A Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Blog #858)

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Fifteen minutes after writing last night’s blog, in which I stated that I felt woozy, I promptly threw up. A lot. Thank God I made it to the commode. The body really is phenomenal. A true wonder. For a solid minute I wretched up my breakfast, my dinner, and a midnight snack. It was fascinating. I could feel my stomach acid burning my throat. Still, it’s funny the things you think about during the most disgusting and nauseating moments of your life. All the things that can run through your mind. Leaned over the toilet with both my knees on the cold tile, I thought, I sure am glad I didn’t get sick like this eight months ago when my leg was in a brace.

I mean, that would have been awkward, trying to get down on the floor and vomiting with a bum knee. Awkward and messy.

Now it’s almost twenty-four hours later, and I haven’t thrown up since. Phew. That being said, I’ve felt like crap all day. Not miserably awful, but nonetheless gross–tired, worn out, a bit lightheaded. My dad went to the grocery store this morning and got me bananas, rice, applesauce, and yogurt. In addition to one piece of toast, this is all I’ve eaten all day. This afternoon I watched a movie in which one of the characters folded a pizza in half and stuck it in his mouth, and my stomach rolled over. That’s one of the funny things about feeling sick. Nothing sounds good. It’s hard to imagine ever feeling well again.

Or is that just me?

One positive to not feeling well is that it’s given me a chance (an excuse?) to do nothing. Or rather, to lie in bed all day and watch television and movies. To take a nap. This afternoon I watched four episodes of the old television show Soap. Then I watched the classic movie Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. It’s fabulous. If you’ve never seen it, I’m just going to say this one thing. Young Paul Newman. Anyway, then I watched a newer movie, Green Book, which is based on a true story, is set in the 1960s, and is about an uneducated white guy (thug) who’s hired to be the chauffeur for a African American concert pianist during his tour of the south. This was also fabulous. I cried.

As much as I’m enjoying watching movies–and oh, this evening I watched a bunch of standup comedy on the YouTubes–I’m really hoping my body will rally and feel better tomorrow. I’m thinking it was something I ate. Maybe a “little” twenty-four hour virus. Regardless, I have shit to do. Better said, I have shit I think I have to do. Because the truth is, there’s nothing we have to do. I could die tonight (don’t worry, Mom, I’m not planning on it), and somehow the world would move on. I think this is one of the benefits to being sick. It helps put things in perspective. Like, What’s really important, here? Why do I have to get sick before I’ll give myself permission to binge watch movies–something I enjoy?

Recently I heard that if you’re hung up on being productive (check), perfect (check), or pleasing to other people (formerly check), it’s because at some point in your life you got the message that in order to have VALUE you had to be these things. Said another way, the only way for you to SURVIVE was to–produce, not mess up, be nice, not show your emotions–fill in the blank. Seen from this perspective, psychological idiosyncrasies aren’t to be shamed, but rather are to be thanked–they helped us get by when were children. That being said, most of us take thoughts and patterns of behavior that worked when we were younger and continue to apply them throughout our entire lives. Ugh. I look at my nine-year-old nephew. He’s cute and all, but would I want HIS thinking, HIS logic calling the shots in my life?

Hell, no.

This is why I think it’s vitally important to update your mental and emotional software as you get older. Read self-help books. Go to therapy. Develop a spiritual practice. Do anything and everything you can to question both what you were taught and what you have come to believe. If something still works for you, fine, keep it. But if any thought, any behavior causes you pain, consider that there might be a better way. Sometimes I push myself so much to learn more, do more, it’s terrible. “I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.” My body suffers. And so I continue to work through The Process and continue to walk The Path. I think, How can we be kinder to ourselves? How can we be gentler, sweetheart?

Let’s come down off this hot roof.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Great Lesbian Belt Mistake (Blog #855)

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Hum. Where are we going today?

Let’s find out.

This morning I woke up at 7:30(!), and before my feet even hit the floor, I was smiling. Crap, I thought, I hope I’m not becoming a morning person. Seriously, 7:30 is early for me, y’all, but I knew I had a lot going on today, which is why I decided last night to set my alarm for 8:00 this morning–and why, apparently, my body woke me up even earlier than that. Anyway, I got up, got dressed, made breakfast, and headed to work at my friend’s rent house. And whereas my goal was to finish yesterday’s painting project (the living room), after four hours I’d only ALMOST finished it. Alas, I was out of time and nearly out of paint. Of course, my inner perfectionist was disappointed, but the part of me that wanted to take a shower and get on with the day was quite pleased.

