Blog #980)

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Today I finished reading three books–Esoterism & Symbol by R. A. Schwaller de Lubicz, The Hanged Man: Psychotherapy and the Forces of Darkness by Sheldon Kopp, and The Power of Your Other Hand: A Course in Channeling the Inner Wisdom of the Right Brain by Lucia Capacchione. And whereas I only this week started the first two books, I started the third one over a year ago. Alas, it’s sat on my shelf collecting dust since last summer, just waiting for me to notice it. Well, today was the day. I can’t tell you how good it felt to finally be done. And yes, I know that I didn’t HAVE to finish it. But I genuinely wanted to, was actually interested in what it had to say.

I’ve talked about divine timing before, and I continue to be amazed by it. While reading the book I just mentioned, I noticed several things made sense to me that wouldn’t have made sense to me a year ago. Better said, several things STOOD OUT to me that wouldn’t have before. But they did stand out because of other books I’ve read over the past year. I kept thinking, Oh, there was a reason I didn’t pick you back up until today. I wasn’t ready for you yet.

This evening I had dinner with a friend (we’d planned on going out this weekend but at the last minute decided to go tonight) and told them of my recent and positive results with upper cervical care. When they asked HOW I found out about this healthcare modality, I credited a dancer friend (whom I honestly don’t talk to very often) who mentioned online their positive results with upper cervical care (that they received over ten years ago). And whereas I can’t say what’s going to happen or not happen over the next few months in terms of my healing, I can say that based on how much I’ve improved in the last two weeks (I truly feel like my innate healing powers have been given back to me), this whole setup is what I’ve been praying and waiting for.

By setup I mean–I don’t think any of this has been accidental.

Getting back to the idea of divine timing, I’m astounded by what all had to happen or not happen in order for me to find out about this form of treatment. Fifteen years ago my friend and I had to meet. Ten years ago my friend had to be sick and–God knows how–find her doctor. Earlier this year my friend and I had to reconnect. And then there’s what had to happen to get my doctor close enough that I could drive to him, since he used to be located much farther away, like the only other two people in the state who do what he does. Anyway, I could go on but won’t. I just keep thinking that answers are being lined up for us LONG before we even ask our questions. I just keep thinking that it doesn’t make much sense for me to try to tell the universe how to do its obviously complex job.

Because it’s doing just fine.

When I wasn’t reading today, I was tidying up my room. My therapist says when you’re feeling SCARCITY, one way to feel ABUNDANCE is to give something away. “It doesn’t have to be a lot,” she says. “It could be a dollar, a t-shirt, a hour of your time. Anything to get the energy flowing.” So that’s what I did, picked out stuff to donate–several shirts, a pair of shoes (the too-big ones I tore my ACL in), a handful of books I’ll either never read or never read again. Let someone else enjoy them, I thought. Then I went through my “paper pile” and threw this in the trash, filed that in a folder. Then I reorganized a few shelves in my closet. You know how one thing leads to another.

I wish I could tell you WHY I felt compelled to tidy up my room today or–as I’ve been doing recently–clean up my Facebook friends list. My therapist says any cleaning out makes room for other things to come along, so maybe that’s it. Maybe a part of me knows that this blog is coming to a close and–at the same time–my body is mending, so I just need more “room,” more health for whatever is coming next. But this is speculation. I can’t say why anything happened today, just like I can’t say why the sun rose this morning. I only know that it did, it was right on time, and it was perfect. More and more I know it’s not my job to know why. Rather, it’s my job to follow my inner guidance, that voice that says, “Check out that doctor. Read this book, not that one. Go to dinner now, not later.” It’s my job to be patient, trust that answers are coming, and enjoy the mystery of it all.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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On Endings and Beginnings (Blog #979)

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This morning I saw my therapist and, in the midst of going through my list of things to talk about, got derailed. Even though I hadn’t planned on discussing it, I jumped on a tangent about this blog and how it’s coming to a close. (I only have 22 blogs including this one until 1,000, then 13 weeks and 6 days until THE END). “I feel like I’m entering lame-duck territory,” I said. “It’s scary. This project has been such a touchstone and healing force in my life, and I have no idea what’s coming next. I’m flailing.”

