Pennies (Not Panties) from Heaven (Blog #120)

Today I’ve tried (tried) to give God a little more credit. More credit for being–I don’t know–intelligent. More credit for being–interested. Because I’m just going to say it. I’ve spent plenty of time thinking he (or she, if you like) doesn’t give a damn. I mean, about me, my checkbook, and the fact that I go to bed alone every night. (Although I do think I’m currently sharing the room with a mouse.) I just figured he’s–well–busy. But last night I read something in The Artist’s Way that went something like this–Oh, God can figure out the subatomic structure of the universe but can’t find answers to your problems?

Well, when you put it that way.

Lately I’ve been saying to myself and out loud, “I’m willing to accept gifts from the universe.” Today I added, “God’s pretty smart. He wants to help me and has lots of money and lots of answers.” So get this. Today I had a chiropractor appointment, and that was supposed to be it–no massage because all the therapists were booked. But in the middle of my appointment, one of the therapists (a guy who worked on me last week) had a cancellation, so I got in–without even asking. Well, he worked on my uneven hips, a problem that’s been a problem for ten years, maybe twenty. And in less than an hour, there was definite progress. They aren’t twisted as badly as they were before, and they hurt less. Tonight I went running and had to get used to a new rhythm because my gait is actually different.

How about that?

After the appointment I binged on reading material because my week of reading deprivation is over. (Hallelujah.) Then I went to get a smoothie because I may be addicted. And right there in the parking lot were about seventy pennies–pennies from heaven. I know it’s only seventy cents, but I wasn’t about the tell the universe, “I’m sorry, that’s not enough free money for me to bother,” so I scooped up every one of those suckers.

Then while I was running some errands, I got a message from a friend who offered me free tickets to Art on the Border and the Peacemaker Music Festival tonight. So I scooped those up too. (Thanks, friend.) Well, while I was at the art exhibit, I ran into two of my favorite people, Bruce and Lyn, and since they were headed to the music festival, I shamelessly asked if I could hang out with them. (They said yes, and on the way there we saw a pair of panties on the sidewalk. No, we didn’t touch them. Bruce said I should blog about it, so that’s what I’m doing. So just to be clear, I’ll pick up pennies from heaven, but not panties from heaven. There’s a difference.)

One of the reasons I wanted to go to the festival was to see the inflatable art installed (for this weekend only) by D*Face, an artist who’s done two murals in downtown Fort Smith. Well, from far away, all I saw was a blow-up Snoopy and Hello Kitty, something like you might see in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Isn’t that cute? I thought. But when I got closer, they turned out to be zombies. Zombies! Snoopy looked like Hannibal Lecter, and Hello Kitty looked like she got into a fight at a lesbian biker bar (and lost).

Personally, if I’d seen something like this as a child, I would have wet the bed for a month.

I ended up spending most of the evening with Lyn’s daughter Leigh, who was also at the music festival. Since this is quickly becoming a blog about abundance and gratitude, I’ll go ahead and say that Leigh gave me a free beer–and a half. (Thanks, Leigh.) That’s all four of us (Bruce, Lyn, Marcus, Leigh) in the picture at the top of the blog. Aren’t they adorable? Lyn made us retake the first picture and told Bruce to “show your teeth,” then afterwards he facetiously asked if his hair looked okay.

Bruce and Lyn and I left in between acts, and then I walked around to check out the mural progress. Here’s the other side of the double-decker bus that’s at the Park at West End. It’s a giraffe in a spacesuit. Pretty sweet, huh? Notice the big cock in the background. (First panties in the street and now this. What’s the world coming to?)

Lastly I checked out the alien in the bamboo hat–and friends. Take a look. I’m assuming at least one of the people who bent over right as I was taking the photo is the artist. Talk about bad timing. Or–if you prefer–serendipity.

To(may)to, to(mah)to.