There’s no hurry, it said. We’ll finish it later!

And so we shall.

Currently it’s the afternoon, almost evening, and I’m blogging now because I’m going out with a friend later for dinner and a show. Just a bit ago I stopped at the dry cleaners to pick up some items I dropped off for alterations last week. Simple enough stuff, I thought–a pair of shorts that needed a button sewn back on (too much pizza, I guess), and a cloth belt that needed two new D-rings sewn in.

I’ll explain.

Since I had my estate sale almost three years ago, I haven’t owned a belt. And whereas I wish I’d kept one specific belt, somehow I’ve gotten along just fine without one. Anyway, a couple weeks ago I bought a pair of shorts, and they came with this cloth belt, one of those ones with two D-rings on one end. You know, the adjustable kind (for those of us who like pizza). The plain end goes around your waist, through both rings, then double backs through just one of them.

Well, I’ll be damned if one of those D-rings didn’t snap in half the first time I tried to take the belt off.

No kidding.

Not one to be easily defeated, rather than throw the belt away, I decided to have it repaired. Here’s how. First I went to a local thrift store and bought a cheap cloth belt with two (solid) D-rings for fifty cents. (Talk about a bargain.) Then I cut the new D-rings out and, along with the one D-ring belt, took them to the cleaners and explained–“Please take this old ring out of the belt, then sew both these other rings in.”

“Sounds simple,” the lady said.

Well, get this shit. As I just said, earlier I picked up my shorts and belt. And whereas the shorts were fine, the belt wasn’t. They sewed a D-ring into EACH END of the belt. Ugh. Instead of having a “male” end and a “female” end, I ended up with two female ends. THEY TURNED MY BELT INTO A LESBIAN!

I can’t tell you how unamused I was.

“Do you want us to fix it?” the girl said.

“Uh, yeah I do,” I said.

Y’all, I hate to admit that this little kerfuffle upset me more than I wish it had. Seriously, for a good forty-five minutes, I was like, What the hell? How could anyone imagine that this setup would work? (No offense, lesbians.) Maybe it’s because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Or the fact that my body hurts. Or just that I don’t deal with stupid very well. (Not very well at all, I’m afraid to say.) Regardless, my inner perfectionist wasn’t having it. What a waste of time and money, he said.

Now. Yesterday I talked about trying to feel better, just a little better than you currently do. My therapist says, “I practice what I preach,” so I figured I should too. That is, I gave myself a moment to be pissed off, then I started thinking of my friend and the show I’ll be seeing later. That helped. Then I started this blog and was honest as I knew how to be. (I’ve heard the truth will set you free.) Well, in telling the story, I cracked a few jokes, and THAT helped (I think I’m pretty funny). Now none of this seems like a big deal. I’m like, So what? (Sew what?) I’ll have to go back to the cleaners next week. I could meet my future husband there. Or find twenty dollars on the ground. THEN how would I feel about The Great Lesbian Belt Mistake of 2019?

Um, grateful.

Somewhere I heard that until the age of four, children don’t differentiate smells as good or bad. This is why they can play with shit or vomit and not gag. They don’t find gross smells gross. They just find them “interesting.” I think there’s something to being able to be neutral like this. For example, instead of getting personally offended by the dry cleaners’ (stupid) mistake, I could have thought, Well, isn’t that fascinating? People do the darndest (stupidest) things. Currently I’m at a coffee shop, and a number of the decorations on the wall are crooked as a dog’s hind leg. The lamp shade across the room is tilted. My inner perfectionist is going nuts. However, a part of me remains neutral. My inner creative thinks, That tilted shade looks like a turned-up hat! This is what happens when you get neutral, when you want to feel good. Life becomes interesting.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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Your Beautiful, Creative Mind (Blog #851)

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This morning I wrapped up a house sitting gig then came home, made breakfast, and unpacked. Well, sort of. I brought my bags in from the car. Now they’re on my bedroom floor. Anyway, after breakfast (and a nap), I read The Magician’s Nephew, book one of seven in The Chronicles of Narnia (and just before The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe), by CS Lewis. Somehow I missed this book as a child, but, y’all, it’s delightful. It’s about a young girl named Polly and her friend Digory, who get swept off to a number of different worlds thanks to Digory’s less than integrous uncle, who likes to dabble in magic. Along the way they encounter a terrible witch and, eventually, end up in Narnia, thus setting the stage for six more books about the same enchanting land.

