On the Law of the Harvest (Blog #822)

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Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

The above poem is part of A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (a long-named fellow). I memorized it in high school because my English teacher was a Nazi about her students memorizing poems. We’d start every class by reciting them. One line, two lines, one paragraph at a time. Each day or week we’d add on until our entire class had an entire poem memorized. Then it was on to another. Anyway, this particular poem has been on my mind the last few days because I heard someone on a podcast mention it and looked it back up. Sure enough, after just one reading, my mind remembered the whole thing.

Thank you, Mrs. Shipman.

In yesterday’s blog I said I wasn’t feeling great. Well, damn it, I woke up today with a sinus infection. So after breakfast I went hunting for kimchi, since it contains a bacteria (if you’re lucky enough to get a recently-made batch) that’s helped me a number of times in the past . Anyway, we’ll see what happens. If things don’t improve within the next two days, I’ll know I need to go a different route.

Recently I read a book about how to cure, or at least dramatically improve, essential tremors, an inherited condition I, well, inherited and basically amounts to involuntary shaking. My dad’s case is pretty bad–sometimes he can’t hold a cup of coffee–but my case isn’t as severe. Still, I don’t want it to get worse, so I’m trying to learn about its causes and treatments. Back to the book, the author suggests cutting out or drastically cutting back on–coffee, alcohol, liquids stored in plastic containers (like bottled water or milk), and all products containing heavy metals like aluminum (for example, most frying pans, soda cans, and deodorants). And whereas I’ve been thinking about attempting this plan, I haven’t quite been ready to bite the bullet because–in a word–coffee.

Y’all, I gave up coffee after my knee surgery last December for a few months. It wasn’t terrible. I drank a lot of tea. Still, I fundamentally enjoy coffee, so I let it creep back in. By creep I mean that I at first had a couple cups a week, and for the last three months I’ve had–on average–a pot a day. By myself. This, of course, doesn’t help the shaking, nor does it help my sleep patterns. Oh well. I’m not a perfect person.

All this (and I know it’s a lot) to say that when I woke up with a sinus infection today I thought, Let’s give up coffee! Because coffee doesn’t sound good when I’m sick, and if I’m going to go through caffeine withdrawals, I might as well do it when I’m already sick. You know, just suck it up and be one miserable-ass sonofabitch (nothing personal, Mom), which I’m quite sure is what I have been all day today. This afternoon my family had a cookout, and I don’t think I said three words to anybody. Still, this was authentic for me. I felt cranky. I acted cranky. To minimize the fallout, I kept to myself.

After the cookout, I took a nap. That helped. Then I painted a friend’s cabinets for a couple hours, long enough to apply one full coat over the already applied primer. Alas, I’m sure another coat will be needed. Now I’m blogging and doing laundry. Just before I sat down to write, I moved my clothes from the washer to the dryer and hung my shirts to air-dry on hangers. Whenever I don’t feel well (or am going through caffeine withdrawals, or both), I feel generally overwhelmed, so I keep thinking about all the projects I’ve started I haven’t finished–books I’m in the middle of, weight I haven’t lost. I’ve especially been worrying about the short story I started that I’ve yet to complete for the writing class I’m taking and is technically due this Tuesday. Seriously, it may not happen.

Who wants to write when you’re sick?

The line from Longfellow’s poem that’s been stuck in my head is “learn to labor and to wait.” In my experience, the waiting is the hard part. For example, with my sinus infection, there are certain actions I can take, but ultimately I have to give my body time to (hopefully) rebalance itself. With my essential tremors, the lifestyle changes may help, but nothing’s going to happen over night. Like painting cabinets, washing clothes, reading a book, or writing a short story (did I give enough examples?), everything is a process. Poems are memorized one line at a time. And whereas I wish almost everything happened at a faster pace, I’m learning to trust that if one is willing to both labor and wait, the desired results will come. This is the law of the harvest. You reap what you sow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t change what happened, but you can change the story you tell yourself about it.

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The Prep and the Primer (Blog #814)

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This afternoon I helped my friend Kim start painting her kitchen. I say “start painting” because, like nearly every other damn thing in life, it’s going to be a process. (I hate that.) That being said, we made a lot of progress. Before today the entire kitchen–the walls, the baseboards, the molding–was apple green. Now only about half of it is. So even though there’s more to do, it’s clear you can get a lot done in a day.

So why not take a day and do something?

Kim said her least favorite part of painting was the prep work–scrubbing the walls clean, patching any holes. Alas, her husband, Grant, insists on “doing things right.” Personally, I agree with both of them–the prep work needs to be done, and it’s no fun doing it. Likewise, I don’t enjoy putting primer on walls, or, truth be told, the putting first coat of paint on walls. Because things still look sloppy, incomplete. No, for me, the fun part is the last coat of paint, when it all comes together. Then what REALLY thrills me is putting the room back IN ORDER, hanging pictures up and such.

