A Little Song, a Little Dance, a Little Seltzer Down Your Pants (Blog #899)

This afternoon I went shopping with a friend. The whole point of our getting out was for them to find a jacket. Alas, they couldn’t find one. So they bought a shirt, and I bought three. And a pair of pants. Gosh, living was a lot cheaper when I was in mourning, when I wore the same black shirt every day. (Johnny Cash really knew what he was doing.) That being said, I have no regrets. What’s the saying? Variety is the spice of life.

After shopping, my friend and I went out to dinner, a late birthday celebration. (My birthday was two days ago.) And whereas I won’t go into everything we discussed while shopping and eating (because it doesn’t matter and, more importantly, I don’t remember), I will say we laughed a lot. That’s one of the things I adore about me and this particular friend–we’re always cracking up.

Caroline Myss says, “Think about whether you truly have a sense of humor. [My thought–if you have to think about it, you don’t.] Healing is enhanced with humor, and laughter can lighten almost anything–certainly most day-to-day irritations. Your goal: to bring humor to everything that causes you stress, as this is one of the most empowered responses you can have.”

How does this work? Well, if you don’t have a sense of humor, I’m not sure. But if you do, it’s simply a matter of perspective, how you choose to see something. In terms of “day-to-day irritations,” for example, this morning I was trying to pick up a few items to put in the recycle bin–with one hand. Well, I dropped them everywhere. And whereas my first response was, Fuck!, my second response was laughter. It’s like I could see it happening to someone else in a movie, and all of a sudden it was funny. This morning, because our dog made a mess last night, I used a green rag to clean a section of the carpet of the room I’m currently in and ended up turning the carpet light green. I told Mom about it tonight, and she said, “Don’t worry, that carpet’s shit anyway.”

Perspective.

In terms of major drama/trauma, my therapist says, “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” This, I think, is why minorities (Jews, African Americans, women, gays) often make the best stand-up comedians. They’ve been through hell. What’s left if you go through hell and manage to survive in one piece? A joke. Not that you should laugh about your personal tragedies every minute of every day, but you should at least be able to laugh about them sometimes, with certain people. I can’t tell you the number of times my therapist and I have joked about what most people would consider pretty serious stuff. If someone were listening to us, they might think, Talk about dark humor. But my therapist says some things are just “too much” to deal with head-on all the time.

There’s an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show about the death of Chuckles the Clown. The guys in the newsroom think the whole situation is hilarious. At the funeral one of them says, “We’ll know who the rest of the clowns are when they all jump out of a little hearse.” But Mary doesn’t see the humor. “A man has died,” she says. Finally, in the middle of the memorial, Mary starts giggling. When the priest quotes Chukles’s motto–a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants–Mary bursts out laughing. The guys are confused, but the priest encourages her to laugh. “Chuckles would have wanted you to,” he says. At which point Mary starts sobbing.

To me this scene illustrates the fact that sadness and happiness, tragedy and comedy, are closely related–and there needs to a balance. That is, if there’s something in your life you’ve only ever been sad about, maybe it’s time to find the humor in it. Even if it’s just the humor of saying, “This is my frickin’ life.” Conversely, if there’s something you’ve only ever joked about, maybe it’s time to cry about it. Maybe you’re using your humor not as a way to heal, but as a way to avoid healing, a way to avoid really dealing with something, a way to avoid dealing with yourself.

How do you know the difference?

Personally, I think, What am I running away from? If I’m making jokes in order to not express anger, draw boundaries, or have an uncomfortable conversation, it’s not really helping me heal. If I’m making light of the heavy situations in my life in order to keep from falling apart, and falling apart is really what I need to do, it’s not helping me heal. But if I’m doing The Hard Work and am willing to sit with any and every emotion that comes up, then I’m practicing acceptance. That’s what you want to get to, and humor is one way to do it. After you’ve cried and raged, humor can open a door and let acceptance in. Laughter can help you really let go of the past and embrace your life not only for what it’s been, but also for what it is. “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants” can–finally–transport you back to right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is all right and okay.

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The Grace of Forgiveness (Blog #887)

Something my therapist and I almost never talk about is forgiveness. “I just think it’s a really personal thing,” she says whenever we do talk about it. I agree. I grew up in the church and know all the admonitions–forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors, forgive seventy times seven. And yet in my experience forgiveness has never been something I’ve been able to force myself to do even though it comes highly recommended by our lord and savior Jesus Christ. It’s not like taking out the trash, a task you accomplish even if your heart’s not in it. No, when it comes to forgiveness, you have to mean it.