Seven books in total. If you put them side by side, they’re thicker than a brick. What a beautiful, creative mind that CS Lewis (his friends and family called him Jack) clearly had. Sometimes my writer friends and I talk about what it must take as a fiction writer to build an entire world. I thought about this as I read The Magician’s Nephew today, and it seemed clear to me that Lewis must have had a map laid out for the series from the beginning. For example, both a lamppost and a wardrobe are prominent features in The Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe, and the origin of each is explained in The Magician’s Nephew. When I read this I thought, This guy was thinking ahead. However, this was not the case, since The Magician’s Nephew was THE LAST book in the series to be penned. So what Lewis actually did was create something out of thin air (Narnia) then go back later and explain how it got there.

In other words, he was thinking behind.

This evening I finished reading Defy Gravity by Caroline Myss, and one of the points she drives home over and over (and over) again is that you will never, ever (ever) get a satisfactory answer to the question “Why did this happen to me?” I mean, Abraham didn’t get one. Moses didn’t get one. Jesus (the son of God) didn’t get one. Why should you? (Why should I?) And yet something shitty happens, and we all wonder–Why me? Caroline calls this a child’s question, and I think it has to do with the fact that most of us are much better at thinking behind than we are thinking ahead.

I’ll explain.

There’s a story about a man with poor eyesight who’s fishing on a quiet lake and notices another boat approaching him. However, thinking the other boat will turn away, he goes back to fishing. Next thing he knows, the boat has run into him, nearly tipping him into the water. Well, the man is pissed off and starts on this tirade (like you probably do in traffic sometimes). Who the hell do you think you are? and so on. He’s thinking the driver of the other boat is a real asshat. Probably did it on purpose. Like most of us, he wants some answers. However, then the man realizes the boat is unoccupied. Maybe it got loose from the harbor, he thinks. Quickly, he calms down. He even laughs at himself. Boy, I really made a big deal out of nothing.

If the point’s not obvious, it’s that often in life we get hit–physically, emotionally. Shit happens. However, as if almost getting knocked over (physically, emotionally), weren’t enough, we create a narrative about the situation. We think BEHIND and IMAGINE that the other person (or God, even) was out to get us. We take things personally. Of course, you might think, But what if the guy really had been hit by another driver? (I’ve been rear-ended before, and the car that did it was most certainly occupied.) But what’s the difference whether someone was in the boat or not or whether or not they did it on purpose? Either way, you got hit.

So here’s an option. Instead of thinking behind, you could think ahead. Okay, I got hit. NOW what am I gonna do?

This weekend while house sitting I took my friend’s dog for several walks. Honestly, it wasn’t best neighborhood, and I found myself doing what I often do–making judgments. Like, That’s a nice house, that’s a real piece-of-shit house, and so on. Well, if you want to know how to build a world, this is how you do it. What I mean is that the world as it exists is devoid of inherent meaning. My therapist says the universe is neutral. If you want to test this theory out, take a friend–just one honest friend–on a walk or to an art gallery and start comparing notes. What’s beautiful in your eyes will be rubbish in theirs. You’ll walk outside on a cloudy day and think, Disgusting, and your friend will think, Glorious.

In the last example, what we essentially have, at least for a moment, is two different worlds. That is, you’ll be living in a disgusting world, and your friend will be living in a glorious one. Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, this doesn’t mean that you created the clouds in the sky, but it does mean that you–and you alone–created how you perceived or interpreted those clouds, and this means everything.

It means you’re more powerful than you’ve been giving yourself credit for.

Going back to thinking behind, whenever you do see something you dislike, let’s be clear–it’s only because you’ve reached into your past, found a negative experience, and laid its memory on top of your present moment, or, perhaps, your future. Let’s say I were to invite you on a skiing trip and you said, “No, I hate skiing.” Granted, maybe you DID hate skiing six years ago, but how do you know you’ll still hate skiing this December? You can imagine you would hate it, but how could you KNOW? You haven’t been yet.

I mean, anything could happen on those slopes. You could meet your soulmate.

Going back to The Chronicles of Narnia, it seems that thinking behind and thinking ahead are lovely skills to have for authors. And since we are all the authors of our own lives (or at least the internal narrative about our own lives), I grant that these are good skills for all of us. For example, if you’re deathly allergic to peanuts, it’s good to bring your past into the present–so you won’t die from eating peanut butter. If you want to redecorate a room or your life, it’s good to imagine what you’d like to manifest. But when you imagine another person’s (or God’s) motives or take a perfectly lovely day (what did THOSE clouds ever do to you?) and turn it into something disgusting–and thus cause yourself upset or distress–this is misusing your beautiful, creative mind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We all have inner wisdom. We all have true north."