One one hand, it’d be easy to say that “nothing spectacular” happened today, that it was just “a really good day,” and as for the unexpected and wonderful massage, the pennies from heaven, and the free tickets and beer (with people I love!)–well–isn’t that neat? But Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” So I’m choosing to see all the things that happened today as miracles, even the sidewalk panties. Granted, manifested underwear isn’t on the same scale as manna from heaven, but it’s a start. And if God can arrange a last-minute massage (that helps fix a literal long-standing problem), and whip up some free entertainment (just for fun), then surely He can do any number of things. What’s more, surely he wants to.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

The Magic of Tom Collins (Blog #105)

Not to be a stereotypical homosexual, but I love (LOVE) a good musical, and rarely a week goes by that I don’t listen to at least one Broadway show tune. All that being said–and I hope I don’t offend anyone here–and by that I mean I don’t care if I offend anyone here–but I’m not IN LOVE with the musical Rent. I mean, I adore parts of it, but I have a difficult time with the soundtrack because of all the “voicemail” numbers and all the BEEPING. Maybe it feels too much like real life to me. Anyway, a few weeks ago–for no apparent reason–I put on the Rent soundtrack for the first time “in a month of Sundays” while driving to Fayetteville.

As I’m wont to do, I eventually settled on a single, solitary song called “Santa Fe” that I kept on repeat for nearly a week. I can’t tell you why, but I must have listened to it fifty times or more. It’s this snappy little tune about a guy and his boyfriend who are dreaming about getting out of New York City and running away to open up a restaurant in–you guessed it–Santa Fe. Maybe my fascination had something to do with dreaming and thinking about what’s possible.

Within a week of listening to “Santa Fe” for the first time (recently), I got the ever-living shit knocked out of me and my car when I was rear-ended in the worst possible way. Within three days of the accident, I knew my car (a Honda Civic) was totaled and that I’d need a new one. So I made one phone call to a dear friend who almost always knows what to do (and if he doesn’t at least sounds like he does). He said, “Go see Johnny Jack in Van Buren. Tell him what’s going on. He’ll treat you right, and if he says it’s a good car, it’s a good car.”

So that’s what I did. On Monday, July 3rd, about closing time, I stopped by Jack’s Motor Company and met Johnny. Initially he steered me toward a Ford Focus, which met all my requirements in terms of price. But I didn’t like it. (I still don’t like it. You can’t make me like it.) But Johnny said I should come back the next day and test drive it. “I’d really like an SUV,” I said. “How much is that Nissan Murano?”

“Too much,” Johnny said. (I’m paraphrasing.)

But then Johnny continued, “In a couple of days I should have another SUV in. It might be just the thing.” And then he quoted me a price that actually seemed doable, probably thanks to the person who sent me over. So the next day, July 4th, I went back to Johnny’s with the intention of test driving the Focus, just to give it a chance. (Everyone deserves a chance.) But when I got there Johnny said, “You’re in luck. That SUV I was telling you about got delivered early.” And there it was, a beautiful 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe, freshly cleaned with the stereo blasting one of my favorite tunes, “Africa” by Toto.

Did you catch that the car was a Santa Fe–like the song?

Well, I took the car for a spin and fell in love within five minutes. I picked up Mom and Dad, and Dad said, “Bite the bullet. You’re not going to be happy with anything else.” When I got back to the lot, I told Johnny that I wanted it, and he said, “I’ll put a sold sign on it. Whenever you settle the insurance claim, it’s yours.”

It was that easy. I really only had to look at one car.

A little over a week later, the insurance check finally cleared. Today was the day! I guess I thought buying a new car would be a hassle, but it wasn’t. Johnny was awesome. Is awesome. As one friend who knows him said, “He’s the man.”

I’m calling the car Tom Collins, since that’s the character who sings the song about Santa Fe in Rent. And I don’t mind saying he’s pretty sweet. It’s the first time I’ve ever owned a daily driver with leather interior, heated seats, powered everything, tinted windows, and a moon roof. Plus, it’s pretty spacious, the perfect size to host an intimate wedding reception. But seriously, I couldn’t be more excited. I mean, if you have to get slammed in the ass while minding your own business and are forced to buy a new set of wheels, a car like Tom Collins is the way to go. As my aunt Carla said, “There’s a difference between living and living well.”

