I’m Not in Charge Here (Blog #651)

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This afternoon I had my second physical therapy appointment to rehab my recently repaired knee (I tore my ACL, had surgery). Today they added new exercises–heel raises, balancing on one foot, one-leg presses, and this thing where I sit in a rolly chair, dig my heels into the carpet, and pull myself around the room. Talk about feeling conspicuous. That being said, pretty much everyone in the room today was gimped up in one way or another. One lady was doing leg exercises like I was, another was doing shoulder work, and another was working on her elbow. Hell, even one of the staff members had his leg in a boot and was walking with a cane. I thought, THESE are my people.

For forty minutes I stretched, lifted, and flexed my left leg. The hardest thing was practicing going DOWN stairs, since apparently you bend your knee twice as much going down stairs as you do when you go up them. Anyway, I broke a sweat. But then they wrapped my leg in an ice blanket, and I quickly cooled off. Especially since the machine sprung a leak and squirted water all over my leg and all down my sock. That felt good.

After physical therapy, I came home and took a nap. Seriously, I don’t have a lot of energy and can’t seem to get enough rest. Probably because my leg keeps waking me up at night. I keep telling myself this is normal, that the doctor took a drill bit long enough to tunnel through a stack of two-by-fours and ran it through my leg, so it should be achy, tired, and pissed off. Still, I have a hard time slowing down and giving my body what it’s asking for (rest). For one thing, I’m used to being active. For another, I’m supposed to be doing rehab exercises two or three times a day at home or the gym, and I can’t exactly do those while I’m sleeping.

To be clear, the rehab exercises aren’t so much difficult as they are time-consuming. Originally there were nine exercises, and now I think I’m up to twelve or fifteen, depending on whether I’m at home or at the gym. Again, that’s three times a day. As my mom says, getting better has become a full-time job. Still, it’s paying off. Today my physical therapist seemed impressed with my ability to balance on one leg and said I was actually “ahead of the curve.” So that’s something.

Lately–over the last year–I’ve been trying to lower my standards. What I mean is that I’m used to a certain level of energy and activity, and my body simply hasn’t been consistently capable of that for a while now. So I’m trying to listen to it. My therapist says something big happens whenever you can really give into the universe and say, “Fine, damn it. I’m not in charge here. I’m on your time schedule.” What that big thing is, I don’t know. Probably inner peace or some shit like that. But again, I’m trying, to be okay with how things are right here, right now, to let sleeping as much as possible and doing my rehab exercises be my life for a while.

Okay, I’m off to the gym.

And then to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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Bending Is Trending (Blog #648)

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It’s 10:45 at night, and I’ve spent most the day in bed, either icing my knee, reading a book, or taking a nap. My body seems to want a lot of rest. I can’t imagine why. When I haven’t been in bed, I’ve been on the floor, doing rehab exercises for my left knee, which was operated on twelve days ago. And whereas for over a week there’s been a point at which my knee’s said, “That’s it, I’m not going any farther,” today something gave, and it went past that point. That is to say, now I can bend my knee more than ninety degrees. Let’s hear it for progress. Just in time for my checkup with my surgeon tomorrow.

Maybe I’ll get a gold star.

What’s fabulous about this progress is that a lot of pain wasn’t involved in getting there. In other words, I didn’t have to grunt and groan and force myself to bend my knee more. Rather, while doing a particular exercise, it was like I was no longer driving with the brakes on. Something simply let go, and I had more range of motion. Of course, it may be that certain muscles have become stronger and are able to pull more than before. I don’t know all the mechanics involved in moving one’s leg, but I have noticed that my left quad is starting to flex more, so that could be it. Regardless of the inner workings of my knee, I’m thrilled that my bending is trending.

Putting on pants will be much easier now.

Inspired by my friend Sweetie Berry, this afternoon I performed what she calls A Fifteen-Minute Miracle, which is a quick, simple act to organize your life, get yourself together, or move forward on a creative project. In my case, I cleaned up a piece of furniture in my room on which I’ve been stashing “everything” since before my surgery. And whereas it wasn’t a huge mess, things had piled up, since walking has been hard and it’s been easy to toss stuff there. Anyway, it took a couple miracle sessions to get everything thrown away, put up, or rearranged, but it really was easiest thing.