Reality Isn’t Complicated (Blog #843)

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For the last week or more I’ve been go, go, going. Granted, you wouldn’t have known it had you been watching. What I mean is that I’ve been filling my days up with reading, turning one page after another. And whereas this may sound like a leisurely activity, it’s not for me. Because more than simply reading, I’ve been studying, learning, trying to cram as much knowledge into my brain as I can. And whereas I love all of this, it’s still work. Plus, the pressure I put on myself to do more, learn more is exhausting. Tonight I signed up for a free video streaming service (Kanopy) through my library and flagged 7 documentary series (each with about 24 episodes) that I’d like to, think I should, watch. But ugh. Who has time for all this information?

Seriously, it’s overwhelming.

In order to deal with this overwhelm, I did something today I rarely do–I spent the entire day with friends. First, my friends Aaron and Kate and their son and I went to lunch, then we came to where I’m house sitting so we could swim. Then our friends Justin and Ashley joined us. Then Aaron and Kate and their son left, and Justin and Ashley and I went to dinner. Anyway, it was the perfect thing. Being with friends. Soaking up some sun. Not being so damn serious for a change.

Balance.

At one point today I was playing with Aaron and Kate’s son in the pool, and–just like that–he slipped off his floaty and went under water. Sometimes life happens so fast. Well, just as quickly, I snatched him up with both hands. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Water was dripping off his face, but you could have heard a pin drop. Just for an instant. And then the response came–tears. Then coughing. Talk about overwhelming. For a while, Kate held him. Then Aaron held him. Then the two of them were back in the water, the boy laughing again, insisting on getting back on his floaty.

This evening I’ve thought a lot about this. Things happen in the blink of a an eye. In the last two years–just like that–I was rear-ended, I tore my ACL. Oddly enough these experiences weren’t scary. They just happened, and then they were over. Conversely, earlier this week I accidentally ran a red light and didn’t realize it until I was in the middle of the intersection. No one pulled out or even came close to hitting me–everyone just sat there–but my heart jumped up to my throat. My point is that so often it’s not the actual things that happen in our lives that scare us, but the things we imagine will happen, or imagine could have happened, that do. I can’t speak for my young friend, but I know that’s what scared me today about his going under water–after the fact I thought, That could have really been bad.

I say after the fact because in the moment, thankfully, I was present. One minute we were playing around, he was on the floaty, and the next minute he slipped under. I could see his body submerged in water, I knew he couldn’t swim, and I immediately reached for him. Byron Katie says that our bodies are full of wisdom. For example, you accidentally touch a hot stove, and your hand automatically moves away from the heat. You don’t have to think, The stove’s hot, I should move my hand. It just happens. That’s what snatching my young friend out of the water was like. Automatic. I didn’t have to think or worry about how to do it.

My point in all this is twofold. First, it’s that in the moment we’re always taken care of and we always know what to do. Granted, when I’m in the midst of worrying about my finances and not sure about what book to read next, it doesn’t always feel like this. But what’s the truth? I’m sitting in a chair and am reading the book I’m reading, so I do know what to do. The boy is under water, and he can’t swim–snatch him up. Reality isn’t complicated. Secondly, our fears are never about what’s happening right here, right now. Rather, they’re always about what could have happened, what might happen next. Byron Katie says, “If you want fear and terror on purpose, get a future.” That is, imagine what will occur even a millisecond from now. You can really scare yourself. But right here, right now? Things are always better than we think they are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

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On Anxiety, Myths, and Divine Timing (Blog #841)

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It’s eleven at night, and I just turned on my “blogging music.” This morning started off slowly–I slept in, ate breakfast, then read over a hundred fifty pages in The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. It’s fabulous, about the idea that life is inherently anxiety-inducing and that myths help us not only make sense of our world, but also alleviate that anxiety. Too much anxiety in your life? You need a different myth, a different viewpoint, a different psychological construct from which to see things.

A different set of glasses.

Honestly, I could have spent the entire day reading. I can’t tell you what a sense of accomplishment and joy I get when I finish an entire book in one day. Alas, this was not to be. For weeks I’ve been telling myself that I’d put down my books and finally do a few things–respond to emails, go to the bank and the post office, shit like that. Well, I finally did these things this afternoon. And whereas I started to give myself a hard time for not doing them sooner, I didn’t because recently I’ve been thinking about divine timing.

I’ll explain.

