These Hundreds of Thousands of Words (Blog #1094)

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Phew. All day I’ve been tired, sad. And whereas I could blame lack of sleep and a number of other things, the fact is I’ve already begun to grieve the loss of this blog. Including tonight, I only have three more posts to go. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just like when a person dies you go through all those stages–denial, anger, grief, acceptance, bargaining–I’m going through those with this. Denial because, has it really been three years? Anger because of what hasn’t happened, hopes and expectations that haven’t been met. Ugh. All the feelings. The good news being that, so much more than three years ago, I’m open to all the feelings and what they have to teach me. Sweetheart, letting go is never easy.

At times throughout this process I’ve imagined that I’d, I guess, somehow be perfectly healed, or just perfect, on the other side of this thing. And that one of my final posts would be like, here’s how I did it. And how you can too for three easy payments of $127. Alas, if anyone ever pitches you such a deal, run don’t walk away. Because the fact is that no matter what a person learns, they are always and forever still growing. Still a work in progress. As much as people like me may hate it, there is no perfect to get to. If it does exist, perfection is like the casserole I made for dinner tonight. A little bit of everything. One big delicious mess.

With cheese.

This being said, I would like to take this blog as an opportunity to “sum up” what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown as a direct result of this project. My idea being that, although I despise numbered lists and bulleted sub-headings, I’ll go through my blog “categories” one by one and write a few sentences or paragraphs about each one. As these categories became self-evident early on and new ones haven’t been added in maybe a year and a half, I’ve come to see them as themes, or what this time in my life has been all about. The lessons I’ve been learning and doing my best to embody.

So here we go. I’m just going to shoot from the hip. And I’ll try to be brief. (Yeah right, Marcus.)

1. Abundance

Ugh. Does this have to be the first one? This has been a toughy for me, since, as a result of my traumas, I grew up believing that if you love something, just wait, it’ll be taken away from you. And yet my therapist, who has a real hard on for abundance, has shoved it down my throat. Yes, things leave, but other things come around. Thankfully, I have made progress. For one thing, money isn’t terrifying to me anymore. Even though I don’t have much of it. Although now I imagine if I did I wouldn’t be scared of it. It’s just paper. The most important thing being, however, that I really do believe deep down that I’ve been given an abundance of talent, love, help, knowledge, wisdom, and resources (both internal and external) with which to make my way through life. Creatively, I’ve been given an abundance of ideas. This is what counts. I know it’s rough when your bank account is strapped, but don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

2. Affirmations

A lot of self-help books are huge on affirmations, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m beautiful, rich, and forgiving.” Or whatever. And whereas I’ve tried this shit more times than I care to admit, it hasn’t been what’s worked for me. Instead, the affirmations that have turned my life around, rather than being forced into me, have come out of me. That’s what this blog has been about. Sweetheart, be patient. I’m here for you. So if you like the idea of affirmations, go for it. But don’t open a book to find them. Open your heart.

3. Archetypes and Personalities

More and more I see the world through the lenses of “we’re all different” and “we’re all the same.” And whereas I don’t subscribe to one particular personality system, it’s helped me to be able to label people with archetypes (diva, drama queen, addict, pimp), since it allows me to get impersonal about their behavior. Or even mine. (Of course I’m worried about my outfit; I’m an artist!) Additionally, the more personality systems I study, the more I realize that every archetype and personality type is not only neutral (although it can be animated positively or negatively), but also necessary. God knows we don’t need everyone to an anal-retentive control freak. But God also knows the world would be a much sloppier place without those of us who are. (Wash your damn hands.)

4. Authenticity

This is a buzz word these days, and one my therapist actually dislikes because it’s so “hip.” To me it equates to being honest, even and especially if that honesty looks like anger, sadness, or confusion. You know, the emotions we hide behind our masks. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be something we can achieve every minute of every day (certain niceties are required in a polite society), but it is something we can strive toward. Being real. Being ourselves. My only other thought about it is that I’ve often been as surprised as anyone else when I’ve been able to be assertive or–here’s another word my therapist hates–vulnerable. Like when I cry in public or admit my faults (which, I agree with my therapist, isn’t being vulnerable, it’s being honest). Meaning we often don’t know what our authentic selves look like until they reveal themselves to us.

5. Balance

Is required and looks different for everyone. How do you know you’re out of balance in any area of your life? Your body will tell you. Learn to listen to its subtle and not-so-subtle messages. Additionally, pay attention to your relationships. If they’re full of drama, contention, or anything but an underlying peace, something is out of whack. Chances are you’ll never be able to hold the center point forever, so just keep your eyes on the middle. The rest will take care of itself.

6. Boundaries

My therapist calls boundaries the Holy Grail of personal growth. And whereas I used to think I had them, I realized I didn’t. Pro tip: if you can’t say no or if you tell the most personal details of your life to complete strangers (or vice versa), you don’t either. So get some. Learn to not only say no, but hell no. Figure out what you’re worth and don’t settle for less. Get in touch with your soul, do whatever it says, and never, under any circumstances, sell it. For one thing, it’s not yours to sell. For another, you’ll always regret it. How do you do these things? By learning to say no, hell no. And don’t worry if you “mess up.” Life will, without a doubt, give you another opportunity to excel. As with all things, having good boundaries is a process.

7. Coco’s Favorites

These blogs are my personal favorites. Many are already tagged as such, but I’ll be adding others as I work my way through reading all my old posts.

8. Creativity

People say they’re not creative, but I’m convinced we all are, even if it’s just in the way we make up a story about how we’re not creative, or what someone did that ruined our lives, or how awful things are (when they’re really not). Of course, creativity is better expressed through writing, dancing, knitting, planting, decorating, or whatever, and I’m certain our souls MUST, somehow, expand themselves through creating. So first stop and notice WHAT you’re creating (dinner, drama, dissent), then think about what you’d LIKE to be creating (an encouraging environment, a business, a hilarious blog). Then CHOOSE something different.