Here’s before.

Here’s after.

One of the things I had to decide while cleaning up was what birthday, thanksgiving, and Christmas cards I was going to keep. Typically I hold on to cards for a month or two then toss them. This is the minimalist in me; things don’t pile up that way. But today I decided to hang on to a few “special” cards and take a picture of a few others that touched my heart or made me smile. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a big deal to hang on to cards, and I also use throwing them away as a reminder to be as present as possible. What I mean is, whenever I throw a card away, I think, The past is over. This is my life now.

This is a mantra I’ve used a lot lately. The past is over. This is my life now. Earlier I watched an eight-year-old video of me teaching a dance class. God, how so much has changed–my haircut, my weight, all my clothes, and definitely my left knee. I kept looking at my legs move across the floor thinking, I wish I could do that. But this is a recipe for misery, comparing the now-you to the old-you. Recently I watched a video of Byron Katie walking in a cast. She says, “Am I slow or am I fast? If you don’t compare–don’t know, don’t know.” In other words, if we’re not measuring ourselves against our former selves or anyone else, we’re simply left with this moment, right here, right now.

Life’s funny. One day you can bend your knee, the next day you can’t, and then you can again. Your room’s a mess for a while, and then it’s not. Is one thing really better than another? No. More pleasant, maybe, but everything has its time. And whereas I often try to hurry things along and push-push-push my life and health in the direction I want them to go, the truth is that everything not only has its time, but everything takes its time. Which is hard, the fact that changes often happen so slowly. Granted, it’s good for growing character and patience, but not much else. (Oh wait, character and patience are kind of everything.) And so I come back to this moment, in which I’m learning to bend more than I thought I could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All your scattered pieces want to come back home.

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On Being Decapitated (Blog #644)

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It’s 11:17, and this needs to be quick, since I didn’t sleep so hot last night and need to get some rest. Well, wait, I did sleep hot. That’s part of the problem. Not only did I keep waking up in the middle of the night half-terrorized by crazy dreams, but I also woke up hot. That is, sweating. Granted, I don’t think I had a fever, but my hair and shirt were soaked. This happens sometimes when my body is under stress or something is “off.” Anyway, I need to turn in earlier tonight, and I still need to blog and do one more set of rehab exercises.

The rehab exercises, I think, are definitely paying off. Today I’ve been getting around pretty well and have even been able to carry semi-large items from here to there. Earlier when I took tonight’s picture, I even got my left leg to bend a little more than 90 degrees, 90 degrees being my goal. (In the picture it looks like it’s my right leg that’s bent, but it’s actually my left. Camera flip or whatever.) Anyway, this is progress. Earlier tonight a couple called about dance lessons starting later this month, and I didn’t even mention my knee surgery. Sure, I’ll have limitations in what I can demonstrate, but they’re beginners. Plus, just to be sure, I “walked” through a basic dance step a few hours ago. And get this shit. I did it.

This afternoon I took a shower. Not to be gross, but that’s only happening about every two or three days. Hell, that was the case BEFORE surgery, but especially now. It really does take a lot of effort with a stiff knee–getting in and out of the tub, carefully standing up or sitting down. Thankfully, I’m getting to the point where my left leg can bend and actually help me stand or lower. Before that job belonged solely to “righty,” and “lefty” was simply dead weight. I noticed in the shower today that my left leg is distinctly yellow. I knew it was bruised before but realized this afternoon that the bruising extends further than I realized. Ugh. This is a big damn deal. The whole thing, I mean. As if the seventeen staples in my knee weren’t enough to convince me of that fact.

But back to my keeping this short so I can get some rest. Last night I dreamed that I was in an old church (a common dream place for me), and there was a group of athletic students jumping from one set of tall scaffolding to another. There was one student, a girl, who made the jump successfully a couple times, but then felt hesitant and fell to her death. No shit, there she was on the floor, decapitated. Talk about gross. No wonder I didn’t sleep well. Anyway, I’ve been chewing on this all day, and here’s what I’ve come up with. First, girls represent one’s intuitive or feeling side, and the girl’s feelings of hesitation and failure (I’m assuming she felt failure on the way to her death) mimic my own feelings regarding my dance jump that went seriously wrong and resulted in my having to have surgery. Second, I think the fact that the girl “lost her head” has something to do with keeping one’s head and heart together.