My therapist said she understood how intimidating transitions can be, AND that even if I don’t continue to blog here daily, I’ve planted A LOT of seeds. “Any number of other projects could EASILY grow out of what you’ve started,” she said. “For example, a book.” Oh my gosh, y’all, when I think about all the things I could do with what I’ve learned thanks to this blog, my mind absolutely flies. I could go on for days, in any number of formats, about how this discipline has turned my life around and upside down for the better. Recently my mom told me that although all my posts are good (thanks, Mom), they’ve really been “exceptional” lately. “You’re in the groove,” she said. “Your writing is seamless. The blog’s done for you what you wanted it to.” That is to say, it’s given me a successful writing practice. Even more, it’s given me myself.

This, of course, has been worth all the effort, time, and money spent.

I guess I’m afraid that when my last “in a row” blog is posted I’ll somehow lose everything I’ve gained. There’s a certain sadness, a heaviness that’s been stalking me, a grief I often feel when I return home from a fabulous vacation. It says, “Crap, the show is over. What now?” It says, “What if we never feel that way again?” At the same time, there’s a certain high, a sense of pride that says, “Hot damn, we did it. Not matter what happens from this point forward, we did it. Nobody can ever take that away.” Perhaps this mix of emotions is what newlyweds feel when the honeymoon is over and people start asking when in god’s name they’re going to begin popping out children. Everyone’s so focused on what’s going to happen after. It’s so difficult to be right here, right now, to sit with whatever arises–excitement, wonder, despair, confusion–on the first day, on the last day.

In Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino’s character sings, “Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay?” I totally get this “I want to hold on but also want to let go” feeling. Despite my deep affection for this project, as I imagine reaching 1,000 and, at the end of March, 1,095 posts, I picture an enormous weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Y’all, this daily-writing and baring-my-soul-on-the-internet bullshit has been and continues to be my choice, and, as I’ve said ad nauseam, it’s all too often exhausting. As these last three years have played host to the the most challenging health crises I’ve ever face, there have been days when life has simply been “too much” and the last thing I wanted to do was take to the web and be honest. Because it’s always easier to run and hide. This being said, I don’t recommend running and hiding. For one thing, there’s nowhere to go.

For another, you’ve gotta meet yourself sooner or later. After all, you’re with yourself all the time. You’re the one you wake up with, the one who tucks you in at night.

People say it’s the journey, not the destination. As a goal-oriented, results-focused person, I hate this. But it’s true. Since starting this project I’ve often fantasized about having so many readers or–I should be so lucky–a certain amount of monetary compensation for my efforts. (Any would be nice). Still, there are bloggers with millions of readers and authors with millions of dollars who nonetheless feel like they haven’t arrived. But how could they–how could any of us–get “there”? Again, there’s nowhere to go. There’s only “here.”

This afternoon I listened to a fabulous talk by Caroline Myss about Alice in Wonderland, and one of my takeaways was that the point of any hero’s or heroine’s journey is changing your inner world, not your outer one. The mystical and ironic consequence of changing your inner world being that–surprise!–your outer world changes too. It has to. At the very least it will look different than it did before (less scary, more manageable, ever so much more enchanting), and this is the same thing. Perception determines your experience of reality.

Along these lines, since we use words to frame our experiences, Caroline suggests flipping your language script. For example, instead of thinking of my health issues as Problems or Challenges, I could–and often do–think of them as Opportunities (to learn about myself, heal, and connect with others), Adventures (who knows what will happen next!), or Initiations (into the Greater Mysteries of life). I’ve often blogged about Going Down the Rabbit Hole, and this is what I’m talking about. Any Hero’s Journey that’s worth it salt will turn everything in your life upside down, including the way you think and talk about your experiences. This doesn’t happen because the universe is bored and feels like shaking up your life the way a toddler shakes up a snow globe. Rather, it happens because, from your soul’s perspective, your world’s been wrong-side up for a while now and it’s simply time to set things right-side up. This looks and feels like Chaos to you and me, a falling apart, but to the gods–well–it’s a Grace, a putting things back together. Our endings are our beginnings.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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Commit to the Process (Blog #978)

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Last week I wrote about my amazing experience with upper cervical care, and this afternoon I had another successful appointment with my doctor, the man I’m starting to refer to as The Brainstem Wizard. And whereas I’ll spare you all the details of my adjustment (because it honestly was a lot like last week’s except I didn’t cry as much) and the free class about upper cervical care I attended later in the evening, I will say that I’m completely sold on the process.