9. Dancing

Is good for a hundred reasons. Do it. Even if you don’t like it, consider that you were made to move. Some way, somehow. Your very heart BEATS. Tune into the rhythm of your life. If you ARE willing to give dancing a try, remember what my mentor Maggie tells her students. “Let dancing love you.” If not dancing, then let something, someone. Please, open your heart.

10. Dream Interpretation

I wish I were a master at this or had some of the experiences the people who write all those books about dreams do. Lucid dreaming, predicting the future, and whatnot. I don’t know, my therapist says I have the “most auspicious dreams,” so maybe it’s just easy to think someone else’s life is better or more fabulous than yours. Regardless, I do believe our subconscious/inner wisdom speaks to us a thousand different ways. Through dreams, synchronicities, hunches, bodily sensations, feelings, emotions, and even thoughts. So it’s whatever floats your boat, whatever you’re willing to listen to. Just know that it’s not all as random as it seems. Know that you can trust yourself. You’re wiser than you realize.

11. Emotions

Are not something you primarily think about. They’re something you primarily feel. Also, I hate to break it to you, they’re not something that go away when you shove them down. Like, they just hang out in the shadows. In your shadow. And whereas I wish I had a surefire way for coaxing them out, I’ve learned they come up when they’re ready. The best thing we can do is to listen. Be curious. Love, or at least make space for, whatever arises. Including frustration, anger, grief, sadness, and anything else that gives you snot bubbles. Because that’s your inner wisdom talking. For example, anger often means “get some damn boundaries.” (See above.)

12. Encouragement

Whatever you’re going through, I promise you’re not alone. Yes, your situation is unique to you and is your cross to bear, but it’s not the first time it’s ever happened. In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “You’re only as sick as you are isolated.” Meaning that a burden is automatically lifted when you stop trying to carry it yourself. So please know that people love you and are rooting for you. Granted, they don’t always know what to say, but I guarantee there are people who would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. People who will cry at your funeral and feel that something important, something they liked, is missing from their lives when you’re gone.

13. Facebook Live

This is where I’ve put the few live videos I’ve done and where I’ve read, out loud, other stories I’ve written. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do at least one more when this is over.

14. Gratitude

Is often something those self-help books try to force. Don’t worry, be happy. Alas, I’ve found that gratitude, like an affirmation, works best when it springs naturally from the heart. A humbling voice, it says, “Sweetheart, you have everything you could ever need and more.” What’s more, I’m convinced this voice is always there, available even when we are most down. It says, “Life sucks, but we’ve been given this breath, and with this breath we will make it to our next. Or make it home.” So again, listen to your heart. (Not your head.)

15. Growing Up

Involves letting go of the need to blame, being your own parent most of the time, taking responsibility for your life and choices, and sucks. But is absolutely necessary. Also, it’s natural. Stop fighting it.

16. Hope

As stated in The Shawshank Redemption, “is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” So please, please, please allow as much room as is humanly or even divinely possible that even your most challenging circumstance can turn around for the better. On a dime if heaven so sees fit. Along these lines, pray for miracles and expect them to show up.

17. Improv Comedy

Is worth trying or at least taking note of. Because, like life, it requires that you think on your feet, play well with others, and not look back. Audiences may not be forgiving, but improv teaches you to be. So what if the show didn’t go well? It’s over. (Everything in your life is over.) Why is this a good thing? Because now we can play another game.

18. Letting Go

Is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. Because we like what we like and we want it last. Our relationships, our stuff, our identities, our stories and judgments about ourselves and others. Our blogs. But nothing lasts. We don’t get to keep a thing. So work on enjoying whatever it is while it’s here, then letting it go. The way the sun sets, the way a storm ceases. With grace.

19. Myths and Fairy Tales

Aren’t just cute little stories. Rather, within them are embedded the mysteries of life, our personalities, and our struggles. Best thing I ever heard on this topic was that your three favorite movies reveal the path your life is on, and I believe this more and more. Recently through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) I realized one of my favorite movie characters (for almost twenty years now) was not only hung up on integrity (like I am) but was also embarrassed by his station in life (like I used to be). The idea being that you’re drawn to these characters and their stories for a reason. Your inner wisdom is nudging you forward, giving you a template for what’s possible. Be willing to take the trip.

20. Patience

Is almost harder than letting go. But is one of the most useful traits you could ever hope to develop. Because although the universe is capable of turning on a dime, it rarely does. What’s more, it rarely does what you want it to, when you want it to. Pro tip: the less you insist on having everything your way, the more patient you’ll be. So, in the words of Nancy Byrd Turner, “learn to labor and to wait.” Give yourself the gift of time. To grow. To heal. Nature does not proceed in leaps, and neither do we.

21. Perspective

If I could give everyone one gift, it would be the gift of perspective, the gift of being able to perceive whatever it is thats bothering you (including yourself) in a different way. Alas, since I can’t, go see a therapist. This is what they get paid for. But seriously, what if you could put on a pair of mystical glasses that allowed you to see everything in your life, even the rotten stuff, as heaven’s gift to you? What if you could turn your viewpoint upside down and really see that there’s nothing in your life by accident and that–if it’s there–it’s there for a reason? To challenge you, to grow you, to change you, and maybe even the world, for the better? What if you could look at the mountain you’re facing and, rather than asking God to remove it, absolutely know you were meant to climb it? And then put your boots on. This is my encouragement. Pick up a book, go to church, or bang your head against the wall, not until your circumstances shift, but until your perspective does. Because that’s when you will.

22. Relationships

Seems to be the medium through which everything happens. The bullshit, the learning, and the healing. So look alive. Like or not, no one is alone. We’re all in this together.