Gay, I know.

The obvious point is that you can’t put pictures up without first doing the prep work, then doing the primer coat (if needed), then doing the first coat, and so on. Again, it’s a process, a process that if not “done right” is gonna be obvious. We’ve all seen rushed painting jobs before and thought, This person cuts corners.

Or is that just me who judges someone’s entire personality by how they paint a room?

Currently I’m house sitting for a friend and am in their living room. The last time I blogged here (in this particular room) was about six months ago. I remember because I’d recently injured my knee and–because my surgeon told me I didn’t need my crutches (because “you don’t need your ACL to walk”)–was re-teaching myself how to walk and negotiate stairs. Talk about things you take for granted. I remember having to lie on the ground to wiggle my pants on and off. Now, like before my accident, I can put my pants on standing up.

Don’t be jealous.

Everything worth having takes time.

This last week I was discussing my knee injury with a friend of mine who is a personal trainer and said that I have a ways to go. For example, it’s still challenging to jump using my injured leg, to use that leg to lower myself down (steps or into a chair), or to put weight on that knee. However, my friend said, “But look how far you’ve come.” Is that a wonderful encouragement or what? So often I get hung up on progress not yet made, on walls not yet painted, instead of focusing on That Which Has Been Accomplished. I want to get to The End, to the hanging pictures part, so the temptation is to half-ass, rush through, or get impatient with The Process. But if five years in therapy and two years of daily blogging have taught me anything, it’s that everything worth having takes time. Also, I’ve learned that the work that really pays off is the work that nobody sees. It’s the prep and the primer. That’s why they call it The Hard Work–because it’s tedious and boring and nobody is going to praise you for doing it (probably not even your mother). But damn if it doesn’t make all the difference.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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The Final Say (Blog #811)

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I’ve spent a large part of the day focusing on a literal pain in my neck that has bothered me for months and is sometimes worse than others. It’s this constant tension that often turns into a pounding headache. Thankfully, if I focus on it and breathe just so, it loosens up. Not completely and not permanently, but some.

Ugh. I wish it would just go away.

I keep hoping for a miracle with my neck, but it’s probably going to take several more days, weeks, months like today, moments when I slow down, breathe, and do my best to relax. That’s what this pain in my neck has been good for. It’s a reminder to be gentle with myself, a reminder that I’ve been through a lot. Most recently there was that car accident two years ago, but there were a few other car accidents before that. When I think of those, it makes sense that my neck is stiff, on high alert. It’s traumatized. I’m traumatized.

This is a sentence I’ve been getting comfortable with lately–I’m traumatized. Not as a badge of honor or like, oh, poor me, but as a simple fact. I’ve read a lot about trauma. Plus, having experienced it in many forms, I can say that often its result is freezing–a petrification, a stiffening of the body. As grandpa used to say, stiff in all the wrong places. Of course, it doesn’t take a car accident or even an emotional trauma to cause one’s body to lock up. It can happen if you spend years hunched over a desk or piano. All this being said, I truly believe that what can be frozen can be thawed out, to follow the metaphor. This is part of my frustration. I really believe that my body can heal, so I get all the more irritated when it doesn’t right this damn minute.

Another opportunity for patience.

One of the things my therapist and I often talk about is how life or the universe seems to test you when you say you want something. For example, after my declaring that I was tired of my ex’s immature bullshit, I was presented with a long string of inappropriate suitors. Because I was used to inappropriate behavior, I was deeply tempted to hang out–and more–with these fellas. Sometimes I actually did. Ultimately, I raised my standards not only in theory, but in practice. My point is that in a way life was saying, “Do you REALLY want something better, or are you going to settle?” Likewise, I’ve turned down a number of shit job opportunities because they either weren’t what I wanted to really do, or because the pay wasn’t enough. There have been times that people have asked me to lower my hourly dance rate. And sure, I could knock off 25 bucks instead of staying home and reading a book, but the truth is I’m worth my full rate–so that’s what it’s gonna take to get me off this couch.

My therapist says that even when she was first starting her practice, she refused to see certain potential clients. Even now she won’t work with couples, for example. Not that she doesn’t know how, but she doesn’t enjoy it. My point is that even though she could–in theory–be making more money, it’s more important for her to make money doing what she enjoys. And because she’s been purposeful about how she wants to spend her time–because she’s “followed her bliss”–she has as much business as she can handle. She says this is what abundance looks like–getting clear about what you want and sticking to your guns until the universe delivers.

Again, it seems the universe tests you when you want something–a better job, better health, better relationships. It puts you through “trials” because it has to know if you can handle that better thing you say you want, if you have integrity. In other words, are you going to compromise your standards?