I’m talking about this now because this morning in my Facebook memories a quote popped up from Caroline Myss: “Identify one piece of unfinished business (this could be a person or a task), then do one thing to bring it to closure. If you find that you’re unable to do so, you’ve identified a major power leak and a serious block to your healing. Your goal: to understand that all experiences either make you bitter or better.”

For me, my unfinished business was, well, a number of people. I’ll explain. Since starting therapy I’ve consciously ended–or at least put on hold–quite a few relationships. Like, enough to seem ridiculous. And whereas I don’t regret any of these choices, I do think in several cases I could have gone about it better. Granted, I only know this in hindsight, since I’ve learned other, better ways of communicating. This being said, there are several people that if I were to run into them, it would be awkward. “Let it be awkward,” my therapist says. Still, these situations, these people, feel like unfinished business to me.

Now, whenever I feel like something needs to be done about a less-than-perfect relationship, my first reaction is to show up on someone’s doorstep and say, “We need to talk.” However, I know what it feels like to KNOW a conversation needs to be had, and I didn’t feel that this morning–about anyone. What I did feel, however, was that for–well, a bunch of folks–I needed to take one small but specific step toward closure. (What step, Marcus?) I’m glad you asked. I needed to pray for them.

Once a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous told me one way to get over resentment was to pray for the person you’re pissed off at–for thirty days. “Keep it simple,” they said. “Pray for their health and happiness and be done with it.”

“Even if I don’t mean it?” I said.

“Even if you don’t mean it.”

The good news is that as I went through “my list” this morning, I did mean it. May you be happy, healthy, and free of suffering, I thought as I imagined each person. Then I added, I release you to the universe. In a few cases, I felt resistance–like, screw them–and I figured this was a good sign that I absolutely needed to keep up the exercise. Occasionally I find myself in mental arguments with people (Fuck you, Nancy!), and this too, I think, is a sign that there’s unfinished business or something to forgive. My AA friend says that neutrality is the goal when it comes to your “enemies.” You don’t have to feel warm and fuzzy about them, but you do need to stop hating them. You need to sop fantasizing about humiliating them on national television.

Or is that just me?

Caroline says this is the deal when we’re unwilling to forgive–we can’t give up our desire for control, our desire for vengeance. It’s why I added the line about releasing the person to the universe. Personally, I’ve come to the point where all those fantasies about evening the score with people are just too heavy to carry. So let the universe deal with the sons of bitches. I’m tired of thinking about them. I have other shit to do.

Another thing Caroline says is that for every person you struggle to forgive, consider that someone else is struggling to forgive you. And also–for everyone you’re in therapy over, consider that someone else is in therapy over you. Ouch, I know. Still, I find comfort in the idea that everyone has their side of the story because it reminds me to not get too married to mine. Whether on purpose or not, I know I’ve caused other people pain. That’s something I tried to remember as I thought of the people in my life that push my buttons–I only know my side of the story. I push people’s buttons too.

Tonight I sprayed a friend’s fence with bleach then washed it off with a hose in order to remove years worth of dirt, grime, and algae. And whereas it was successful, I could do it two more times and there’d still be gunk on the fence. Sometimes I think forgiveness is like this–something that requires more than one pass. There’s an idea that the only reason you need to forgive someone is because you judged them in the first place (think about that), and maybe this is why it can take a long time to forgive. We have to come to a different understanding about what happened. We have to judge differently. These things don’t happen overnight.

Other times I think, You either forgive or you don’t. When I had my estate sale I let go of a lot of physical items. Three years later, they’re still gone. This means I really let them go. I didn’t half let them go. For me, this is the goal of forgiveness–letting go all the way. Not hanging on to resentment even a little. As my friend Randy used to say, “Set it free. Set it free.”

For me, freedom is the goal, and I think forgiveness is one of the best vehicles to get there. Because who suffers when you’re pissed off, angry at, or resentful toward someone else? That’s right, you do. That being said, I used to view forgiveness as a way to get out of having to have difficult conversations or to set boundaries with people. Like, I’ll just forgive them, and then I won’t have to stand up for myself. This doesn’t work. (I repeat, this doesn’t work.) This, I think, is why my therapist doesn’t push forgiveness. In terms of fixing problems in your life and relationships, and these are my words not hers, it’s not a heavy lifter. Yes, it can heal what nothing else can, but if you’re being abused, it’s more important for you to get the hell out of dodge than to be forgiving. Once you’re safe, then you can forgive. This is the grace of forgiveness–it keeps the anger and the angst from continuing. It stops you from abusing you (and others). It ends the past and lets you be free right here, right now. Of course, forgiving someone doesn’t mean you’ll want to go to dinner with them. (If things were really bad, you probably won’t.) It does mean, I’ve had enough suffering. I’m moving on with my life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Damn if good news doesn't travel the slowest.