I’ll explain.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend about integrity. Not integrity in a moral sense, although I guess that would apply. Rather, integrity as I see it is concerned with having one’s head and heart lined up. Or, said another way, having all parts of your body and soul on the same page and working together. In the dream, the girl was hesitant, meaning her head was saying one thing and her heart was saying another. I can think of a number of situations in my life where my head and heart are likewise conflicted. For example, my body (as I see it, my heart) is currently asking me to slow down and take care of myself. My head, however, is set on being “productive.” This, of course, is a conflict and amounts to my being “separated” or “decapitated” in dream terms. So I’m working on it, on listening to my heart and getting all parts of myself on the same page. This is no small task.

That’s okay. I have time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Bending (Blog #643)

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Last night I blogged with a headache. Talk about no fun. Then I watched Netflix and ate popcorn by the handful out of a five-gallon tin. Followed by three scoops of ice cream. Then I went to bed, still with a headache, but I guess it disappeared sometime during the night. Weird how problems can be so “in your face” then slowly and silently fade away like a ghost through a wall. I have about ten pounds I wish would do that. I know, the popcorn and ice cream aren’t helping that wish come true.

You don’t have to rub it in.

Today has been all right. (Yes, just all right.) Honestly, all my days are beginning to look the same. Eat a meal, do knee rehab (while watching Netflix), ice knee (while still watching Netflix), repeat. Today I did finish reading a book about business that I started before Christmas, but otherwise it’s been zoning out on Netflix and movies. Just today I finished the series Atypical (which I discussed last night), and watched the movies Dumplin’ (which is about the overweight daughter of a former beauty queen and made me cry) and The Shape of Water (which is about a woman who falls in love with a sea creature and was obviously weird but beautiful). Then I started back on Season 2 of Ozark, about a family in Missouri who’s laundering money for a Mexican drug cartel. It’s so good.

And stressful.

Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to the series. Not that I’m so wrapped up in it, although I guess I am. I just want to zone out, escape. For one thing, it’s cold and gloomy outside. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) or whatever. For another, life’s been tough lately, and I’ve had enough. Normally I’d be up and on the go, distracting myself that way. But since I had knee surgery only a week ago today, going places isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Plus, every time I stand up, sit down, take a step, or do rehab, I’m reminded of what my body CAN’T do. I’m reminded of everything that hurts. And it’s frustrating as hell. Thus all the binge watching and pop corn and ice cream eating.

Shove those feelings down!

Despite my frustration, I do see progress. Standing up today hasn’t hurt nearly as bad as it has for the last week, and my knee is bending more. Like, earlier I draped it off the side of the couch, and a few days ago that would have been unthinkable, since its default position was “straight out” and I didn’t have enough muscle strength/control to get my foot to the floor without manually picking it up and putting it there. So that’s something. Things are improving. I’m not dancing the jitterbug, but hey, I’m BENDING.

The doctor said my goal was to bend my leg 90 degrees by the two-week mark, and I’m pretty much there now. (Go me.) But that’s it; I can’t go farther than 90. I just hit this point where all my muscles say, “Hell no, we won’t go.” The doctor said, “Don’t worry. You’re not going to pull anything loose.” Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s going to snap–bend and snap (that’s a musical reference, Mom). Whatever. I’m sure my muscles will come around sooner or later, so I’ll keep trying to bend, both physically and emotionally. Because that’s the difficult thing, zoning back in after you’ve zoned out, pushing yourself to do and be more than you have before, even if “being more” simply means being more patient with your body or being more gentle with your self-talk.

All things in good time, sweetheart.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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We’ll Try Again (Blog #632)

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I don’t know what to say about today. Things happened. Now I’m ready to go to bed. Blah.

Okay, I’ll try again.

This morning I got up early to ride with my dad and aunt halfway to Oklahoma City, where we dropped my aunt off with my aunt’s son (my cousin) and two of her three grandchildren. (She’s spending the holidays with them.) On the way there, I read a book; on the way back, I visited with my dad. When we got back to town, we ran a couple errands.