My therapist says it’s been her observation that the people who are the least happy in their lives and jobs are the people who don’t stand up for themselves, speak their truth, and say what they want. Instead, they bite their tongue and accept whatever comes along. I understand this–I did it for a long time. But more and more it’s my goal to not settle in any area of my life. If this means sitting on my parents’ couch reading a book instead of suffering in some shit job working for some shit employer, then I’ll sit on my parents’ couch and turn pages until the day I die (sorry, Mom and Dad). I’d rather be poor than let my soul shrivel. If it means being alone instead of being with someone who refuses to treat me well, I’ll be alone. I like my own company just fine.

In the Bible there’s the story of a rich man whom Jesus told, “If you want to join me and my band of merry men, you’re first going to have to get yourself a pair of tights and then sell all your shit and give it to the poor.” (I’m paraphrasing and mixing fairy tales, of course.) One interpretation of this story is that it’s not so much about the man’s literal riches, but his mental riches. In other words, if you want what the Christ-mind offers, you’ve gotta divest your mind of all its previous notions and ideas about, well, everything. Because you can’t put new wine (new thoughts) in an old wineskin (old mind). In other words, if you want salvation, you’ve gotta start fresh.

Behold, all things are becoming new.

Along these lines (I think), Caroline Myss asks the question, “Is there anything you wouldn’t do to heal?” What if healing required leaving a toxic relationship, moving across the country, or quitting your job–would you do these things? Asked another way, is there anything you wouldn’t do for salvation? Because in my experience it’s not free. Indeed, when it comes to salvation (personal growth, individuation, peace of mind), life asks for everything you treasure–your lovers, your possessions, your friends. This is the story of Job. Give it up. Nothing belongs to you anyway. If it comes back to you, fine, but at least by that point–hopefully–you will have gotten clear about the fact that nothing external really matters. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. It’s always and forever, without exception, your soul that has the final say.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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Patience Takes Practice (Blog #795)

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This morning before I’d even really woken up, my dad said, “I hate to say this before you’ve had your coffee, but do you think you could mow the lawn today?” Well, he was right. Decaffeinated, I wasn’t in the mood to think about anything, much less work.” However, for whatever reason, I was determined to have a good day, so I said, “Sure, I can do that after I eat breakfast.” The problem, however, was that as I worked, it got cloudier and cloudier. It actually started raining while I was mowing the backyard. Still, I kept going. Then, about the time I was, I don’t know, about eighty percent done, the bottom fell out.

As my family says, it pissed and poured.

Forced to quit in the middle of a project, I was faced with a choice–get upset (that I didn’t finish) or accept life as it was in that moment. I chose option two. Indeed, I went a step further. I continued to work–and play–in the rain (closing the gate, moving flower pots, etc.). I actually sat down in the street in the rushing water to wash my legs off. I can’t tell you how much fun it was, the water lapping all over my body. Later Dad told Mom, “I wish you could have seen your son. He was SPLASHING water all over himself like a little kid.”

Of course, part of me is bothered that the lawn isn’t mowed, that things aren’t completed. But in the midst of the downpour, I thought, I’ve worked really hard over the years to get the patience that I have, so I might as well use it. Said another way, patience is a skill that I’ve developed. It’s a tool in my toolbox. So whereas my default is to get at least slightly worked up when things don’t go my way (or at most panic and cuss like a sailor), I know that I don’t HAVE to get worked up. Instead, as all those damn memes on the internet say, I can remain calm–and exercise patience.

This evening I worked at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house reinstalling the door hardware that I’ve been cleaning (shining) these last couple weeks. This involved hanging doors on hinges, and THIS involved exercising more patience because things never fit the same when you put them back on as they do when you take them off. There’s all this adjusting to do. Sometimes the doorknobs won’t turn. More adjusting. Anyway, what I thought would be two-hour project turned into a six-hour one. How do you work in a house with over twenty doors? One door at at time. If you’re not in a hurry, there’s not a problem.

My mantra for today has been, Everything that’s happens today is what’s supposed to happen. Therefore, I’m not going to get upset. If something is THAT BAD, I’ll be upset about it tomorrow. So when a door wouldn’t shut, I’d just try again. When my mechanic discovered that I needed a new alternator, I thought, These things happen. When I got the bill later, I thought, I’m grateful to have a working vehicle, and at least I’ve been employed lately.

Now that the day is over, it’s possible that some of my–um–ignored frustrations have added up and are getting under my skin. As I’m writing, I’m ready to be done, ready to be in bed, and I’m finding myself irritated. Granted, it’s two in the morning, and–I think–my body is mostly asking for a break. Plus, I think it’s “normal” to get upset when things don’t go your way, when things take longer or cost more than you think they’re going to. That being said, I think it behooves us to TRY to manage our chosen responses. I say chosen responses rather than knee-jerk-reactions, since I imagine a part of us will always think, Shit, whenever we’re slapped with a mechanic’s bill. But that doesn’t mean we have to play Isn’t It Awful? for hours after our initial disappointment.