23. Self-Acceptance

Means coming to love yourself warts and all, not putting up such a damn front, and being gentle with yourself and others. It means accepting every part of you–even the ugly, angry, and sad parts. The weird thing? The more you accept yourself exactly as you are, the more you accept others and the world exactly as they are. And vice versa. This is why Jesus said don’t judge. Because that which you hold against someone else, sooner or later, you’ll hold against yourself. But as you accept That Which Is Unacceptable in yourself or another, That Which Is Unacceptable becomes your teacher. All parts come bearing gifts. Hold out your hands.

24. Spiritual Practice

Looks different for everyone but is something I’m convinced we all long for and participate in somehow. Maybe one person does it in the kitchen, the way they lovingly prepare the perfect meal to feed their family. Maybe another does it in a chapel. I grew up as a Christian. Last night I prayed the rosary. Now I don’t know what to call myself. More and more, the labels are unimportant. It’s the experience I’m after, the inner knowing that I’m part of something bigger than myself. The conviction that every time I take a breath, God breathes with me. I’m after what the mystics know, the truth that every life, every rock, and every molecule is both sacred and holy.

25. The Physical Body

This could be an entire series of posts. And has been. Suffice it to say that every experience we have on this planet is granted to us through our physical organism. And whereas my personal temptation has been to ignore my body’s signals (information, guidance, wisdom) or be mad it at for hurting or being sick (not good enough), I’ve learned that it is the master and I am its pupil. I am in its classroom, and I must play by its rules. So more and more I’m learning to love, honor, and take care of my body, this gift I’ve been given. Granted, it’s easy to compare yourself to others and find fault with your body, but then you miss The Mystery. Then you miss the wonder that is you.

26. Therapy and Healing

Is actually a thing. And whereas I could go on and on about different therapies and modalities I’ve tried and succeeded with, really, it all started the day I picked up the phone and called my therapist. One little choice that was really a big choice. “I think I need help,” I said. Thankfully, my therapist was a good fit for me, and her office became a safe place, a sacred place, where I could begin to put myself back together. And whereas I’ve done a lot of work on my own, I think this is a huge part of the process. Having a witness. Not someone that does the work for you, but someone who sees you and believes in you. Maybe more than you do. Someone who is willing to stick with you through it all. Another big part being what my therapist told me that first session. “For this hour we’re going to do two things: sit in truth and not judge ourselves.” So whatever path you choose, I suggest taking these two gems with you. The truth (it will set you free) and non-judgment. I promise, you’ll get further faster if you do.

27. Transformation

Is not only possible, but necessary. Just like a caterpillar can’t stay a caterpillar forever, we as humans can’t stay our old selves forever. Indeed, we’ve been designed to grow, change, transform, evolve. To forget that which is behind and press forward toward the mark. To be burned in the ashes and rise again. To die on the cross and ascend three days (or three years) later. This is written in our stories, and this is written in our cells. So just find a way to accept it. Then get on with the process. Set your foot upon The Path. Entertain the idea that you are more (insert positive adjective here) than you ever thought possible.

28. Travel Writing

Hasn’t been a huge part of my journey or this blog but is still worth mentioning. One lesson from traveling being that, just like that, the universe can take you on a trip, put someone on your path, or put you on someone else’s. Just like that, you can be in a whole new world. With a whole new perspective. JRR Tolkein said, “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or secret gate.” Believe in this magic. Trust that as one journey ends, another is beginning.

29. Writing

Isn’t for everyone, but is for everyone. At least, words are for everyone. Personally, these words, these hundreds of thousands of words, have changed my life. Once a writer friend pointed out that I was literally writing into existence the life I wanted to live. Sweetheart, hang on for one more day. Things will get better. Lately I’ve been hashtagging all my posts #healing. And whereas I’ve thought of these statements and labels as simply my way of hoping or just description, well, in the beginning was the word. Seriously. Think of the world you create when you say something is “possible” versus the world you create when you say something is “impossible.” Notice how your thoughts, feelings, emotions, attitude, and actions change depending on which world you decide to inhabit. Crazy, I know. And that’s just one little word. Now, have the words I’ve written these last three years MADE my life change? I could never prove that. But my life has changed, and surely it’s at least partly due to the fact that at some point I started telling myself a different story. A story I wanted to hear. One of healing, forgiveness, self-acceptance, hope, transformation, and transcendence. A story in which I was the hero and there was a happy ending.

And surely anyone can do this.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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The Stuff Movies Are Made of (Blog #1076)

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Currently it’s 9:30 in the morning. I know. It’s early. I just did this (blogged) less than twelve hours ago. But I have a full day today. In a few hours, I’m going to see my myofascial release wizard. Then I’m going to see my therapist. Then I’m going to see a show and have dinner with a friend. (Going, going, going.) At some point, I need to take a shower. Yeah, that’d be nice. Not necessary, mind you, but nice. Anyway, so I’m blogging now. Part of me has nothing to say. Part of me has everything to say.

This is the way of it.

With the end of the blog, or at least the end of my blogging daily, quickly approaching (three weeks from today I’ll wake up relieved, terrified, and grateful, and it’ll all be over), lately I’ve been (even more) introspective. Although many days I’ve wanted to throw my laptop into the fires of Mordor, this entire project has been such a good thing for me that I often wonder what I’ll do without out. My Inner Perfectionist wants it to be Right, completed by The Last Day. Since this entire project has, at its core, really been a means for me to come, meet, understand, accept, like, and love myself, this means that my Inner Perfectionist wants me to be Right, completed by The Last Day. He wants me to be whole, healed, happy, and healthy (in every way), um, three weeks from now, and to have said everything I have to say about it.

This, of course, is a ludicrous notion.

That guy.

Twenty minutes ago I walked into our “plants and puzzles” room to take today’s selfie and noticed and reflected upon a puzzle I started, I don’t know, a few months ago, a Van Gogh, something I only work on every so often, when the mood strikes. Anyway, I realized that I was getting close to done. Only a handful of rows on the bottom need to be filled in. One or two more concentrated “putting together” sessions, and that’ll be it for that puzzle. It’ll be back in the box or up on the wall, and on to the next mystery. So are the days of our lives. We finish puzzles and projects, books and blogs, but we ourselves are never finished. Until the day we die, we’re a work in progress. On the one hand, there’s nothing to say about it. We are what we are in this moment. On the other hand, there’s everything to say about it. We contain multitudes.