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On Updating Your Software (Blog #876)

Phew. It’s been a day. This afternoon I ran some errands, fixed a friend’s dishwasher, downloaded some material for an online course I’m taking, and wrote a blog for someone else (for money!). Then this evening I had dinner with my parents and later installed a chandelier for a friend. This last task took forever. Installing chandeliers almost always does. No two jobs are ever the same. Honestly, I think tonight’s job would have gone easier if I knew in the beginning what I knew in the end–that the wire needed to be so long, the chain needed to be so long, and so on. But these are things I could only find out by experimenting. That’s the deal. My inner slave driver gives me shit for not knowing things there’s no way I could know.

Stop that, inner slave driver.

Now it’s two in the morning, and I’m trying to give myself a break by blogging short. I have to be up in several hours to help my dad kick off his birthday (happy birthday, Dad) by going to the donut shop (his favorite place and one I don’t hate). So I’ll get right to the point.

Since I’m not done with the painting job I’ve been working on lately, I could have painted today. But I needed a rest. My body’s been hurting, and my sinuses have been irritated from all the fumes. Plus, I needed time to run around, to do other jobs. This afternoon I actually thought I’d blog early so I could rest more tonight. But then I installed a software update for my laptop, and the entire process took thirty minutes, which didn’t leave me enough time to write. So here I am now. Anyway, it occurred to me during my laptop’s software update that we all need a software update now and then. That is, most of us are running mental and emotional programs we picked up as children. Tonight the friend I hung the chandelier for said he was so insistent on everything being just so (you should see the two of us together) because his parents used to vacuum themselves out of their house so there wouldn’t be any footprints in the carpet.

Think about that!

My point is that here my friend is, decades later, running his life on an old program. This isn’t a judgment; it’s an observation. Plus, I’m the same way. I really gave myself a tough time for not having things all figured out with the chandelier from step one, and this is typical for me–to insist on perfection. This is an impossible standard, of course, and the fact is I could just as easily be patting myself on the back for trying and learning new things. Because no one ever taught me how to hang a chandelier. I just got curious about it one day, and if it were anyone else doing that, I’d think it was pretty cool.

Way to go, me.

Back to the software analogy, I do think that since starting therapy I’ve been updating my mental and emotional patterns. I’m not nearly as tough on myself (or others) as I used to be, and when I am I let things go more quickly. When I mess up, when I’m not perfect, I don’t imagine that the consequences will be the-sky-is-falling awful. As I recently heard–shit happens, and I’m still enough. This is the biggest software update I think we all need, a shift to the idea that no matter what happens–no matter what–we’re enough, we’re enough, we’re enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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Old Patterns Die Hard (Blog #861)

Well crap. After my stomach calmed down yesterday, it revved back up today. This morning I woke up with more energy and thought, Maybe I could work in yard. So, y’all, I actually changed clothes and pulled out the mower. It’s not too hot, I thought, and the yard really NEEDS cutting. Alas, before I could even start the mower, my rumbly tumbly started up instead. Hot-footing it to the bathroom, I thought, Okay, fine. I’ll keep resting.

You win again, body.

Thankfully, things were only dramatic for about thirty minutes. I doubled down on the boring, tummy-friendly foods (bananas, rice, applesauce, and yogurt), and I’ve basically been fine ever since. This afternoon I watched a movie (The Good Shepherd) and a documentary (The Magic Pill, about the benefits of the paleo/ketogenic diet). Then I did a small handyman project in my parents’ kitchen, then this evening I went to Walmart (for more bananas, rice, applesauce, and yogurt). Anyway, fingers crossed, I’m on the mend. Regardless, I’m promising myself that–either way–I’m going to change shirts tomorrow. I’ve been wearing this one for three days!

It’s sexy, I know.

For a while this afternoon I got frustrated because there’s a lot I haven’t gotten DONE this week. For example, mowing my parents’ lawn, as well as two other lawns I’m responsible for. My dad said, “You can’t help it if you’re sick, Marcus,” and yet there’s still this internal pressure to be productive, to be “responsible.” However, the truth is, I am being responsible–to myself. I’m supporting my body. I’m resting. I’m relaxing.

I’m healing.

This evening I heard a story about a woman, a codependent, who got cancer. No shit, her family, whom she had always taken care of, were irritated with her for being sick–because she couldn’t attend to their wants and needs. Dr. Gabor Mate would say this woman’s illness is an example of how the body can say no, meaning that when things are out of balance in our lives, it’s usually our bodies that speak up and ask us to do something about it. Like, Hey, Houston, we have a problem here. STOP TAKING CARE OF EVERYBODY EXCEPT YOURSELF.