For me, patience takes practice and is a practice. When I hear people say, “I’m not very patient,” I think, That’s because you haven’t worked at it. That’s because–every day for decades–you’ve practiced something else–getting upset, for example, when things don’t go your way. (I include myself in this statement.) Because you’re gonna respond TO LIFE one way or the other–with agitation and frustration or with patience and grace. So again, we’re back to choices, back to what we choose to practice.

Personally, if I were giving myself a grade for patience today, I’d give me a solid B, maybe a B-. I’m okay with this. I don’t have to get an A+ for patience. I don’t have to be “perfect.” As a friend recently said, “Perfection takes a lot of work.” And just as I don’t have to be perfect at patience, I don’t have to mow the entire lawn in one day or hang every door in one evening. In terms of my emotions, it’s enough to do better than knee-jerk. It terms of working, it’s enough to do better than not mowing the lawn or not hanging any doors at all.

It’s enough to make progress.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is progressing as it should.

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On Being In Process (Blog #775)

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This morning I went to therapy. When talking about something in her personal life she’s working on, my therapist said, “I can see it’s going to be a process. I’m just so impatient.” So this is a universal experience, wanting things to happen faster than they do. At least me and my therapist feel this way. Still, I’m learning to trust life’s pace. Recently I’ve been learning things about thoughts, emotions, and the physical body and have thought, It sure would have been nice to have known this twenty years ago! But would it have? I can’t say with any assurance that I would have even been ready for the knowledge (or experience) then.

Lately I’ve written a lot about Internal Family Systems, a psychological/spiritual perspective that proposes that our minds aren’t unified, but rather “multiple.” The idea is that we have many sub-personalities instead of one big one. This explains why one “part” of you, say, wants to eat cake and another “part” of you wants to go to the gym. Anyway, I’ve been all about this theory and listened to an audio program about it today. But apparently–I’d forgotten–I first read about Internal Family Systems several years ago in a book about trauma (which is excellent) called The Body Keeps the Score. Then I just skimmed over it, yet now I’m blabbing about it on the internet. All I can say is that I must not have been ready then. Now I am.

In other words, it wasn’t time.

I don’t know why things happen when they do. I mean, that’s a big question people have been asking for centuries, and I don’t intend to solve it tonight. That being said, earlier this evening I taught a dance lesson to a couple who’s about to be married (to each other), and I know that as a teacher I go in a particular order for a particular reason. There’s a saying that when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and it’s basically the same in dance. When the student is ready, the step will be taught. Anyway, I can only assume that God, life, or the universe educates all of us in the same manner. That is, when it’s time, it’s time.

Why? Because it’s time.

This afternoon I met with my physical therapist and was given a number of new exercises to rehab my left knee, which I had surgery on over four months ago. One of the exercises was jumping on one leg (the one I had surgery on). Y’all, this was anything but pretty. You think you know how to hop. Like, in your mind it goes well. But in your physical body, not so much. My therapist said, “Right now you can barely jump over a sheet of paper.” But then he added, “Don’t worry. It will get better.” Later when I was trying to balance on one leg (the one I had surgery on) and bend over at the same time, it was the same deal. I was shaky, unstable. My foot cramped. Still, my therapist seemed unconcerned. “Don’t worry. It will get better.”

My surgeon has said that it will take a full year to get my strength back. Until then, maybe even after, it’s just going to be a challenge–to stand one one leg, to hop, to go down stairs. Once again, we’re back to things being a process. We’re back to being patient. One (dance) step at a time. This afternoon I had a few spare hours, and The Learner in me really wanted to read. But the rest of me was physically exhausted, so I took a nap. You do what you have to do. They’ll be time for learning later. Or I guess you could say that I did learn something–how to rest and better take care of myself.

Besides, you can’t do everything in one day.

Recently I read that everything in the universe is moving. Even solid objects, though they appear stable, are made up of vibrating atoms. Even if this weren’t the case with, say, your coffee table, it’s still hurtling through space at a (literally) astronomical speed. The point is that nothing in life stands still. Everything has been, is, and forever will be “in process.” Sure, one day I’ll be able to say that I can hop on one leg, but then there will be some other goal to focus on, some other thing I’d like to do with my new, fan-dangled knee. One day I’ll be able to say I’m “done” with the book I’m currently reading, but then there will be another book and another. And even with books I’ve “finished,” the ideas in them will still be with me, most likely growing and changing into other ideas. One thing leads to the next. Nothing is ever truly done.