Apparently upper cervical doctors concentrate solely on the top one or two vertebrae (the atlas and the axis, respectively) because these bones not only support our head, but also house and protect our brainstem, which controls virtually everything else in our bodies. The idea being that an injury (like a car accident or even being YANKED out of your mother’s vagina by a full-grown OBGYN) can easily misalign your upper cervical vertebrae (they’re free-floating by design because you need to be able to turn your head), put pressure on your brainstem, and wreak havoc. Tonight The Brainstem Wizard said that from the time we’re born until the time we croak our bodies are ALWAYS ready to heal, but if our brainstem can’t properly function, we’re fighting a losing battle. Think about a water hose that’s kinked up. You’ve got to take the pressure off.

A point that was really driven home to me today was that “this is a process” and “we’re in this for longterm results.” In other words, I’m going to have ups and downs. Indeed, there will be days that I feel like crap and my job will simply be to trust that my body knows what it’s doing. “Just because you have symptoms doesn’t mean you’re not healthy,” I was told, “and just because you’re symptom-free doesn’t mean you are.”

Something I appreciate about my visit today is that I was presented with a proposal or plan. Basically the doctor suggested I come once a week for four months, every other week for three months after that, and once a month for five months after that. In other words, he asked me to commit to a year–a year of driving two hours round trip, a year of paying for visits, a year of following his protocols (which are more than reasonable in my opinion but do include severely cutting back on coffee). “Based on what you have going on and my experiences, this is how long I think it will take,” he said.

Because I’ve seen more positive results in the last week with this guy than I have in the last two years with half a dozen others, I signed on the dotted line. Hell, it took five to ten years for me to REALLY learn how to dance, and I’ve been going to therapy for almost six. A year to get my body back on track (which I really think this process can help me do) is certainly worth it. And four months, which (I think) is the time frame during which most of the results will be realized, is nothing.

To be clear, this entire ordeal is not cheap. That being said, it’s not any more expensive and is actually less expensive than many forms of chiropractic, massage, and even dancing. It’s just not covered by my insurance. But I’ve said before that everything comes with a price, and this is a point I’d really like to drive home tonight. If you want anything in your life to improve (including your health, your relationships, and your Cha Cha), you better pony up the dough. Now, by “the dough” I’m not just talking about your money. I’m also talking about your time, mental and emotional resources, and even how your life works in general. I’ve been very clear about the fact that since I started therapy a number of important relationships in my life have dissolved. This is what I mean. On one level it’s TERRIFYING for me to heal emotionally and physically because I know that means MORE confrontations, MORE being honest. For example, if The Brainstem Wizard is able to cure me of my headaches, I can never again say, “Not tonight, dear. I have a migraine.” I’ll have to tell the truth instead.

I’d rather read a book than sleep with you.

For years I’ve sung the praises of my therapist and am now singing the praises of The Brainstem Wizard, and–I don’t know–only one in a hundred people say, “I’d love their number.” Honestly, I don’t think this lack of interest is because people don’t believe my good results or don’t want them for themselves. And, yes, I’m VERY open to the idea that people know what’s best for them and are able to find answers elsewhere. At the same time, I know that for every two dozen people who tell me they ADORE Dancing with the Stars and would LOVE to take lessons, only one person will. Because anything new (including learning to dance and being healthier) is scary. Plus, as I’ve said before, changing one thing (even for the better) means changing everything.

And who wants to do that?

More and more, I do. Not because I’m gunning to have my life turned upside down, but because I’m finally figuring out that having my life turned upside down is the only way to really get anywhere, the only way to really get any peace. So this continues to be my advice. If you’re suffering, get some good help–and don’t shit yourself about whether or not something is working. If it’s been six months and you’re not improving, try something else. Just don’t give up. When you find something that does work, commit to the process. Go all in. Jump feet first. Put in your money and your time. Any investment in yourself will pay off big, I promise.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life proceeds at its own pace.

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The Gift of Indifference (Blog #977)

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Today I’ve been thinking about power.

I’ll explain.

According to Caroline Myss, life is about power. To help people become aware of their own power, she often asks audience members, “Do you want my magic marker?” Of course, no one does. Think about it. Unless you have a strange fetish for Sharpies, it’s like, Whatever, lady, I don’t need your pen. I’m just fine without it. “THAT’S how you SHOULD feel when something has NO POWER over you,” she says.