Something I’ve long believed and have experienced lately through EMDR and myofascial release is that our bodies forget nothing. “You may have repressed [ignored] or suppressed [relegated to your unconscious] part of your life, but your body has remembered it all,” my EMDR therapist says. More and more I’m struck by the wonder of this and have started thinking of the individual events and interactions in our lives, especially our dramas and traumas, like play-at-home movies that can’t be fast-forwarded or ejected until they’e completely played out. Meaning that when we repress or suppress a reaction or emotion, we’re not hitting the stop button (there is no stop button). At best, we’re hitting the pause button.

For me, therapy, this blog, EMDR, myofascial release, and a number of other therapies have allowed many of the old movies of my life to finally play out. And be over. This often has involved a cathartic release of emotions (anger, sadness, frustration, disgust, joy), emotions that got (literally) frozen in my cell tissue God knows when. (My body knows when.) Along these lines, myofascial release sometimes refers to this letting go process as “thawing,” especially when the body shakes or tremors.

I used to read about all this stuff, the way our bodies store our emotions and memories in our fascia, and think it sounded real good. Like, isn’t that nice? Alas, having experienced it, I don’t mind saying it’s real gross. Helpful, healing, but gross. All this to say that I wish it weren’t true. Not for me, and not for you. And yet it seems to be the way of it for all of us, the way we were designed to be and function but weren’t told about when we were younger by our families, teachers, preachers, and doctors. (My Inner Conspiracy Theorist added that last part.) Chances are, they didn’t know either.

Yesterday I blogged about how miraculous our bodies are and how more and more I’m learning to trust mine. Caroline Myss says that she doesn’t see so many pounds of flesh when she sees someone’s body. Rather, she sees “an energy system,” a system of power. And whereas as a former medical intuitive Caroline can sense and “just know” where someone is sick or losing power in their body (and why), I can’t. I am, however, really starting to get the concept that, consciously or unconsciously, how each of us organizes our energy system/body in a particular fashion. We put this event on pause. We play that event over and over and over again. We never finish that puzzle. Even though we could.

More and more this is my advice to myself and anyone else: hit the play button on your past and let it finally be over. Unfreeze your body and your life. Finish as many of your puzzles as possible. The inside kind, not the outside kind. Not by running away from yourself, but my running toward yourself. Really, that’s what this blog has given, and what it will continue to give me even after I write The Last Word, a connection to myself and my inner wisdom. It’s given me a knowing that I’ve come equipped with everything I need for this journey. That I don’t have to look out there to find it; it’s all in here. I realize this sounds too good to be true, the stuff movies are made of. And yet it is true, the way of it. You are a wonder.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

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On Creation (Blog #1069)

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This morning I woke up at 4:30 to work backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! in Fort Smith. Until 7:45 this evening. And whereas it was fun and absolutely magical, Daddy is worn the eff out. Seriously, I’ve said many times before that I’m not cut out for manual labor, and even the personality test I took recently agreed. You’re not meant for nine to five work, it said. So it’s good that tomorrow is the last day working the production. That’s the deal. Today they set up and did one show, then tomorrow they’ll do two shows, pack up, and hit the road.

And I’ll hit the hay.

Today they asked that we not take or post any pictures from backstage (that’s called a boundary), but, y’all, the sets, props, and costumes were stunning. Giant flowers, fluffy grass, velvet curtains, feather boas galore. And everything in every color. No kidding, it was like a box of crayons exploded. And whereas I spent most the day with my mouth open feeling like I was in the middle a cartoon (hello, childhood memories!), for many of the the cast and crew (who have been on the road with this show since October), it seemed to be just another day at work. Ho-hum. This reminded me that we can be surrounded by beauty and mystery and totally lose touch with it. We can look at a sunrise or a loved one and think, Oh, yeah, that old thing. I guess it’s all right.

I don’t recommend this.

Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything and say, “What is it?” The idea being that everything–without exception–is a mystery. Sometime try this with your hand. Just hold it out and stare at it, without thinking, It’s a hand or It’s an old, wrinkly hand. Just stare at it and see if you’re not struck with wonder. That it’s alive and that it can move. That it exists.

That you exist.

From what I understand, we lose the wonder of things when we label them. Either as objects or adjectives. That is, as soon as you say, “It’s a hand” or “He’s a jerk,” you move away from The Mystery. Of course, we’re all doing this all the time. We make a million assumptions each and every day about what things are. And yet the truth is–and I know this is mind twister–you only think it’s a hand because someone told you it was. (And what if they were wrong?) You only think he’s a jerk because you told he was. (And what if you were wrong?)

Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, does this mean the person you see in the mirror every day waved a magic wand and made something appear out of nothing? No. At the same time, yes. What I mean is that when you open your eyes every day, the world is there. The Mystery is there. The one in the mirror doesn’t create that. But the one in the mirror does create your experience of the world. By naming it, by labeling it, whatever you want–good or bad, too hot or too cold, terrifying or peaceful, ho-hum or magical.

I suggest magical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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On the Enchanted Life (Blog #1046)

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Yesterday I finished listening to the audio version of Pam Muñoz Ryan’s juvenile fiction novel Echo. My friend Sydnie recommended it (“The audiobook is awesome because it includes the music relevant to each character,” she said), and it’s nothing short of glorious, full of magic and heart. In short, it’s about an enchanted harmonica that mysteriously comes into the the lives of several different characters not only to change their lives for the better, but also to bring them together across time and space. Brimming with hope, the book encourages us that, “Your fate is not yet sealed. Even in the darkest night, a star will shine, a bell will chime, a path will be revealed.”