Patience, it seems, is accepting this fact, accepting life as it is right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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On a Super Great Day (Blog #766)

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Today has been super great. Super great, I say. This afternoon I had a dance lesson with the couple I worked with yesterday. Things are coming together. Slowly, but they’re coming together. What more can you ask for? Today my client (the guy) said, “If I’m going to put my money into this, I’m going to take it seriously. That means I’m going to practice, and I’m going to come back for more lessons.” Oh my god, talk about a dream client. I said, “I wish all my students had this attitude.” Unfortunately, so many people just dabble.

After my lesson, I came back to where I’m house sitting, changed clothes, then went to the gym. The good news is that I can definitely see improvement in the strength of my knee. The bad news is that I apparently re-irritated my ankle last night while going up and down my friend’s stairs a hundred times. So I didn’t do any jumping today. I told myself, “Don’t push, Marcus. Let your body heal. They’ll be plenty of time for jumping later.”

I left the gym early to help my aunt–her freezer in her garage apparently quick working, and everything in it had gone bad. Y’all, her entire garage smelled awful. Worse than my arm pits. But we got everything thrown away and cleaned up, so that’s good.

This evening my friends Justin and Ashley came to where I’m house sitting, and we spent several hours on my friend’s porch, chatting, enjoying the weather, listening to music. My friend has a sound system with speakers outside, so I just hit play on the CD changer before Justin and Ashley came over. And whereas I didn’t know what to expect, I’ve ended up enjoying over five hours of surprise music–Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, John Mayer, you name it. Now it’s midnight, and Justin and Ashley have left, but I’m still outside, sitting on the porch swing, grooving, hoping the night will never end.

A few hours ago, after a couple of beers, I got hungry, so I put a pizza in the oven. (Justin and Ashley had already eaten.) And whereas I’m not normally fabulous at cooking, this project turned out well. (I didn’t put the round piece of cardboard in the oven like I did last time. You live, you learn.) But when it came time to take the pizza out and start eating it, I couldn’t find a pizza cutter. So I tried to slice the damn thing with a knife. Have you ever tried to do this? Talk about bullshit. It doesn’t work. You might as well try to push a wet noodle. Maybe it was because I was half-drunk, but I just couldn’t figure it out. Finally I got frustrated and ended up using my hands and tearing the pizza in half. Then I folded that in half and ate it like a sandwich. (It was delicious.) I felt like a Neanderthal.

Justin said I was being resourceful.

He should go into politics. He always knows how to spin something.

There are a few things I do every day, er, almost every day–blog, read, meditate (or otherwise concentrate on relaxing/healing). With the exception of writing now, I haven’t done any of this today. Part of me is thinking that I need to, as if the world is going to stop spinning if I don’t read ten pages in my latest self-help book and answer four questions at the end of the chapter. Clearly that’s not true. The world is not going to stop spinning, least of all because of something I do or don’t do. So, believe it or not, I’m giving myself permission to finish this blog and call it a day without completing all of my routines. Rather, I plan to stay here on this porch and listen to the crickets, the Bel Airs, and the occasional train that passes nearby. I’m going to finish my beer. Then I’m going to crawl in bed, pass out, and (hopefully) wake up ready for the week ahead.

Draw your own profound conclusions.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You really do belong here.

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Step, Together, Step, Together (Blog #765)

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It’s midnight, and Daddy is worn out. For four-and-a-half hours this evening I worked at a friend’s house moving boxes of all shapes and sizes from one room to another–because the first room is about to be painted. And whereas moving boxes wasn’t terribly awful, it was challenging because the first room was upstairs and the second room was downstairs–and my friend doesn’t have an elevator. This means me and my bum knee had to work, work, work. Not so much going upstairs–that part I’m getting pretty good at. But going downstairs I still have to walk like a flower girl in a wedding ceremony–step, together, step, together.

This. Takes. Forever.

I kept telling myself this taking-forever was good, that it was causing me to slow down and not rush, rush, rush. And yet the part of me that REALLY wanted to be done (just because it likes being done) kept pushing. And sure, we got it done. That room is empty, ready to be painted. But my hips and shoulders (a yoga friend of mine used to call them “ships and holders”) are anything but thrilled. That is, they hurt.

But don’t worry about me. I’m drinking a beer.

This afternoon I had a dance lesson with a couple who’s getting married. They’re working on a routine for their wedding, and like my box-moving project tonight was, it’s slow going. (And God have we got a long way to go.) Now, granted, today was only their second lesson. If you saw what they knew before they started (uh, nothing) and saw what they know now, it would be clear–they’re headed in the right direction. Will they get “there”? I don’t know. I’ve had plenty of couples drop out over the years. But this couple seems determined, and when someone is determined, watch out.

When someone is determined AND practices, well, watch out even more.