You may already know this, but Tom Collins isn’t just a character from a musical about being broke and infected with HIV. It’s also a drink–made with gin, lemons, sugar, and carbonated water–that’s been around for over a century. And whereas I’ve lived my entire adult life and never had a Tom Collins, I figured today was a good time to change that. So this evening I celebrated the Santa Fe by going to El Zarape with my friend Justin and ordering (and drinking) the adult beverage that shares the name of my new car.

Well, sort of. My friend Jimmy was our waiter and bartender, and he’d never heard of a Tom Collins. So we Googled it, and he said, “Sure, I can do that.” But when he talked to the other bartenders about it, they said, “The carbonated water will ruin the alcohol. So leave that out, add a splash of Triple Sec, and use another orange liqueur instead of an actual orange for garnish.”

OMG, y’all. These are the kinds of friends you need in your life. Jimmy’s Modified Tom Collins was UH-MAZING. It was basically like lemonade on steroids.

GRRRR.

When Justin and I got back to his house, his wife, Ashley, and her friend Schuyler wanted to go out for Taco Bell, so I said, “I’ll drive!” (I’ve never had a car I’ve been proud to pile a bunch of people in for a fast food run. God. It really is the little things.) Anyway, at Taco Bell when it was our turn at the Drive-Thru, the voice on the other end said, “Just a moment please,” and without thinking I blurted out, “Take your time. Order when you’re ready.”

And then everyone inside Tom Collins exploded with laughter, which I thought was the perfect way to start our new life together.

I’ve spent most of today in awe at the way the universe works, the fact that something that initially seemed awful (my car wreck) turned out so well. Before me, the Santa Fe was owned by only one person, a little old lady whom I spoke with on the phone and told me the only reason she was getting rid of it was because she’d backed into a trashcan and wanted a car with a backup camera. Now that I’ve spent a day with Tom Collins, I kind of want to call her back and tell her how grateful I am she didn’t see that trashcan. And I could just hug my friend who sent me to Johnny, and I’d dance at Johnny’s wedding, except for the fact that he’s already married.

I guess a lot of people would say that my randomly listening to a song called “Santa Fe” a week before my car accident and an old lady hitting a trashcan with her Santa Fe vehicle and then trading it in at the same time I started car shopping were simply coincidences. But at this point in my life, I know better. Joseph Campbell said, “When we follow our bliss, we are met by a thousand unseen helping hands.” Personally, I love this. It’s like I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for something magical to happen, and then one day I realized magic has been happening all around me this entire time, gently waiting for me to notice, to start dreaming again, to believe that anything and everything is possible because–it is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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excitement turned upside down (blog #35)

Today I drove to Northwest Arkansas with the intent of settling the hospital bill from my sinus surgery. The bill was several thousand dollars—after insurance—and I was hoping to get a discount by paying it all at once. (Thank God for credit cards.) My other goal for the afternoon was to call my dentist’s office and schedule ANOTHER appointment to deal with residual sensitivity and pain after I had two fillings a month ago.

Things like this always make me nervous. It’s like anyone who sits behind a desk reminds me of a principal or a judge and brings up all my authority issues. (Have I mentioned that Dad went to prison?) So I spent the entire drive to the hospital this afternoon feeling like I’d just had half a pot of coffee, going over in my head how I would turn on my charm and what I could say to the nice billing officer.

Well, there were two ladies working in the billing department, and as I sized both of them up, I figured neither one had been laid in a year (but maybe that’s just me projecting). And since I always end up in the wrong lane at the grocery store, I was convinced neither lady was going to make my day any better.

Only one lady was moving people through her office, and eventually it was my turn. After I sat down, I introduced myself, showed her my bill, and asked what the options were. Specifically, I asked about the note at the bottom of the bill that said there was a discount if the balance was paid in full. Then rather matter-of-factly, she told me that specific offer was no longer valid. She said there was a new sheriff in town and he was pretty strict about deadlines, and I’d missed mine by a few days.