I’ve been thinking about this today, the way that all is never lost, the way that help always shows up when we most need it. I’ve also been thinking about how so often help doesn’t announce itself. In Echo, each of the main characters is intrigued by the enchanted harmonica but doesn’t realize what power it would bring into their life. Likewise, six years ago when I first arrived at my therapist’s office there wasn’t a sign on her door that said, “Your life is about to be turned upside down.” And yet it was.

I suppose there are two ways of viewing your life. One, as if it’s not enchanted. Two, as if it is. Seeing your life as not enchanted, each day is the same, random. A beautiful person or object comes into your life, and you think, Isn’t that nice? At best, you occasionally use the word coincidence. Seeing your life as enchanted, however, each day is unique, full of possibility and wonder. You think, Nothing or no one comes to me by accident. You use words like synchronicity, fate, destiny, and meant to be.

Of course, I advocate the enchanted life. Not that I can prove this is the way the universe works, but I can certainly prove that believing it works this way is more fun. Last night I rearranged some artwork on my walls and in the process realized that one of my paintings was originally framed this very week in 1968, twelve and a half years before I was even born. Several years ago I lived in a hundred year old house that was an absolute godsend for me, a quiet home after I’d left one of turbulence, a space space where I could heal my broken heart. I completely believe that like the harmonica in Echo, The Big House came to me because, at least for a time, I needed it. Maybe because we needed each other. My point being that how do I know my painting from 1968 hasn’t come to me for the same reason? A drawing of a weeping willow, it continues to remind me to cry, to flow with life rather than stiffen against it, and to remain rooted.

Along these lines, my framed print of Diogenes reminds me to continuously search for truth, Diogenes being famous for his quest to find “one honest man.” And whereas I could go on and on about the search for truth and honesty, here’s what I’ve come to believe, what I think this drawing from 1946 came to teach me. You can spend the rest of your life looking for one honest man, or you can spend the rest of your life trying to be one. That’s the deal. Diogenes wasn’t looking for someone else. He was looking for himself.

He was it.

Years ago my swing dancing friend Robin sent me a framed poster of Lindy Hop legend Frankie Manning that’s signed by several Lindy Hop “gods and goddesses.” Along with it, she included a note reminding me how important I am, both as a person and a member of the dance community. For me, the poster and the note have become one. Regardless of which I look at, I inevitably feel better. Because I think, If even for a moment, I made a difference. If even for a moment, someone noticed. This is the power that one kind act, one thoughtful note can have. Its effect can last for years, a lifetime.

Talk about magic. Talk about enchanting.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Interesting People (Blog #1042)

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Phew. I woke up at six this morning and have been functioning ever since, working backstage for the national tour of the musical Finding Neverland. And whereas for weeks I’ve been fearful that my chronic sinus problems would rear their ugly head (in my head) and make my day miserable, I’ve felt fine. Almost human. Indeed, I’ve helped unload three semis, pushed props around, laid down Marley floor, made beds, and sanitized glasses and haven’t once thought, God, I feel terrible. Rather, except one time while crawling around on my knees, I’ve been grateful for this opportunity. Sure, it’s grunt work, but I love the magic of the theater and seeing how it all works.

Speaking of magic, here’s something. Over a year ago I got to work backstage for ten days for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. Well, this tour of Finding Neverland is being put on by the same production company, so this morning I was greeted by hugs and several familiar faces, friends whose lives and travels I’ve been following on social media. I can’t tell you what a treat this was, to show up to work and be welcomed, to not be a stranger. Of course, we’re all strangers at some point, in some situation. And so we meet each other. We say, “Hi, my name is (insert your name here). What’s your name?”

If we’re lucky, a conversation begins. And talk about magic, a good conversation can take you anywhere.

In my experience with good conversation, the key is to remain curious. Ask a lot of questions. So often we judge people by the clothes they wear or the job they’re currently doing and forget that we’re only seeing a piece of them, not the whole puzzle, the whole mystery. One of the gentlemen I worked with this morning was, by trade, a chef. Indeed, if you live in Fort Smith, you’ve probably eaten one of his recipes, since before he moved away he consulted with many of our local restaurants. Another worker said, “If you’re a chef, what are you doing here?”

“Just making some extra money while I’m visiting my family,” he said.

I don’t know. I think people are fascinating. What’s more, I think they’re willing to tell you almost anything if they sense you really want to listen. One man I just met today told several of us at lunch about his mentor who died many years ago in a freak accident. “It really affected me,” he said. “He taught me everything I know.” Heart wrenching.

Something I’ve been thinking about today is just how much your attitude affects your experience. For example, when you’re sitting with a group of strangers, a fearful or shy attitude will keep you isolated. But a curious attitude, a friendly attitude, will connect you to others, others who are fundamentally the same as you. People with hopes and dreams, griefs and tragedies not unlike yours. People who want to be loved, accepted, and appreciated exactly as they are, just like you do.

This is true no matter what someone looks like, no matter where they’re from.

Getting back to the idea of attitude, at one point today a forklift driver whose sole responsibility was to unstack large boxes over and over again told me he was bored. “It’s just the same thing. Up and down, up and down.” I totally get this. For years I worked as a wedding photographer’s assistant and was constantly surrounded by magic, the most important day of the wedding couple’s life. However, for me it was just another day at work, one more batch of spinach dip. Looking back, I can see that it was my attitude, my perception, that kept me from enjoying the uniqueness of each event. It’s not that the magic wasn’t there. I just couldn’t see it.

There’s an idea that I subscribe to that says that BORING people are BORED and INTERESTING people are INTERESTED. Again, this goes back to how curious you are about other people and your surroundings, what your attitude is. The truth is that, on one hand, every day is the same thing over and over again. We wake up, we go to bed. Up and down, up and down, until we die. So yes, one could get bored pretty easily. On the other hand, every day is new. For example, although I may work backstage at another show, I will never again work backstage with the same people, the same constellation of precious faces I worked with today. Seen from this perspective and with this attitude, each person, each day, and each moment we encounter becomes a gift, a gift worthy of our reverence and interest.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can rewrite our stories if we want to.