Lately I’ve been reading a book called Trauma and the Unbound Body by Judith Blackstone. I’ve mentioned some of Blackstone’s theories before, like the idea that our bodies will often constrict (or tense up) in response to trauma or stress. Last night I read that when we feel tension in our bodies, it can feel like it’s been done to us, but that ultimately we’re the ones that have done it to ourselves. When I first read this statement, I bristled because I’m tight all over, and who wants to take responsibility for that? But the idea is that our bodies tense up in order to protect us from a perceived threat. They’re trying to help. And here’s the good news–if WE initiated the tension in our bodies, we can initiate the release of tension in our bodies.

Several schools of thought, including Blackstone’s, call this release “unwinding.”

Just last night I got to the exercise in Blackstone’s book about unwinding. All the previous exercises have been, for lack of a better way to describe them, about entering a meditative state. Better said, they’ve been about fully entering your own body and centering yourself, the thought being that before you go about releasing tension in your body, tension that’s probably tied to a lot of emotion (because traumatic events are emotional), you need to be steady and you need to be able to “hold space” for whatever comes up.

All this being said, last night I worked with the exercise to release tension, and it actually worked. Like, not all at once or everywhere at once, but a little bit here, a little bit there, in pieces. The book said it would be like this, slow. Mostly I concentrated on my neck and right shoulder, which has been giving me fits for months now. And whereas I didn’t have a huge emotional response, I did have a lot of memories come up from when I was a child–falling off a four-wheeler, getting hit by a baseball in my face, even being spanked. These instances when I would have obviously braced myself gave me a lot of compassion for WHY my body might still carry tension in it.

I can really identify with the idea of bracing. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even tonight while I was moving boxes and noticing my hips and shoulders were starting to tighten, my natural tendency was to push through. To toughen up. To grit and get the job done. But I’m not a machine, and I can’t continue to treat my body like one. Indeed, since I’ve gotten home this evening, I’ve gone back to the exercise I learned last night (which includes intently focusing on your pain or tension), and it’s clear to me that my body is very much alive and full of wisdom (because it response to both stress and the invitation to relax).

When learning something new like this, I always want immediate results. But healing, usually, takes times. Tonight I thought, If my body relaxes just three percent, that’s three percent! So, like my dance students, it’s just a matter of being determined and practicing. Sticking with something that works for you. Going as slow as you need to. Step, together, step together. Trusting that one step at at time is enough to get you to where you want to be.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Beating yourself up is a far cry from self-respect."

Unfolding (Blog #762)

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It’s ten-thirty at night, and I’m house sitting for a friend, a different one than I house sat for last weekend. I spent the day at home–Mom and Dad’s–and have been here (where I’m house sitting) for several hours now. It’s the cutest place, this old house with low ceilings and kitchen sinks. Earlier I stood up out of the recliner in the living room and almost hit my head on the ceiling fan. I thought, Holy crap, I’ve grown! All that stretching must be paying off. But then I remembered it was just a matter of “everything’s relative.”

The little-ness of the house really makes it feel cozy, comfortable, and safe, like a cocoon. My therapist and I talked recently about how my room at my parents’ was basically the same thing, a protected place for me to grow, to transform. That’s how this house feels, like a little getaway right in the middle of town, a place where I can hang out with my friends’ animals, sit on their porch and sip coffee, and read.

Reading. That’s what I’ve been doing all day, all damn day. This afternoon I finished a book I started last night about the world between 1650 and 1720, when pirates, or buccaneers, sailed the seas, and how a large number of pirates were homosexuals, either because they were born that way or because there aren’t a lot of other options when you’re stuck on a ship for years at a time. This is something I never learned from Disney’s The Pirates of the Caribbean, the fact that they didn’t call it the Jolly Roger for nothing.

After finishing that book, I started another one this evening–about alchemy and how it relates to personal/spiritual transformation. This is an off-and-on fascination for me, the idea that we can change the lead in our lives into gold. I just like the metaphor. It resonates with me. Anyway, I read tonight until I got to the point in the book that included visualization/meditation exercises that are meant to be built upon–like you do one one day, then another the next. And whereas I’m excited to learn and try new things (and it never hurts to slow down, close your eyes, and breathe), I wish I could just read the damn book and be done with it.

Technically, I could. I realize that not every suggested exercise in a book is a “required” exercise. But I do like trying them. I mean, there’s a part of me that, believe it or not, would be content to just read, read, read all the time and learn, learn, learn. But learning isn’t just head-stuff. At some point, if it’s gonna make a difference, it’s gotta be embodied. Take dance for example, it isn’t just something you talk about, although you can. It’s something you DO. In my experience, it’s the same with personal growth. You have to live it. Hell, if all it took to be mentally and emotionally healthy was to post a meme about it, the world would already be a better place.

Unfortunately, growth takes more than just talking about it. As my therapist recently said, “It takes more than buying a Brene Brown book.” Personally, despite the fact that I love to read about personal growth, the only reason it’s more than a concept for me is because I’ve matched my reading with actions. Over the years this has looked like anything from a number of different meditation practices to having tough conversations, setting boundaries, and even ending relationships. And crying. I’ve cried a lot. Tonight it looked like a visualization exercise, an exercise I’m probably going to have to try a few times before I decide whether or not it’s doing any “good.”