At the bare minimum, being sick teaches me to rest. I’m always talking about how I go-go-go and push-push-push, and although I can logically agree that that’s not the best way to live, I keep doing it. Old patterns die hard. But lately I’ve been thinking about slowing down, maybe spending more time in nature, so it’s possible my being laid up for a few days is my body’s way of saying, Yes, please, we could use a break. Additionally, like in the example above, being sick teaches me to put myself first. I’ve been so concerned about mowing these people’s lawns–like, What will they think?–but the truth is I could never mow their lawns again and the world would be okay. I wouldn’t deliberately not fulfill my commitments to someone, but if I couldn’t or they weren’t willing to graciously wait until I feel better, it would all work out.

Grass has been growing since the beginning of time.

For me, one of the most difficult and shocking things about personal growth has been admitting that the world is drastically different than I thought it was. Said another way, it’s been admitting that I was wrong. For example, I’ve spent most my life believing I had to be “nice” and put the needs of others above my own. I’ve thought I couldn’t or shouldn’t speak up or set boundaries. I’ve thought I had to be perfect, had to be productive. As it turns out, all of these beliefs were bullshit. Are bullshit. I’m not telling anyone else what to believe, I’m just saying my life has functioned just fine–better, actually–without these self-made rules.

You have to be willing to change.

Do these beliefs still creep up every now and then? Of course they do. I spent years smoking cigarettes off and on, and they still hold a certain appeal. Old patterns die hard. But just like I can’t rationally say that smoking cigarettes is a GOOD idea, I can’t rationally say that being a people pleaser, a perfectionist, or a workaholic is a GOOD idea either. These patterns may have been useful at one time in my life, but they’re certainly not serving me well now. At least, as my therapist would say, when I use them as my “daily driver.” This is the other thing that’s difficult about personal growth–you have to be willing to adopt new patterns. You have to be willing to look at the evidence that is your life, say, “Sweetheart, this isn’t working for us anymore,” and change.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Stop buying your own bullshit.

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On Rituals (Blog #844)

Today I finished a house sitting gig, so this morning I went through my last-day routine–wash the sheets, clean the dishes, put everything back in its place. Then this afternoon before leaving I took my bags (yes, I have multiple bags) one-by-one to my car, Tom Collins. This is honestly one of the only drags to living temporarily in other people’s houses. There’s a lot of stuff shuffling on the first and last days–bags of clothes, books, an exercise mat and foam roller, groceries. Gosh I’ve got a lot of shit. Fortunately, although it does take a while to load and unload all my stuff, I don’t have to go through TSA with any of it.

Now that would be a real nightmare.

This evening I taught a dance lesson to a new couple, then went to a local bookstore to read. I’d be good with doing this every day–sticking my nose in a psychology book. My current challenge is to not take everything I read so seriously. For example, if a self-help book suggests several exercises to try, I’m working on not seeing them as “required.” My therapist says I’m so hung up on completion. (True, and it’s getting better.) “But you could just choose one or two exercises to do,” she says. “Or not do any of them at all.”

There’s a novel thought.

This evening I picked up Subway for me and my parents, and ended up chatting with the girl who made our salads. I asked about her tattoos, and she told me she got one of them for her best friend who committed suicide. Wow, you never know what’s going on with someone. Also, it’s amazing what people will tell you if you show the slightest bit of interest.

After getting the salads, I ran to Walmart to pick up food for our family dog, Ella. While there I bought a two-dollar hairbrush. Y’all, I don’t think I’ve ever purchased a hairbrush before. Talk about confusing. There were so many options. Anyway, that’s not my point. My point is that since my hair has gotten long I’ve been using an old hairbrush I’ve had since–I don’t know–I was a teenager. Literally, it’s falling apart. And gross. Let’s not forget gross. But here’s the real deal–because I’ve been putting off buying a new one just to save a few bucks, every time I use the old one, I feel poor. Inevitably part of me thinks, This is all I’m worth. So as much as being helpful, the new brush is for me a symbol of I’m worthy of good things.

Things that work.

I’ve used this symbolic approach in a few areas of my life lately. For a while I’ve been losing socks or simply wearing them out. So earlier this week I started fresh–I bought a new pack. Then I went through my old ones and got rid of the ones that were gross or stretched out. At the same time, I threw away a few ratty shirts. What’s the point in keeping them? Again, they just make me feel like I’m–I don’t know–one of the kids in Oliver!