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On Time Traveling and Starting Over (Blog #1022)

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Today I’ve been thinking about cycles. I’ll explain. This afternoon I did laundry. You know, put my dirty clothes in the washer, added soap and water, shut the lid, and waited while they went round and round. Then I put them in the dryer, shut the lid, and waited while they went round and round some more. And whereas all my clothes are now clean (except for the ones I’m wearing), next week they’ll be dirty again and I’ll have to start the whole process over once more.

Along these lines, last night for the first time in weeks I went to the gym. Thankfully, I hadn’t lost everything. Indeed, there were stretches and movements that were EASIER for me last night than the last time I went. (I attribute this to the progress I’ve made through upper cervical care.) Regardless, it still felt like starting over. Just like every time I get a sinus infection feels like starting over, and just like every blog I write feels like starting over. Because no matter how many words I’ve written in the last three years (a lot), each post begins with a blank page. My point being–no matter how many times you’ve been there before, every time is new.

This is what I mean by cycles. Our lives go round and round.

Along with thinking about cycles, I’ve also been thinking about circles. Perhaps these are the same thing. Either way, I’ve heard it said that although we think of our lives and time as progressing in straight lines, they aren’t. Rather, they’re circular, cyclical. This makes sense to me because so many things in the universe whirl. The earth rotates around its axis, the planets revolve around the sun, our washers and dryers spin. Likewise, so do our patterns and behaviors. This morning I woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, drank coffee, and read a book. And whereas I’ve never done these things on January 16, 2020, before, I have done these things over and over (and over) again on countless other days. The logical conclusion being that we don’t start here (at a point on a line) and end there (at another point further down the line). Instead, we move in circles.

Effectively, we repeat ourselves.

The book I read today was a glorious juvenile fiction novel, When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. My friend Sydnie recommended it (thanks, Sydnie), and it’s about a boy named Marcus (oddly enough) who travels through time in order to save himself and others. At one point during the book, another character (the one who’s telling the story) is discussing time traveling with Marcus and says, “But THE MIDDLE can’t happen BEFORE THE BEGINNING.”

It can if time’s a circle, I thought. Circles don’t have beginnings, middles, or ends.

Well, sure enough, Marcus compares time to a diamond-encrusted ring, stating that we think TIME is moving but, in truth, WE ARE. Using the ring analogy, he suggests thinking of the fixed diamonds as the moments in our lives. Like, past, present, and future all exist AT ONCE. But since we can only experience or be aware of one moment, well, at a time, we perceive moments occurring separately, one before or after the other, and so on. Thus, as WE MOVE from point to point on the ring, we create in our minds (and only in our minds) the idea of time, the ideas of past and future.

How can you say that past and future are only ideas, Marcus (me Marcus, not book Marcus)?

Because search all you want, and you’ll never be able to find any proof of them. Sure, you can drag out your photo album and tell your stories, but when and where will those pictures and stories actually be happening?

Right here, right now.

I know this is a mind-bender.

Earlier I said that by going in cycles or circles we effectively repeat ourselves. Just now I looked up the origin of the word repeat, and it comes from two Latin words–re, meaning “back,” and petere, meaning “seek.” The idea that comes to my mind being “to go back” or “to seek again.” For me this is one of the nice things about life going round and round instead of in a straight line. It gives us a chance to start over (with a diet, with a workout routine, with a friend) as many times as we need to. Likewise, it gives us a chance to find ourselves, to circle back and save ourselves. Time machines aside, isn’t this what we’re doing when we re-evaluate our past, harmful judgments, when we forgive? Aren’t we rewriting history (and therefore its outcome and present-day effect) when we decide to love instead of hate another or any part of ourselves? Aren’t we starting over–anew?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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 Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.

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Like a Shooting Star (Blog #1018)

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It’s eleven at night and I’m in my favorite chair. I’ve been here most the day, reading. Recently a friend posted that they’d spent their evenings last year re-reading books from their childhood, stating that it was a perfect way to recapture the magic we all too often lose as we grow older. Well, I got inspired. Yesterday I went to the juvenile section of the library and checked out six books. And whereas the ones I got weren’t ones I’d previously read, the fact that I walked out of the library with a lilt in my step convinced me that they were full of magic nonetheless.

As someone who’s hung up on completion, I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to read a kid’s book. Y’all, they’re so SHORT, and the words are SO BIG (the better to delight you with, my dear). You can finish them just like that. This afternoon I completed two whole novels. Well, a collection of short stories and a novel. And whereas the collection of short stories–The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt–was both fun and creatively inspiring, the novel was nothing short of miraculous.

The miraculous book–The Invention of Hugo Cabaret by Brian Selznick–is about an orphaned boy who lives in a Paris train station and, unbeknownst to anyone else, works on and repairs the clocks in the station. Taught by his deceased father and his uncle who’s gone missing, Hugo’s a born engineer, a fixer. And, because he’s able to astound others with his slight of hand and disappearing acts, a magician. Although he’s not immediately aware of this last fact. Anyway, Hugo’s main objective is to fix one of his father’s broken projects, a robot of sorts that, when wound up (like a clock), can write with an ink pen. Convinced the robot’s message will change is life forever, Hugo wonders, What will it say?

Wonder. Magic. Mystery. These are the things that are becoming more and more important to me as I grow older. Not that I don’t enjoy a good fact or “cold, hard news.” But as a long-time cynic, I’m tired of things that make me bitter, that make me want to say, “I told you so” or “I already knew that.” Personally, I think we all are and imagine this is one of the reasons we’re so drawn to stories of wizards and unicorns. Despaired by the reality in our lives, we seek refuge in anything that connects us to our innocence and imagination, those parts of ourselves that are forever young and see the world with wide eyes. Those parts of us which require nothing more than a bendy straw to engage in a sword fight or a blanket to build a fort.