Shit.

My therapist says that money is a real “sticky wicket” for me, that I have a “poverty mentality.” She also says that considering my background, it’s understandable, but that it doesn’t apply to my life now. It’s like I’ve been running old software and need a new program. “The universe is abundant,” she says. That’s the new program I can’t quite get to load. (To better explain why I can’t quite load it, here’s a picture of what happened to our house when I was four.)

Back in the billing office, just as I thought everything was going south and that I’d have to pay the bill in full, the lady starts talking to me about an assistance program they have for people who live with their parents (at least that’s what I thought she said). She asked, “Do you make less than $35,000 a year?”

I tried not to laugh. “Yes, I certainly do.”

So the lady just goes to work filling out forms and asking me questions about my income and my bank account. Well, I immediately go back to being nervous because I hate anything official, and that includes forms and paperwork and bank statements. Again, I’m going to blame that on Dad.

I’ve talked to my therapist about situations like these, the way I flip shit inside whenever something involves authority AND money. And this was her response: “Would you STOP IT with your FUCKING Blair Witch Project?”

“Are you saying I’m overreacting?”

So I took a deep breath today, answered all the lady’s questions, and signed all the forms. And when it was over, she said that it would take thirty days to know for sure, but the program would most likely pay for seventy to ninety percent of my hospital bill, and I’d just be responsible for the rest.

Holy crap. Major “living with your parents” silver lining.

Well, I really wanted to hug her, but decided that wouldn’t be appropriate. So I just said, “Thank you. You’re my new best friend.”

I realize nothing is settled yet, and I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, but wow. I went in hoping for a ten to twenty percent discount and potentially ended up with something much, much better. I mean, the whole time I was sitting there thinking, This won’t work, I’m screwed, and this lady just kept plowing through, like, “I am going to help you, damn it.”

The universe is on my side.

There’s an affirmation I wrote down from a book I read once that says, “The universe is on my side. It pushes good to me.” And whereas I’ve always thought that sounded nice, I definitely experienced it today. So maybe the universe is abundant. And fine, I admit it. I was wrong.

Back in the car, I called the dentist’s office and made another appointment—like an adult. Despite my nervousness, it went fine. My therapist told me once that nervousness is basically excitement turned upside down—or inside out—I can’t remember which. But we were talking about my having a confrontation with a friend, and that’s what she said. Like, I know you think you’re about to soil your pants because you don’t want to do this, but the truth is that your subconscious is excited about it, and that’s why your bowels are about to evacuate.

I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes.

Well, it turns out she was right. (I hate that.) I had the confrontation and felt like a million bucks. And today after talking to the billing lady and calling the dentist’s office, I also felt like a million bucks. Okay, so maybe I felt like eighteen dollars and seventy-nine cents, but all my nervousness disappeared, and I was really proud of myself for “feeling the fear and doing it anyway.” And maybe from now on, I won’t look at nervousness as “something bad’s about to happen,” but rather “something good’s about to happen.” Why shouldn’t it? The universe is on my side.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to give up wanting something before you can have it.

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there’s plenty of room here (blog #22)

At this moment, it’s a quarter ’til midnight, and I’m in Wichita, Kansas, which the locals say is “Wichitawesome.” (Isn’t that adorable? I think it’s a lot better than the one my friend Craig came up with for Fort Smith, which is “Fort Smith—It’s okay.”) I drove up earlier today for a Lindy Hop weekend called Sunflower Swing, and it’s going on now. The ballroom has started to thin a bit, but it’s still full, and the sounds of jazz skip across the floor, as do the dancers.

My typical experience watching Lindy Hop dancers is twofold. On one hand, I’m completely inspired by the talent, creativity, and—at the very least—enthusiasm. But if you haven’t met me, I tend to be pretty judgmental, which means I either end up feeling better than every one else, or feeling like everyone else is better than I am. Facebook reminded me today of a quote, I think by Eckhart Tolle, that goes something like, “When you feel better than or less than someone else, that’s your ego.” So my ego is definitely here tonight. I mean, I don’t remember inviting him, but I guess it’s good to know he hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s nothing if not loyal.