The word that’s been on my mind today is ritual. When I got home from Walmart tonight, I one-by-one unpacked my bags, hung up my clothes, and put everything in its place. While I did this, I threw out a few more things, rearranged my sock drawer. And whereas I’ll be packing things back up for another gig before the week is over, it feels really good now for everything to not be haphazard. As I understand it, this is what rituals (including how you get dressed in the morning and the way you go about eating a meal) do for us–they provide much-needed structure. They ground us.

Tonight my dance couple said they’d already been online looking for shoes. This is another ritual–buying new things when starting habits or hobbies–and it’s something we do intuitively. It’s a conscious, physical act that communicates to our unconscious, I’m serious about this. This would be my suggestion to anyone wanting to make progress in any area of your life–weight loss, writing, decluttering. Turn whatever it is into a ritual. You’ll be more likely to succeed. It’s why I blog every day, usually while I listen to the same music. It’s why I, on a regular basis, sort through my stuff and throw or give away what I no longer like or need. It’s not that I CAN’T hold on to things–there’s nothing inherently wrong with that–but I know that if you hold on to one thing in your life, you’ll hold on to other things in your life as well. So I want my entire system (body, soul, spirit) to get the message–We let go easily. We don’t cling. We’re worthy of new things, things that work.

Recently I told my therapist I’d dreamed I was on a toilet taking a shit. “Really?” she said. “Yeah,” I said, “I have a lot of bathroom dreams like that.”

“THAT’S VERY AUSPICIOUS!” she said.

Her point was just this. What do you do when you go to the bathroom? You get rid of toxicity–waste–that which is no longer useful to you. Shit is what’s left over after your body has garnered all the good it can from your food. So my dreaming about going to the bathroom means the same thing is happening in my unconscious–in my beneath-the-surface thoughts and emotions. That is, I’m getting rid of that which is no longer useful. I’m taking the good from my experiences and ditching the rest. (Bye, Felicia.) So in both my outer and inner worlds, I’m letting go. This isn’t a coincidence, since what’s happening outside usually mirrors what’s happening inside. Not that it’s always easy to see, of course. This is what a ritual helps with. It draws a clear line between two things that aren’t otherwise obviously connected. You let go of old clothes, you let go of old beliefs. You get your room in order, you get your mind in order.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

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Tits Up (Blog #824)

Sometime yesterday I (apparently) found the magic probiotic/kimchi combination to heal my sinus infection. Last night after I blogged, my energy level kicked up, and I couldn’t fall asleep. Oh well, I’ll take being tired over being sick any day. Tired–that’s what I’ve been today, since I got up early to teach a dance lesson. Again, I’m fine with this. It’s nice to be employed. Did you hear that, Universe? I’m grateful for both feeling better and having work to do.

So please let’s keep this up.

Currently it’s one-forty-two in the afternoon, and I’m blogging now because I have a doctor’s appointment shortly and then the short-story writing class I’ve been attending for the last month. Earlier today, after my dance lesson, I went to Kinko’s and printed off a dozen copies of the story I finished yesterday, so everyone in the class can have one to either criticize or praise. Or both. Or remain silent.

I’m preparing myself for all reactions.

During this morning’s dance lesson, the wedding couple I’ve been working with practiced one of their stunts. You know that little moment at the end of Dirty Dancing when Patrick Swayze lifts Jennifer Grey over his head, like, no big deal. Well, it’s been going–um–okay, but today it just wasn’t happening. The groom’s arms were tired. His knees hurt (because another part of the dance requires his spinning on his knees). The bride was nervous. Ugh. It’s a big deal to trust someone else to hold you above their frickin’ head. There’s a part of the lift that requires the girl to push off the guy’s shoulders and immediately go into that “light as a feather” pose, and she kept hanging on.

Girl, I get it.

It’s hard to let go.

Earlier at Kinko’s I forgot to hit the “collate” option, and my pages printed like this–page 1, page 1, page 1–page 2, page 2, page 2. Anyway, I had to sort them myself by hand on an empty counter–page 1, page 2, page 3–page 1, page 2, page 3–and when the manager came over to see if I needed any staples or paper clips, I imagined that he saw the first page of my short story, then I got embarrassed because–What will he think? What will anyone think? Maybe it’s a bit of what I felt like when I started this blog. Here I am world, this is me.

In the Netflix serious The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, the main character is a standup comedian, and her manager–a real dude of a lady–always has the same encouragement for her client before she goes on stage–“Tits up.” This has become “a thing” with me and some of my friends, and I’ve started using it with my dance students, even though they haven’t seen the series. It means–stand up straight, lift your head (don’t look at the ground!), and BE PROUD. In all areas of my life, I’m working on this, on not shrinking or shying away or feeling ashamed, but rather being comfortable and confident in my skin and in my work, however much I weigh, however I happen to feel, and regardless of what others think.