Since then, I’ve been at home organizing paperwork, doing laundry, and worrying about my health. Also, I’ve been working on a puzzle off and on. It’s slow going. Everything right now feels like it’s slow going. Slow going and overwhelming. One minute I feel like I can do this, the next minute I feel like I can’t. Earlier I went outside and looked at the stars. It’s been weeks since I’ve star-gazed, and I still don’t have a handle on the winter sky. The Northern Cross, which was overhead all last summer (and every summer), now dips below the western horizon well before midnight. Even this sent a streak of panic through me. I thought, Wait! Come back. I liked you.

This evening a friend came by to give me a Christmas present–a thousand piece puzzle that promises to be one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done–because it’s basically a mix of solid colors, and (get this shit) the colors change whenever you look at them from a different angle. I hope that makes sense. (Here’s a link to a similar puzzle if it doesn’t.) Anyway, my friend said, “When you’re working on it and get frustrated, just remember–I really do you like you.” Hum, I feel like there’s a lesson here. Recently someone said, “Consider the idea that you’re loved.” Like, by God, the universe, or life itself. So I’ve been trying to do this, to remember that just because I’m frustrated now, doesn’t mean the world is out to get me. Indeed, years from now I could look back on my current challenges and think, Absolutely necessary.

My puzzle friend, who’s had their fair-share of injuries and surgeries, suggested that I be as patient as possible with my body. “It may take longer than you want it to,” they said, “but one day you’ll wake up and think, This is what I used to feel like.” In the meantime, they suggested I be thankful for my body–because it’s doing the best it can. Even now, they reminded me, the muscles in both my legs are working hard to compensate for the damage we’ve sustained.

This is something I intend to do, to recognize where my body is knocking it out of the park. Because when I think about my injured knee, I think, Wait! Come back. I liked you. And yet in thirty-eight years, I’ve never told it, “Thank you. Thank you for letting me walk. Thank you for letting me dance.” Along these lines, I’m considering the idea that I’m loved not just by something “out there,” but by my own body, something “right here, right now.” That is, I have a body that serves me the best it can every day. Granted, it doesn’t always do what I want it to, but I don’t always do what it wants me to either. So good that we have this time to slow down. Maybe now we can learn to get along, learn to listen to and appreciate each other.

Okay, we’ll try again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

Full of Silver Linings (Blog #626)

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Despite sleeping last night for a solid twelve hours, I’ve been dragging ass today. Also, I’ve been dragging my left leg, and I’m sure the fact that my knee is injured is contributing to my general exhaustion. Ugh. Everything from taking a shower to putting my pants on simply takes more effort than it used to. But I’m working on being gentle with myself, by seriously lowering my standards regarding what constitutes a “productive” day. After I took a shower this afternoon (and shaved!), I thought, That’s enough. If I do nothing else for the rest of the day, I showered!

Yesterday my friend Bonnie sent me a meme that said, “Your worth is not measured by your productivity.” And whereas I agree, this is a tough idea for me to shake, that “getting shit done” isn’t what it’s all about. (It’s the Hokey Pokey, duh.) Anyway, I’m trying to remember this, that my inherent value hasn’t changed just because my mobility has.

Yesterday after seeing the Symphony of Northwest Arkansas, I went to Dickson Street Bookshop, one of my favorite used bookstores anywhere, ever. No kidding, it’s awesome; there are more books than you could shake a stick at. Thankfully, I was able to limit myself to one purchase, a book about the “benefits” of being ill. This afternoon I read the first few chapters, and the author’s point seems to be that often a debilitating illness (like arthritic hips in his case or a bum knee in mine) causes us to slow down and thus affords us opportunities we might not otherwise afford ourselves. For example, we might use our down time to reflect, reconsider our priorities, write a book, or even–here’s a novel idea–tell someone no.

I guess a book would be a novel idea too. (Insert groan here.)

So far, this line of thinking makes sense to me. As frustrating as it is for me to have an injured knee, I do appreciate what it’s teaching me. Already I’ve been forced to receive kindnesses from friends and strangers I would have under different circumstances refused to accept. Surely this is a good thing, just like it’s been a good thing for me slow down, slow way down, this last year while I’ve battled a number of health challenges. Before all this mess started, I almost never slowed down, almost never got still and really sat with my emotions. I mean really. But that’s a benefit to being sick. It makes you raw. It makes you listen to yourself.

Or at least it strongly encourages you to listen to yourself.