So here’s something weird. Less than a week ago I stayed up late surfing the internet and ended up buying two brooches from the same seller, some lady in Michigan. And whereas I’ve been buying brooches to sell, I bought these just for me. This is a horrible business strategy, I know. But, y’all, they’re just so fun. The first brooch is a wizard with a sword.

The second brooch is of the heavens and depicts the sun, moon, stars, and even a shooting star.

So get this shit.

Although several of the children’s books I checked out yesterday were recommended by an article I read online, The Invention of Hugo Cabaret wasn’t. I just stumbled across it in the “award winning” section and got enchanted (the illustrations are fabulous). Well, just as I got to the end of the book today, guess what I found? An illustration that included one of the main characters wearing–of all things!–a cape with the same design of the “heavens” brooch I bought on it. Complete with one shooting star.

Y’all, I actually put the book down and looked around my room. I thought, What’s going on? What are the CHANCES that I’d buy a brooch with a design on it that matches an illustration in a book I randomly picked up at the library? Am I in the Twilight Zone?

But wait, there’s more.

Remember that wizard brooch I bought? Well, the Hugo book mentions a real-life silent movie called A Trip to the Moon, so after I finished the book I watched the movie on YouTube. And, y’all–no kidding–in the final scene there’s a statue of–a wizard.

Now, I’ve experienced my fair share of strange occurrences and synchronicities. Indeed, the further I go the rabbit hole of self-growth and spirituality, the more they occur. And whereas I think they’re “fun,” I also believe synchronicities carry a message for us, something God, the universe, or our subconscious wants us to know. In one of the last paragraphs of the Hugo book, the character with the cape tells our main character, and these are my words not the author’s, “YOU are a magician, a wizard. YOU are an alchemist, someone who can turn anything into gold.” This is what I’m being reminded of more and more, that each of us has the power to decide what kind of world we want to live in–a world full of cold, hard facts, or a world full of miracles and wonder. Likewise, each of us has the power to go through any rotten circumstance and walk away with only the best of it. This is to say, each of us, like a shooting star, can leave the past behind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

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On the Mysteries of Life (Blog #1017)

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Several years ago I bought a piece of jewelry at a flea market–“I’ll sell it to you half off,” the guy said–and, despite the fact that I need to have part of it repaired, it continues to fascinate me. I could go on about all the reasons why, but the main thing is that front and center, made out of lapis lazuli (my favorite stone), are seven circles in a circle. Y’all, this is a simple design–you can recreate by setting down a single penny then placing six other pennies around it–but I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve Googled this shape, flipped through books about symbols to find it, all in hopes of learning what it has to teach me.

Naturally, the usual things about sevens come up. The are seven days in a week, seven “planets” in ancient astronomy, seven base metals in alchemy, seven major chakras. Beyond that, the design implies the Star of David, one triangle with its base in heaven reaching downward that intersects with one triangle with its base on earth reaching up. Of course, there are many other meanings to The Star, like balance, yin and yang.

Suffice it to say that I haven’t been able to get enough of seven circles inside an eighth. Why, just two days ago I realized that one of my framed brooches included this very layout. I hadn’t even noticed when I bought it or framed it, but now that I see it, it rivets me.

I knew I picked it out for a reason.

Amazed by this “coincidence,” last night I once again took to Google to learn about the seven circles (of jewelry design, not of hell, although that’s ANOTHER seven connection). Well, I stumbled across a book I hadn’t seen before, The Seventh Circle in Bible Prophesy by Wayne L. Atchison (link to PDF file). And whereas I haven’t finished it, I stayed up until four last night reading it. In short, Atchison proposes that although most of the world counts in tens, God counts in sevens. God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh, Joshua marched around the walls of Jericho one time for six days and seven times on the seventh, and so on. Atchison also points out that just like seven is associated worldwide with completion or perfection, eight (or any number after a multiple of seven) is associated with new beginnings. This is why, he says, many feast days in The Bible are on the 15th (after the 14th) or 22nd (after the 21st). Or why Jubilee is in the 50th year (after the 49th, which, incidentally, is seven sets of seven years).

Now, that’s about as far as I’ve gotten. Well, wait. This afternoon I Googled “counting by 7s” and came up with the title of a juvenile fiction book by Holly Goldberg Sloan. So I checked it out from the library. And whereas I don’t know what it will reveal to me, I’m eager to find out. One of my points here being that I don’t think any of this–the flea-market cuff, the half-off guy that sold it to me, the brooch, the books–is coincidental. Rather, I believe there’s a rabbit hole the universe wants me to go down (who knows why?), and this is how it’s leading me there. Can I prove this? Of course not. You can never prove your mysteries. But Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your fascinations,” and that’s what I’m doing.

Who knows where they will take me or what I shall learn along the way?

This afternoon and evening I cleaned house for a client of mine. While dusting and scrubbing I began listening to a book on audio–The Way of the Rose: The Radical Path of the Divine Feminine Hidden in the Rosary by Clark Strand and Perdita Finn. Now, I’m not Catholic and I’m not pushing anything, but, y’all, this book, this story, is beautiful. In short, Strand was a Buddhist monk and spiritual seeker, and then–out of nowhere–he had an encounter with the Virgin Mary. It’s a long story, but she told him, like she apparently tells many of those to whom she appears: “Pray. Pray the rosary.”

Again, I’m not done with this book, but it’s been on my mind, so I’d be disingenuous if I didn’t talk about it, if I at least didn’t mention it. Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Like the seven circles, I don’t think it’s an accident that this book was brought to my attention (on a podcast), especially after a friend of mine gave me a print of the Madonna a year ago and got me a bit obsessed with her statues ever since. And get this shit. Just today as I was one hour into listening to The Way of the Rose, a stranger messaged me and asked if I could frame one of her family heirlooms/brooches. And whereas they had eleven different options, three of them were–roses.