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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Unbound (Blog #821)

Currently it’s almost midnight, and I’m just sitting down to write. Where has the day gone? Of course, I know. Last night I was up until four, so I slept in this morning. This afternoon I drove out-of-town to teach a two-hour dance lesson, and this evening I ran errands and helped my aunt assemble some new lamps she recently bought. Then I came home and surfed the internet to wind down. Now here I am, typing, trying to focus but mostly distracted by the fact that I’m tired and feel a little gross. I hope I’m not coming down with something.

I hope I can stop worrying about it.

For the last several weeks I’ve been attending a short-story writing class taught by my friend Marla. The idea behind the class is that we the students will produce a fully fleshed-out short story (of about 1,500 words) by the end of the class, this coming Tuesday. That’s three days from now. And whereas I’ve STARTED a short story and have about 400 words, I’m at a loss for where to go next. For the last four nights (including tonight), I’ve told myself I’d sit down and work on “that thing,” and yet it hasn’t happened. Instead, life has happened. There have been lawns to mow, lessons to teach, books to read, blogs to write, and interwebs to surf.

Ugh, this has caused a lot of internal tension. I keep thinking I’ve GOT to finish that story, that I’ve GOT to have something to read this Tuesday, and that it’s GOT to be good. Great even. And yet I haven’t made writing–or at least trying to write–that story a priority. Consequently, this has become a reason for me to–metaphorically speaking–kick myself in my own shins. Geez, Marcus, would you stop being so lazy? What’s wrong with you? Way to let everybody down.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Last night I started reading a book by David Spangler called Everyday Miracles: The Inner Art of Manifestation. I’ve read a lot of books along these lines, and, so far, this one is the best. At least it makes the most sense to me. The author says he’s always had difficulties with traditional approaches to manifestation like positive thinking, affirmations, and rote visualization, and that’s been my experience too. Anyway, I’m only about halfway through the book, but one of the things it suggests when you’re wanting something in your life to change is to 1) get in touch with your current essence and 2) get in touch with the essence of that which you desire. For example, because I get a lot of tension headaches, I’d like to manifest a life without tension headaches. (Is that so much to ask?) So when I did the “essence” exercises last night, my current essence felt like “tension,” and my desired essence felt like “freedom.”

As I’ve thought about this today, I’ve realized that more than feeling tension in my head, I feel constriction. Like things are clamped down, not as open as they could be. Also, I’ve realized that I feel constriction in almost every area of my life–in my finances (scarcity), in my body (in my head, neck, shoulders, and hips), and in my relationships (because, until recently, I’ve so often bitten my tongue or hidden who I really am). In this sense, the headaches I experience are a mirror for how I really feel deep down–bound up. This is what it feels like when I’m afraid of being sick or afraid of not producing a short story or anything else in my life, like I’m–um–frozen.

Stuck.

I’m working on this. Physically, I’m doing all that I know how to do–exercising, stretching, myofascial release. In terms of the pressure I put on myself to be healthy or “get shit done,” I’m trying to listen to my body. For example, when I finish blogging, I’m going to bed. Rather than force myself to stay up and try to write or do other work, I’m giving myself a pass. Hell, Marla told me that if I don’t finish my story, “that’s okay.” There you have it, permission from the teacher to not be perfect. Ugh. Trying to be perfect. Again, that feels like constriction. But permission to not be perfect, that feels like freedom. Going easier on myself, that feels like freedom. This is something I’m learning, that freedom, more than anything else, is a state of mind, a place you visit inside yourself where you can let go–let go of all constrictions and self-imposed expectations and be yourself, unbound.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There is a force, a momentum that dances with all of us, sometimes lifting us up in the air, sometimes bringing us back down in a great mystery of starts and stops.

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Let’s Talk about Poop (Blog #819)

This morning I mowed my parents’ lawn, and because the grass was both thick and damp, made an absolute mess of myself. You should have seen my legs. They looked like they belonged to someone of a different nationality. I had my shirt off, and even my back was covered in filth. Afterwards, when I was in the shower, the water slowly washed it all away. For a moment the dirt, mud, and grass swirled around the shower drain then eventually went to live somewhere else, somewhere other than my body.

Last night I redecorated my room because yesterday afternoon I bought a new (to me) statue at an antique store and wanted to display it. As I mentioned in last night’s blog, finding a place to put the statue led to rearranging almost everything on the piece of furniture where the statue now sits. This “moving around” process has continued today. After I mowed the lawn and took a shower, I combed through all of my on-display possessions in an attempt to listen to the voice inside me that was telling me it was time to “purge,” to clean up my room like I’d just cleaned up my body. And whereas when it was all over I’d gathered up a handful of books to donate to a local library, I first had an internal struggle.