Not that I’m not ready for all this bullshit to be over. I am. I’m ready to walk again, ready to dance again, ready to wake up in the morning ready and willing to go. One day. For now, this is my life, and I’m working on accepting it with grace. Working on it. This afternoon I saw a dear friend who just had back surgery. They were told, “You can eat a BLT, but you can’t BLT (bend, lift, or twist).” This evening I had dinner with a friend who’s having surgery on their wrist after the first of the year. And it’s not that misery loves company. Because I’m not miserable. That’s my point. It’s difficult to feel miserable when you really get it–I’m not alone here.

This is the human condition. Fraught with challenges. At the same time, full of silver linings.

Earlier tonight I tried replacing a lightbulb in one of my chandeliers. However, something is apparently wrong with the socket. No matter how many different perfectly good bulbs I put in it, it wouldn’t light up. And so it is with this body. I’ve tried everything I know to do, and it’s still tired, still hurts. Are things forever hopeless for me and my chandelier? Absolutely not. First, for my chandelier, there’s always Lowe’s. Second, for me, the body is full of wonders, capable of all kinds of miracles. Last week I developed a skin rash that had me all kinds of stressed out, but the last few days, it’s been improving. It’s not perfect, but it’s moving in the right direction. So I have to believe the body tends toward repair. I have to believe life wants me to heal, if not physically then at least deep down. I have to believe that even my challenges serve this purpose, since they not only allow me to meet myself in a new way, but also reveal strengths and powers within me I previously did not know existed.

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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The Hardest Lesson You Will Ever Learn (Blog #608)

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Phew. I swear. I haven’t had a lick of energy today. I hate that, feeling like I’ve had the stuffing knocked out of me, going about my day with all the inner fortitude of a soggy biscuit. Still, I’ve tried not to obsess over it (even though I’m clearly obsessing about it now) and just put one foot in front of the other.

Left, right, left, right.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we discussed my frustration with not feeling well. She said that she went through a similar period in her life. And whereas it frustrated her at the time too, she’s grateful for it now–because it helped make her who she is today both personally and professionally. Like, she’s more understanding and supportive and shit. “It’s about developing patience,” she said, “and patience is THE HARDEST lesson you will ever learn. It FUCKING SUCKS.”

But for real.

Later my therapist said she felt like 2019 was going to be a good year for me. God, I hope she’s right. Regardless, I can’t tell you what a big deal this is, to have someone who not only believes in and affirms me, but also consistently imagines a better future for me. Even when I’ve been too down to hope for myself, she’s said, “Things are going to get better. And it’s okay if you don’t believe that–I believe enough for both of us.”

After therapy I went to a coffee shop and read until I got kicked out. The book I’m working my way through is a 450-page tome on addiction in all its many forms (nicotine, drugs, alcohol, shopping, you name it). Then, despite the fact that I’m nowhere near finished with this and a number of other books I’ve started, I went to the library and checked out two more–because THAT’S my addiction. Buying (or checking out) books is that thing that gets me excited (that is, that causes my brain to release dopamine) just thinking about. And whereas I might have “worried” about this at one time, I don’t anymore because 1) it’s a benign habit, 2) it’s not hurting me or anyone else, and 3) it could be A LOT worse.

This evening my parents, my aunt, and I went out to eat for my mom’s birthday (it’s today), and despite my professed lack of energy, I somehow managed to shove a giant burger, a fistful of fries, and half a piece of cheesecake into my mouth. Anyway, here’s a picture after ALL OF US cleaned our plates.

After dinner my parents and I drove around Fort Smith to look at Christmas lights. This was the perfect thing–low-key, easy, beautiful. Now it’s after midnight, and I’m about to turn into a pumpkin. I’m in this weird place–not thrilled about where I am and how I feel, but not devastated about it either. Of course I want things to get better. I want to have more energy. But if this is my life now, this is my life now. If this is meant to teach me patience, then that’s what I intend to learn.

Slowly, of course, since patience by definition can’t be learned quickly.

Damn it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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There’s No Rushing Life (Blog #575)

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This afternoon I finished fixing/painting the side of the house I was working on yesterday, the same house I’ve been working on–inside and out–for the past many weeks. So that’s it. Barring any hiccups or unforeseen projects, I’m done. The realtor said the house should be listed early this coming week. So I loaded up my tools, did one final trash run, and celebrated tonight with fried mushrooms and a piece of chocolate cake. And whereas I enjoyed this debauchery immensely, my stomach quickly pitched a fit.