The big thing that caught me about the book today–indeed, it brought me to tears–was the way the authors describe The Love of The Mother, the way she cradles us as we come into this world, the way she holds us as we go out. “I will always be with you,” she says. “You are my child. You will never be alone.” Admittedly, as someone who’s been raised by a patriarchal society and religion, praying to the feminine is foreign. Like, it sounds iffy at best, and I hope it doesn’t make the masculine mad. And yet perhaps this is the point, that all too often we’ve been taught to fear the divine, rather than approaching All That Is as a tender, compassionate, welcoming, and caring force. A motherly force and not just a fatherly one. A force so full of love for us that it would gladly listen to our concerns. That it would gently lead us down The Path into our own mysteries.

Which are, of course, the mysteries of life itself.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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The Results (Blog #998)

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Today is blog #998 in a row, it’s two days before Christmas, and I don’t know where to start. I wish I had something profound to say. The closer I get to 1,000 blogs, the more I feel like I should. This has been a huge project–it’s changed my life–and all I can think to utter is, “Thank you for being here, I’m going to bed now.” Bed–that’s where I wish I were right this minute. Well, okay, fine, I am, but I wish I were asleep. I’ve been fighting a headache for several hours; the last thing I want to do is think and attempt to be pleasant.

Alas, I’ll going to try.

Getting back to the idea of reaching 1,000 blogs, I keep imaging something big should happen when I do. Fireworks, a parade, an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Something. More than likely, the day will come and go without fanfare. In the grand scheme of things, my 1,000th blog will “only” be one of a thousand. Granted, there will be parties, gift-giving, and plenty of celebrating, but these things will be for Jesus, not Marcus Coker. And whereas I’m not above stealing a little limelight, something tells me to let the lord have this one. It is, after all, his birthday, and it’s just one day a year.

Although to be fair, Jesus gets Easter too. The whole Holy Week if we’re being technical.

This afternoon I taught a dance lesson. And whereas the couple’s been progressing slowly, things are starting to come together. This evening I drove all the way to Fort Smith to look for a particular book I’m almost a hundred percent certain I saw at a thrift store last week, but when I got to the store it was closed for the lord’s birthday. (Some people like to drag their celebrations out). Anyway, the project I wanted the book for will simply have to wait. My point being that just like the couple I’m teaching will learn when they learn, I’ll get the book when I get it. Things happen when they happen.

Or they don’t happen at all.

More and more, I’m learning to trust the timing of things. Earlier today I was thinking about some of the most influential people in my life–my mentors–and how I came to meet them. And whereas I won’t go into all the details, suffice it to say that with each person there was a whole series of random events and connections that caused our paths to cross, things I could have never planned. For example, I had to go through hell before I found my therapist through the recommendation of a counselor friend of mine. Once I met my therapist, I thought, I should have done this sooner. And yet had I asked my counselor friend for a recommendation even a year earlier, I’m sure they would have suggested someone else–because they’d only recently met my therapist. Indeed, they originally did recommend someone else, but that person was full. At the time, I was disappointed. What if I’m missing out? I thought.

But then I met my therapist and knew–I’m right where I need to be.

It’s easy for me to look at the significant relationships in my life and think they didn’t happen by accident. But more and more I think little does. When I think of how I met and stayed in touch with my friend who recommended my therapist–wow–we’re talking about relationships that go back over thirty years, relationships that started before I was born (because my parents are–obviously–involved in this whole setup). We’re talking about me having to be in a certain place at a certain time in order to say hello to a family acquaintance I barely knew so that we could become friends and they could introduce me to their friend who eventually recommended my therapist and so on. Plus all the things that had to happen to get my therapist in the same professional circles as my friend.

Seriously, when I think about it, it boggles my mind.

What boggles my mind even more is that this sort of cosmic dancing goes on constantly. This morning I spilled a bottle full of pills and was three minutes late to a doctor’s appointment. Who knows why? Maybe I avoided an accident. Or maybe I just HAD to be part of that conversation my doctor’s secretary started with the few of us in the waiting room about what to get her male relatives for Christmas and that wouldn’t have happened three minutes earlier. I mean, I’ve been the beneficiary of someone else’s recommendation before, so who’s to say someone else can’t benefit from mine? That’s the deal on this planet. Sometimes angels are sent to you; sometimes you’re the angel that’s sent to others.

Now, you might think your two cents can’t make a difference in someone else’s life, but you’d be mistaken. Remember the widow’s mite. Remember the mustard seed. Remember God works in mysterious ways.

When I started this blog nearly 1,000 days ago, I had lots of hopes and dreams for it. I still do. But the difference between then and now is that more and more I’ve given up trying to control the whole damn thing–who reads it, what they get out of it, what they offer me in return. Like, a praise, a criticism. (So far no one’s offered to sleep with me. Kids, go to medical school. Bloggers don’t get laid. Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be writers.) But seriously, it’s precisely BECAUSE of the mysterious intricacies of life–this had to happen and this had to happen, or this couldn’t have happened–that I’ve come to the conclusion that even everyday accidents and encounters–a spilled bottle of pills, the choice to say hello, who reads my blog and what they do with it–are laced with magic and grace.

Even if we don’t see it.

Especially if we don’t see it.

Getting back to the idea that I think something big (the appearance of the Blessed Mother) should happen when I hit 1,000 blog posts, I’d like to be clear that this is purely egoic and runs counter to the traditional story of Christmas. That is, Jesus was born in a manger–with little fanfare. This is how the divine works–not by pulling up in a Mercedes Benz (or on a Mercedes Benz camel) and rolling out the red carpet for itself, but by slipping in the backdoor unnoticed. My point being that we may look at our lives and think nothing is happening. And yet all the while the gods are at work behind the scenes, setting this up, working that out. More perfectly than we ever could. This doesn’t mean we don’t have to play our part, of course. It simply means that the more we listen to our hearts and act from our souls, the less we have to worry about the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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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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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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