Conversely, we all know what it feels like when something–or someone–HAS power over us. Yesterday I blogged about my being jealous of or wanting approval from other (in my opinion, better) swing dancers, and this is what I’m talking about, that feeling that you NEED something from someone else. If you personally don’t give a shit what some Lindy Hop guru thinks of you, good. Also, this illustrates that someone could easily HOLD POWER over me but BE A MAGIC MARKER to you. Still, even if this is the case, I guarantee there’s SOMETHING or SOMEONE you want something from, something or someone who pulls you out of your authenticity. Because that’s the deal. When you GIVE your power away to someone else, you quite literally give part of your life to them to manage for you. In the extremes this looks like being someone else’s whipping boy, bitch, or puppet, which is what the story of Pinocchio is about. At first anyone could make him do anything, but the more he listened to HIS conscience, the more REAL he became and the less others could control him.

Along these lines, how many times have you said, “I can’t, you decide”? Or, “What do YOU think I should do?”? I’m not saying it’s the end of the world to ask someone else’s opinion or advice, but when someone else says jump and you start hopping, that’s a problem. Here’s another, more specific way to dig into this. If you were going to move, change jobs, start a relationship, or, hell, go out to dinner tomorrow, whose approval would you need first? You might think this is a ridiculous question, and on one level it is. You shouldn’t need ANYONE’S approval to go to the International House of Pancakes. But on another level, we all know people who stay in miserable towns, jobs, and marriages because they’re afraid of disappointing their parents, spouses, friends, or god.

Recently I blogged about how one person can influence another (and to be clear, that influence can be positive just as well as negative), and used the example of a man my dad met in prison who introduced our family to the Old Testament Law. And whereas I could go on for days about how our lives changed thanks to this introduction, the long and the short of it is I stopped eating bacon. In terms of tonight’s conversation, I now see that I’d given my power away. Specifically, I gave up my POWER TO CHOOSE between a roast beef and ham sandwich. Instead, I let someone else (my dad’s friend, my dad, the Old Testament, God) do that for me. I did this because, as I told my chiropractor who deals with emotions today, “I was AFRAID God was going to WAX MY ASS if I didn’t obey him.”

“Wax your ass?” he said. “Now THAT would be an interesting sensation.”

At which point we both laughed.

Because this has been on my mind so much lately and because I think this is hugely important, here’s ANOTHER way to look at this issue of power. This afternoon I went to the Fort Smith Public Library for their annual rare and vintage book sale. (Y’all know I love a good book with an attractive cover.) Well, right off the bat I noticed an old set of eight illustrated books about the human body–the circulatory system, the nervous system, etc. And whereas I’m not a doctor or a biologist, I got sucked right in. The drawings are so pretty, I thought. The covers are gorgeous–pristine. And all for $35. But then I thought, You have no NEED for these, Marcus. And don’t kid yourself–you’re NEVER going to read them. So I put them down like a hot potato, browsed around the room, and ultimately walked away empty handed.

But of course I had my $35.

My point in telling this story is that we all know that googly-eyed feeling of being drawn in by a pretty object or person. This is what it feels like when your power LEAVES YOU. Again, I’m not saying it’s bad to desire something (it’s kind of fun actually), but I am saying–let’s be clear–anytime you start acting like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (I WANTS IT), you’re under a spell. If you get the thing–or person–home later and have buyer’s remorse, maybe you didn’t completely give away your power car, but you definitely gave up the wheel for a while.

My therapist says the natural state of the universe is neutral, and more and more neutrality is my goal. This looks like me being real middle-of-the-road about how much money I have, whether or not other people like me or want to take me to bed, and how the rest of the world perceives me. I have a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous who says that when thinking about people who have absolutely done you wrong, you don’t want to seething-hate them, but you don’t want to squishy-love them either. “Your goal is indifference,” they say. This is the same thing as being neutral.

You WANT them to be a magic marker.

If being indifferent sounds cold, maybe it is. My therapist says when it comes to money, she has ice water running through her veins. But what this really means is that she’s NOT ATTACHED to money or the things it can buy. That is, they have NO POWER over her. Consequently, she’s a badass business woman. So she can walk into a car dealership and, even if she adores a certain vehicle, if the price isn’t right, she can walk away. This is the gift of indifference. This is what neutrality really is, being empowered enough to not feel like you HAVE to buy the thing, take the miserable job, or do what someone else wants. It’s having YOUR power, YOUR spirit, at home in YOUR body and NOT somewhere else.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We may never be done, but that doesn't mean we'll never be complete. And surely we are complete right here, right now, and surely there is space enough for the full moon, for you and for me, and all our possibilities.

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