My gut: ever the party pooper.

This is really the oddest feeling, to have an ongoing and seemingly never-ending project end. But this has been the case with so many other things in my life, and I can only assume will be the case with so many more, including this blog. One day something starts, it goes on for a while, and then one day it ends.

Well, either it ends or you do.

Whenever I complete a project, whenever something is over, I tend to stare in both disbelief and admiration (way to go, Marcus!). This evening after I put all the paint cans away and loaded up all my supplies, I did one final walk around the property just to take it all in. I remembered when my friends still lived there, when their home was full of their possessions and memories. Then I remembered all the boxes–all the boxes!–before they moved, and my cleaning all the walls and floors after they left. Little by little–somehow–we got it done.

The last couple of nights I’ve been struck with gratitude with respect to the entire ordeal. First, I’m glad for the work. It’s nice to be employed. But I’m also glad for all the help. Obviously my friends did A LOT of packing before they left, and today their realtor’s husband came by to patch some cracked concrete and haul off some branches I couldn’t fit into the back of Tom Collins (my car). And even though they didn’t do anything directly, my parents loaned me their vacuum cleaner and mop. For that matter, the hardware store provided me with paint, sandpaper, and–most importantly–mosquito spray (for a nominal fee, of course). My point is–we never do things completely alone.

It takes a village and all that shit.

When I got home this evening, I took a long, hot shower. Well, okay, fine–I took a bath. (I like baths. So sue me!) Anyway, I scrubbed the latex paint off my skin and washed the bug spray out of my hair. And–I don’t know–it was like nine o’clock, and I was SO READY for bed. Hell, at seven I was ready for bed; it gets dark SO FRICKIN’ EARLY these days, all I want to do is hibernate. Well, okay, fine–get fat and hibernate. And whereas I’d planned to blog and fall right to sleep, I got distracted by the internet and ended up watching every trailer and promo video I could find for the soon-to-be-released movie about Freddie Mercury. (Freddie Mercury was the lead singer for the band Queen, Mom. He himself was a queen and died due to complications related to AIDS.) Anyway, the movie looks FABULOUS. Granted, it doesn’t have ANYTHING to do with tonight’s blog, but–nonetheless–I can’t wait for it.

It occurs to me that I often “can’t wait” for a lot of things–can’t wait for this project to end, can’t wait for this Freddie Mercury movie to come out (no pun intended), can’t wait to go to bed. And yet there’s no rushing life; everything happens in its own time, in its own season. Something is always ending; something is always beginning. If we’re lucky, we’re able to find appreciation for this present moment, for what is, for the way things are–whatever they are–right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You’re exactly where you need to be.

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Natura Non Facit Saltus (Blog #542)

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Last night I lay in bed until three reading a book about gothic churches that I downloaded on my phone. The book points out that gothic architecture was specifically designed and intended to speak to a person’s soul in terms of transformation. For example, in Notre Dame in Paris (as well as in a number of other classic cathedrals), those who enter do so from the west so that they’re facing the east, where the sun rises–the understood message being, “Leave the shadows and enter into the light.” Not surprisingly, the church itself is laid out like a cross (the longer section running east to west, the shorter section or “transept” running north to south), the cross being a symbol of heaven (the vertical) meeting earth (the horizontal), as well a symbol of death, since one must die or be crucified (figuratively speaking) before one can be transformed or born again.

Having stayed up late the last two nights, I can definitely feel it. Today my body has been–um–sluggish. Maybe I can get back to my sleep schedule tonight. As it’s been one full week since I began trying to get more sleep and exercise, today seems like a good day to reset and reevaluate. Can I reasonably keep these changes up? Where do I need to back off? Where do I need to step things up? Considering I have more work to do this week than last week, I know some adjustments are definitely in order.

This afternoon while reading about how alchemy relates to violins (I’m not kidding), I picked up a phrase that was used to describe the sound quality of a Stradivarius–strong but not strident. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Recently my therapist and I talked about being able to be DIRECT and yet still have STYLE. How can you be HONEST and not be RUDE? How can you be STRONG but NOT STRIDENT? In my experience, it takes A LOT of practice.