My “purge” voice said, “Get rid of that book. You don’t need it. Let someone else enjoy it.”

Then my “hold on” voice said, “But it’s pretty. It has a nice cover. I like it.”

Then my “scarcity” voice said, “What if we NEED it later? What if we never find another book like it? What if there’s NOT ENOUGH?”

Finally, Marcus at the Head of the Table made a decision. “We’re getting rid of that book,” I said. “End of discussion.”

Honestly, I was almost swayed by my “hold on” voice. I’ve let go of a lot over the last few years–most of my worldly possessions and not a few relationships. Haven’t I given up enough already? Can’t I hold on to a book if I want to?

Well, yes and no.

I’ll explain.

Our souls don’t cling to A Thing.

I have a lot of possessions that I like and enjoy but am not “attached” to. This means my butt might pucker a little if someone were to break or steal them, but, by the end of the day, I could gladly part with them. However, there are certain items that part of me clings to, that like Gollum in The Hobbit says, “We needs it.” This is when I absolutely know the best thing to do is buckle down and balls-to-the-wall set it free. Because we’re born into this life with nothing, and we leave with nothing, and I’ll be damned if a book or any other physical possession is going to turn me into a “hanger-on-er.” Our souls arrive free, and they leave free. They don’t cling to A Thing.

Byron Katie says that “letting go is sometimes experienced as sadness,” but that ultimately the sadness you feel isn’t about letting go of any possession (or person), but rather about letting go of your beliefs–the belief that you NEED something (or someone), the belief that you’re more or less because you have it (or them) or not. Yesterday I said that because everything in life is connected, changing one thing means changing everything. This applies to physical, outer-world changes, and especially to non-physical, inner-world changes, or–beliefs. As Katie would say, the letting go of a belief is the letting go of “a whole world.”

So of course you’d be sad.

Last night I went to dinner with my friend Kate and her four-year-old son. We all rode to the restaurant together, and at some point during the ride Kate’s son–out of the blue and unprovoked–said, “Marcus, let’s talk about poop.” Kate and I laughed, and I said, “Okay, let’s talk about poop.” Later I told Kate, “That’s going to be the name of a blog post,” and it’s pretty much been all I’ve been able to think about today, mostly because poop is the perfect metaphor for letting go and getting rid of that which no longer serves you. Sooner or later, you gotta do it. If you don’t, you’re gonna have a problem.

So get this shit. (See what I did there?) Today Kate’s husband, Aaron, posted a meme about that feeling you get when you’re ALMOST HOME but losing the “I gotta go number two” battle. I’ll spare you the visual details, but my initial reaction to his bathroom humor was the same as Aaron’s Mom, who said, “That’s really GROSS.” Well, Aaron, ever the comedian, responded, “The truth is gross, Mom.”

Amen. Truer words were never spoken.

In my adventures in mental health and personal and spiritual growth, the truth is nasty, filthy, a monster, and rarely fun. Like poop, it’s anything but cute. What I mean is that it’s hard as hell to get honest with yourself and others. Since starting this journey, I’ve had more difficult conversations with people I love or have loved than I care to recount. Often these conversations looked like confrontations, confrontations I either started or was on the receiving end of. My therapist says, “Is it fun to have these talks? No. Would I rather talk about something trivial? Yes. But uncomfortable, truthful conversations are the foundation or healthy relationships.”

In my experience, although I wish there were another way, this is accurate. For years, decades, I tried to hold on to my secrets until they were finally too much and I got the courage to tell my therapist, my friends, and family, “Let’s talk about poop. Let’s talk about the shit in our lives.” Again, these hard conversations, as well as letting go and changing, aren’t pleasant, but they’re the only reliable ways I’ve found to produce inner peace, further self-acceptance, and foster true connection with others. This is something Jesus forgot to say directly, that the truth will set you free–you’ll like the results–but you ain’t gonna like the process.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be more discriminating.

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On Working with Your Body (Blog #815)

I spent today with my friends Aaron and Kate. We were originally going to hang out on a river somewhere, but the weather didn’t cooperate. So instead we ended up with several other friends and acquaintances eating pizza and drinking Bloody Marys, and then later eating Mexican food and drinking margaritas. Y’all, this was an all-day affair, and I can’t tell you how currently stuffed I am. Stuffed with bad decisions. Seriously, I just got home thirty minutes ago, and my stomach is still cramping. I keep apologizing to my body. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just got carried away.