This is my main gripe with books or teachers that give you exercises to do–if you do all of them every day, it eats up a lot of damn time. For example, for three months after knee surgery I not only did my rehab exercises every day, but also a form of meditation and writing for this blog. But recently I dropped the form of meditation in favor of other things (including going to bed) because it was just too much. That’s the pressure I’d like to take off, the idea that you have to do everything you start for the rest of your life. My inner student gets so excited about learning and thinks it has to do things “perfectly.” But that’s ridiculous–there’s no such thing as perfection. Plus, learning it should be fun, not burdensome.

I repeat–learning should be fun, not burdensome.

And another thing–I’ve already read more and learned more than some people ever have or will (a gay pirate, for example). So again, “everything’s relative.”

Earlier I took a break from reading to eat dinner and starts tonight’s blog. While I was in the kitchen, I let my friend’s cat in from outside, and he’s* been basically glued to me every since. I swear, he lay on the kitchen table eyeing me eat like he’d never seen a taquito before. As I’ve been writing, he’s been in and out of my lap. Y’all, it is so hard to type with a feline sprawled across you. That being said, his purring and stillness remind me to slow down, to not rush, to let all things, including myself, unfold in their own time.

[*I honestly have no idea whether my friend’s cat is a boy or a girl. It’s so hard to tell these days.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."

On Rising Again (Blog #749)

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Last night I dreamed that I was at a funeral, sopping wet. I’d just gone for a dip in a lake. Anyway, the funeral was upstairs, and every now and then I’d go downstairs, to a concrete, bunker-like basement where my therapist was. My intent was to change there. Since my therapist had marked one room as just hers (it had her name on it), I used the other rooms. Once while I was in the basement, I did some writing. Another time I recharged my laptop. Then I yelled at my therapist’s secretary, who was offended that I didn’t want to sleep with her.

Come on, lady, I’m gay.

This afternoon I went to the library to sync my laptop files with my online files. I can do this at home with my hotspot, but it eats up my phone data and takes forever. But since the internet at the library is super fast, I can get it done there in a jiffy. Which I did. This satisfied my inner perfectionist, who likes all my files arranged just so, safe and secure.

Later, at home, I combed through some of the digital (mostly non-fiction) books I have on my laptop and got overwhelmed because there are so many I haven’t read. It felt like I needed to read them all, like, yesterday. Finally I thought, Fuck reading, closed my laptop, and went to the gym. There I processed my need to be constantly reading and learning and was able to find compassion for that part of me that thinks it isn’t enough, doesn’t know enough. (I also did a funny-looking exercise for my neck that involved holding an inflated ball against the wall with my head. See above photo.) Then I talked to the part of me that always pushing me to learn–my inner student–and asked it to back off. “I love learning,” I said, “but you’ve become a slave driver. Give us a break, will ya?” It said it would.

We’ll see what happens.

My “not enough” part said sometimes it’d rather put together a puzzle than read a book, so when I got home from the gym, that’s what I did. Well, after dinner. But here’s a picture of my puzzle progress. Personally, I think it’s coming along nicely.

Now it’s after midnight, and I’m doing laundry. I need to keep this short because I didn’t get much sleep last night–I was up until six in the morning (because of the full moon?)–and I’m tired. Plus, I have to get up early tomorrow. Yuck. I’m not looking forward to it. Oh well, Jesus had to get up early on Easter weekend, so if it was good enough for him, it might as well be good enough for me. At the very least, I probably shouldn’t bitch about it, especially considering the fact that tomorrow I’ll be rising out of a waterbed and not a grave.

But I digress.

In terms of last night’s dream, I think it’s a reminder about balance. I’ll explain. Personally, I associate funerals–at least historically–as a place where I can emote. That is, for the longest time they were one of the few places I could cry. (Now I can cry anywhere.) So I think they represent that part of my life where I’m now paying the back taxes my therapist says I owe with respect to grieving. And all the better that I was sopping wet in the dream, since water represents the unconscious. Like, things are coming up.

As for the fact that I was going down to the bunker-like basement to write and recharge, I think this represents my need to rest (and that this is a safe and secure time in my life for me to do so). A part of me would love to emote all at once and get it over with–just like part of me would like to be reading or learning all the damn time–but another part knows I need to slow down and re-juice my batteries. Balance. And whereas I haven’t quite figured out the door my therapist marked as hers, I’m guessing it has something to do with healthy boundaries. Or perhaps that there’s a part of my subconscious (my basement) that I’m not yet ready to go into and “change.”

Patience, my dear.