Like playing the violin.

This evening my aunt helped me repot a plant that she helped me originally repot, oddly enough, exactly 52 weeks ago. (Today is Sunday, September 23, 2018, and the first potting took place on Sunday, September 24, 2017. You can read about it here.) We didn’t plan it like this–it just happened. 364 days. Autumn Equinox weekend to Autumn Equinox weekend.

Here’s a picture of the plant a year ago.

Here’s a picture of it now. (Thanks, Aunt!)

It takes time to be born again.

Wow. What a wonderful visible reminder that dramatic change is possible. Of course, I can’t say WHEN exactly the plant got bigger, but it obviously did. There’s a phrase in Latin that says, “Natura non facit saltus,” or, “Nature does not make jumps.” In other words, just as the sun moves gradually from east to west and a plant puts on new leaves at a certain, sometimes undetectable pace, so does one change–slowly. The sun (at the equinoxes) spends twelve hours “in the dark.” Christ was three days in the grave. The phoenix was three days in the ashes. Unfortunately, transformation doesn’t have a drive-thru window. It takes time to be born again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.

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On Fermentation (Blog #512)

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Well shit. After waking up at 6:15 this morning and rushing to and through the St. Louis airport just to sit on the tarmac (again!) for over an hour (due to lightning), I finally made it to Washington, DC, this afternoon. The good news–my luggage made it too. In fact, it was one of the first onto the conveyor belt. The bad news–almost everything inside was wet. I guess they left my bag outside while it was raining. Oh well. I took a complimentary (hotel-sponsored) shuttle to the hotel where I’m staying, got checked into my room, and laid my clothes out to dry.

When I told one of my friends about my problems yesterday and today, she said, “The flight home will be better.”

Let’s hope she’s right.

I’m here in the nation’s capital for the International Lindy Hop Championships, one of the largest and well-known swing-dancing competition events in the world. This is my first time here, my maiden voyage, and I’ve come mostly to observe. And despite the fact that I’m not competing or taking classes, normally I’m intimidated in new dancing situations. But today I’ve felt at home–comfortable in my own body and heart. What’s more, I’ve seen some friendly faces–people who know my name and seem to like me. So that helps.

The weekend here is jam-packed with things to see and do. I’m not sure what’s going on now, but I do know that dinner starts before long, so that’s my priority. Well, after I take a shower and brush my teeth. Since I was stuck in St. Louis last night while my luggage was stuck in Tulsa, I haven’t used an honest-to-god toothbrush in over thirty-six hours. Granted, I did scrub my teeth with my finger and a bar of hotel soap (that tasted ever so slightly like lemon), but that’s wasn’t the same thing. Also, I know washing my mouth out with soap sounds gross, but it was my best option at the moment and wasn’t as bad as you might think. Try it for yourself sometime.

Just don’t swallow!

Currently my brain is mush. I could really use a nap. That being said, I can’t stop thinking about fermentation. Odd, I know, but I finished reading my book about alchemy on the plane today, and fermentation is one of the seven phases of what alchemists call The Great Work. And not that they have to happen in a certain order, but fermentation is step number five and is basically the step in The Great Work (or self-work or spiritual work) in which “the hard part” has been done and now you simply wait as everything in your life putrifies, breaks down, and rots. It’s not pretty or fun, but that’s why St. John of the Cross referred to this stage as The Dark Night of the Soul.

Of the seven stages, this is the one I currently identify with the most, as it’s the one in which you feel as if nothing in your life is working–because nothing in your life is; it’s not supposed to. Rather, by design, all the things you once held dear–including your values, relationships, and precious opinions–are intended to break down and fail you so that YOU can be transformed. The books advice? Wait. Do nothing. Don’t try (because you’ll fail). Try resting for a change.

This advice is frustrating for a do-er like me, of course, but what I love about this alchemical way of looking at the world is that it reminds me that you can’t force The Process. Sometimes the best you can do–the most appropriate thing you can do–is wait. Be still. What’s more, I’m reminded that just as suddenly as problems and frustrations can show up in our lives, they can disappear. At SOME point, the fermentation process does end, and a new, transformed life emerges.

At–some–point.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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