I just said I made bad decisions, but the truth is that I needed today. Most days I’m so uptight. Even when I don’t have a schedule, I make one. I make myself read, make myself write. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy these things. I’m no martyr. Still, I push, push, push. But today there wasn’t any pushing, other than carbohydrates and liquids down my throat. Instead, there was just story-telling and laughter. Nothing serious. Everything lighthearted. Just what the doctor ordered.

Well, everything lighthearted–and TUMS.

I’ve mentioned before that my neck and shoulder have bothered me for months. In short, although they’re not awful, they are really tight and sore. I get a lot of headaches. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is, especially since I’ve tried SO MANY THINGS in an attempt to feel better. Alas, healing continues to be a journey. That being said, this morning I woke up with a stiff neck and tried something different. First, I did my best to relax. This is difficult to explain, but my default, even when lying down is often to hold a certain amount of tension. So I tried relaxing–letting go–ten percent, twenty percent. I kept telling myself, Just give in a little. Nothing bad is going to happen.

Next I tried having a conversation with my body. I‘m going to be spending time with friends today and would like to not get a headache. I’d like to just have fun. Would you mind letting go? Could we try that? And whereas the relaxing and the dialoguing (monologuing) weren’t lightening-flash, Hallelujah-chorus moments, I do think they helped. I went all afternoon and most the evening without even thinking about my neck or shoulders. So maybe my body listened. Eight hours without a undue tension. This is a big deal for me. Granted, I have some tension now, but still.

Things could be much worse.

Now it’s nine at night, and I’m feeling better. My insulin has kicked in, and I’m not cramping anymore. Even the tension in my neck I just mentioned has slacked off a bit. The “big lesson” for me today is that my body is a living, breathing, moving, intelligent thing. So often I think of any tension I carry, any problem I have, as this static, solid thing. As if my body were carved out of a piece of stone and were completely unwilling and unable to change. But more and more I’m learning that my body is something softer (and no, that’s not just because I eat pizza), something wiser, something that’s on my side. Something that’s willing to work with me if I’m willing to work with it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Being Under Pressure (Blog #716)

What to say, what to say? Today has been mostly typical. I had eggs for breakfast. I read a book. My dad and I went to work out. I ate a salad for lunch (woo). The salad came from Braum’s. While there, I walked through their grocery section, which was filled with ice cream, milk, cookies, and everything else that’s delicious but makes your ass fatter. Believe it or not, I didn’t buy anything. Later, while munching on the salad, all I could think was that it tasted like a good decision–unremarkable, like cardboard. At least compared to a half-gallon of cookies and creme. But my pants fit, so that’s something.

This evening I went to a local brewery to hear my friend Donny and his band, The Wren Boys, play Irish music for St. Patrick’s Day, which is tomorrow. I’d planned on taking a nap this evening, but when I saw Donny’s group was playing, I decided to get out of the house. They’re always fun, and tonight was no exception. Plus, I ran into two other friends of mine, one of whom joined the band for one of their numbers. She’s apparently learning to play the whistle pipe, which in my opinion sounds like something out of a fairy tale and is absolute magic.

Here’s a video of Donny playing the pipe. Notice how all three of the guys keep time with their feet differently. This fascinates me and is something I’m going to try to remember the next time I think my way of doing something is the right way. There is no right way. There’s only a different way.

After Donny and the guys finished playing, Donny and I chatted in the parking lot. I said the last few months had been challenging because of my knee injury, but that they had also taught me a lot, like how to be more patient and compassionate with myself and others. “As frustrating as the situation has been,” I said, “I’ve grown.” Then Donny said he’d heard lobsters shed their shells, which are inflexible, because they’re uncomfortable. In other words, if they want to grow, they have to let go, and it’s their discomfort that alerts them to this fact. Personally, I hate that life works like this, but this has been my experience a hundred times. Pressure is what causes us to mature. At some point you think, I can’t live like this any longer.

Speaking of pressure, my dad just dropped two glasses on the kitchen floor, and they completely shattered. I was sitting at the kitchen table (where I am now) when it happened, and it was absolutely glorious. It was like watching a snowball hit a wall. Kersplat! The glass flew in every direction, including mine. It really was beautiful. Now it’s past midnight, Dad and I just swept up the broken glass, and he’s running the vacuum cleaner. I’m still at the kitchen table and have a headache. Ugh. It’s difficult to concentrate. I’m not sure where I’m going with this. This is the difficult thing about being under pressure, about growing. Rarely if ever can you see what’s coming next. Consequently, you have to let go of your old shell, your old life, on faith. When what’s familiar to you shatters like glass, you have to trust that you can start from scratch and be okay.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to find a problem, you will.

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