Lastly, there was the secretary who wanted to sleep with me. The one I yelled at. This probably just represents real life. Not that my therapist’s secretary wants to sleep with me (besides, it wasn’t my therapist’s real secretary in the dream), but over the years there have been A NUMBER of ladies who’ve wanted more from me than I could give them. Because I’m gay. Like, not just a little bit, but a lot. Like, it’s never changing. Even though one of my former students told me (and my boyfriend at the time) that she though it was a phase. Ugh. Maybe if I’d yelled at her, I wouldn’t be yelling at figments of my imagination now in my sleep.

That’s what I know now that I didn’t know then. That student’s behavior was inappropriate. This afternoon I listened to a talk about micro-aggressions, which are “little things” that people do to cut you down. This can be anything–passive aggressive comments, looking at you judgmentally, dismissing your opinion, interrupting you, or entering your personal space without permission. Anyway, the idea is that normally micro-aggressions are unconscious, both to the aggressor and the aggressee. That’s why the aggressee only thinks about it later. Wait a damn minute, that was rude, that hurt. So, as always, life is about learning as we go. It’s about thinking, Yes, I’m coming along nicely. Emoting a little, resting a little. Getting it wrong one day, then trying over the next. Not being enough or having a voice for years, then gradually finding your Self. Rising–again and again and again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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On Measured Effort (Blog #710)

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Last night, thanks to the time change, I got five hours of sleep instead of six. Color me not impressed. My body’s been off all day. Currently it’s ten in the evening, and I’ve been ready to go back to bed for twelve hours. Fingers crossed I’ll be asleep by midnight.

One can hope.

This morning I woke up early to teach a swing dance workshop in Fayetteville. It went well. God bless everyone who got out of bed to attend and listen to me say, “one more time” over and over again. One more time, I’ve probably said that more times that I can count. That and, “five, six, seven, eight.” Today a student, making reference to a basic step we covered in class, said, “I already know that.” I remember thinking something similar when I was a new dancer; I wanted to learn the cool shit. But the older I get, the more I find myself going back to the basics–taking clean steps, being on the beat, doing the same thing over and over again.

I say this a lot as a teacher, but the only way to really learn is to go slow. There’s so much going on when you dance, you mind and body need time to become aware of what’s happening and integrate the information. Granted, as a student, I hate that. I want to zip through new dance patterns like everybody else does. I’ve been learning to knit recently, and I can’t tell you how eager I am to knit a blanket. But my first project was a pot holder, and my next one’s going to be a cap. That’s the deal; with anything, you have to start small and work you way up. You can’t just dive into the deep end without learning how to swim first. Yesterday I said my therapist thought the universe was trying to get me to slow down (because I injured my knee a few months ago). If she’s right, it’s a hard lesson to learn. After the workshop today, there was a dance, and I wanted so badly to really cut loose. But I forced myself to stick to the basics, to go slow.

One friend I danced with noted that my steps were “measured.” She was right–I was super careful this afternoon during the workshop and especially this evening on the dance floor. And whereas that was frustrating as hell, it’s what my body requires. And it’s not awful. Actually, I wish I had gone slower when I first started dancing. I wish my steps had been measured back then. That is, I wish I’d taken more time to move slowly and deliberately, to really focus on my technique, to not develop bad habits.

Alas, I didn’t become interested in the technical, finer details of dancing until much later, when I started teaching. And even though being a teacher has taught me the value of not being in a hurry, I still often am. I start a project, like this blog or rehab-ing my knee, for example, and I want to get to the end. I see those motivational posters that say, “Life’s not a destination, it’s a journey,” and feel like vomiting. I want to do that fancy dance move, I want to be published, I want my knee back. Get me across the finish line already.

Hell, just get me to bed.

Your relationships won’t get better until you do.

It occurs to me that everything I’m really proud of–my dancing ability and knowledge, my relationships, my work in therapy, this blog–has come from measured effort. Not that I’ve been measured (or patient or calm) every minute of every damn day with any of these things, but I have been measured enough to be 1) intentional and 2) consistent. That’s what I’d say to anyone wanting to learn a new thing or grow themselves in some way–be intentional and consistent. That is, act on purpose. Obviously, you’re not going to accidentally become a good dancer, nor are you going to slip on a banana peel one day and have a completed novel fall out of your brain on your way down. Likewise, your relationships won’t get better until you do. It takes a decision. After that, it takes dedication. Simply put, you have to keep showing up.

Even if you’re not in the mood. Even if you only got five hours of sleep last night.

I say this for myself more than for anyone else. I constantly struggle with knowing when to push myself (for example, when to lose sleep in order to write this blog) and when to back off. Today in class I talked about how Lindy Hop has “built-in” times to rest. That is, certain steps take up more beats in the music, which gives the dancer time to breathe and not feel hurried. So I’m trying to recognize that these times exist in my life too, that it’s important to be measured or intentional about slowing down as well.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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