On the way here, I stopped in Tulsa to see my friends Gregg and Rita. They’re probably the Lindy Hop friends I’ve known the longest, and two of the coolest. And although they are lovely dancers, that’s not why I love them. Rather, I love them because they love the dance and love other people. Plus, they’re just amazing. Rita used to dance for Disney, and Gregg used to ice skate and teach blind people how to snow ski. And I guess when I dance with them, my ego gets quiet because the joy I feel dancing with my friends is louder than my ego could ever be. Today we even danced in Panera Bread.

It’s like I always have this moment that I’m having right now at dance weekends. I’m having fun, and then my ego pops up out of nowhere, like, HEEEEEEY, I’m over here! And then he starts telling me how great I am (which feels pretty good), and then he sucker punches me and tells me I’m not as perfect as someone else seems to be. (Rude, I know. Total party crasher. Bad form.) And it usually just takes a few hours for me to convince him once again that we’re just fine, it’s only a dance, and he’s welcome to go sit against the wall with the other nerds.

My therapist says I have an abundance issue and that I’m pretty focused on scarcity. (I’m working on it.) Usually this is in the context of money, but she says that if you’re into scarcity, it’s across the board. Like, sometimes I think, Where’s all the sex? (See, scarcity. But really, where is it?) So for the last thirty minutes, I’ve been thinking about this whole ego, comparison, who’s-the-better-dancer bullshit in terms of abundance and scarcity. I’m thinking that I’m approaching the matter as if there’s not enough talent to go around, that if someone else is succeeding or doing well, that somehow diminishes me and my success. (This dance floor’s not big enough for the both of us!)

When I look at it on paper, it sounds kind of ridiculous. (Silly ego.) Still, it’s how I feel–sometimes. My therapist says that when you feel like there’s not enough of something to go around, that’s the time to open up. That’s the time to give–give thanks, give money, give your talents. So during this period of my life when it feels like I don’t have a lot of stuff (did I mention that I sold it all?), or a job, or a plan, or a six-pack, I’ve been trying–trying–to open up to the idea that there is abundance here somewhere. (Hello! Where are you hiding, abundance?)

Well, so far what I’ve come up with is that I have an abundance of time. I don’t have a deadline to move out of my parents’ house. I get to sleep in every day. I get to do whatever the hell I want, whenever I want. And a lot of people aren’t in that situation. So I can give my time to my friends, and I can listen. I also have an abundance of talent. (I used to think this was bragging, but my therapist says it’s just a fact.) As Craig says, I “suffer from doing a number of things well.” So that means that I can give my writing to this blog and to anyone who reads it. I can give my dance knowledge to my students, or kids like the ones at last week’s dance who wanted to learn more. I can help my parents out with odd jobs around the house, like fixing the garage door, since they are unable to do it for themselves.

But back to the dance tonight, which is now over. (My friend Megan, whom I’m staying with, and I left the first venue when it closed, went back to her house, grabbed some food–food always helps–then went to the second venue. And now we’re back at her house where I can use the internet, which means I don’t have to upload this entire blog from my phone. More abundance. There’s internet IN THE AIR.) As I think about it now, there was an abundance of talent tonight, more than enough to go around. And there was an abundance of room, not just room to move around in, but room for every single person, including me, to grow and learn in. And there was room for my ego to show up, and room for us to sort things out. There was room for my mood to improve, dip back down for a while, then pop back up again.

I guess no one comes into this life knowing how to dance, always moving with grace. No, at best we stumble along, often forgetting there’s room for that too.

[Special thanks to my friend Megan for hosting me, taking the two photos of me dancing at the top of this blog, and for the great dances and conversation tonight. Your abundant generosity sent my ego running.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Damn if good news doesn't travel the slowest.

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