Byron Katie says that when you argue with reality, you lose–but only one hundred percent of the time. This means that if you think you SHOULD be running errands (and you aren’t) or that you SHOULD HAVE run errands sooner than you did, you’re going to experience stress. Why? Just one simple reason–it’s not the truth. The truth is you’re not running errands, or that you didn’t run them sooner than you did. This is what I mean by divine timing. Things happen when they happen. We can SHOULD and SHOULD HAVE all day long, but that just produces anxiety. This is the myth of I’m not doing things right, the myth of I did something wrong, and the myth of I’m a bad person, I’m a worm.

Going back to divine timing, I can’t tell you the number of times things have shown up in my life at just the right moment. For example, not too long ago I got an unexpected check for nearly three hundred dollars in the mail, the result of one of those silly class-action lawsuit postcards that I fill out now and then (and usually result in a check for $2.87). Well, that three hundred bucks totally saved my ass. The same thing happened over Christmas this last year when I needed to pay some bills but couldn’t work because of my knee injury. Someone bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. Of course, this miraculous timing doesn’t just apply to money. My therapist showed up at just the right time. Books and information continue to show up at just the right time.

One of my points here is–How do you know? That is, how do you know you should have said something or done something sooner–or that you should even do it at all (if you haven’t already)? Having been on the receiving end of multiple (hundreds of) perfectly timed kindnesses, it’s not a stretch for me to think that I can play a part in the producing end of perfectly timed kindnesses in someone else’s life. What I mean is that I can beat myself up for not sending a letter in the mail sooner, but maybe the person getting that letter didn’t NEED it sooner. Maybe they needed it LATER. Likewise, I can (and do) beat myself up for not working more on writing my book(s), but again, perhaps it’s just not time. How will I know it’s time to write my book(s)?

I’ll have my butt in a chair and will be writing them.

It’s that simple.

Gosh, we like to complicate things. I like to complicate things. And not that I’m encouraging procrastination or not listening to your inner nudges to act, but I am suggesting that most of our self-flagellation is just that–self-punishment. As if we won’t get things done unless we constantly berate ourselves. I’m not doing things right. I did something wrong. I’m a bad person, I’m a worm. Please, we need a new myth–the myth of I’m doing things just fine, the myth of I did something right (a lot of things right), the myth of I’m a good person, not a worm.

Living by a new myth, of course, is more than simply changing your perspective or putting on a new pair of glasses. For a myth to really make a difference in your life, you have to internalize it and you have to let it change you. May says, “We seem to think that we can be reborn without ever dying.” This means that our old personality structure must be completely torn up (or torn down) in order for a new one to be planted, take root, and grow. This is why Noah was in the Ark, Jonah was in the whale, and Christ was in the grave. Chaos always precedes order, darkness always precedes light, and death always precedes new life–and change always takes time. For me, this is where the myths are most helpful. Knowing that “destruction comes before creation,” rather than be filled with anxiety whenever my life is falling apart, I can be filled with hope. I think, It’s just a matter of time before things start coming together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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Our Burdens Fall Away (Blog #840)

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It’s ten-thirty at night, and I’m plum tuckered out. Last night I stayed up reading a theory about the mathematics of creation and got so excited thinking about it that it was three in the morning before I finally wound down. (I’m a nerd, I know. But an even bigger nerd had to write the theory, so there’s that.) Then this morning I got up early to help a friend move. But then the stars didn’t align, and they postposed. Well hell, I was already awake, so I made breakfast and did more reading. Then I exercised and read some more. Seriously, y’all, have you tried reading?

It’s great.

What really made me tired, however, was not turning pages. True, I’m a delicate flower, but not THAT delicate. No, what wore me out was mowing. Recently I picked up a couple lawn care gigs and did them both this afternoon. Mowed and weedeated. Maybe this was a mistake, tackling both jobs in one (very hot) day. My lower back sure seemed to think so. Oh well, it’s over now, and I have the entire weekend to recover. This was my logic in working so hard today, that I’d have more time later to relax.

And by relax I mean read.

Recently I finished a book called Rules for the Dance by Mary Oliver, about how to read and write poetry. It’s stunning. For anyone who loves words, whether you’re into poetry or not, I recommend it. Anyway, one of the notes I took from the book was about ballads, which are a particular type of poem and–often–set to music. Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers, for instance. Anyway, if in a ballad there’s a line that repeats itself at the end of every stanza, that’s called a refrain. The line “I can’t help falling in love with you” in Elvis Presley’s song Can’t Help Falling in Love is a good example.

Okay, heres’ the part that interests me–the refrain is sometimes referred to as the burden.

I’ll explain.

Recently I had someone say something that was intended as a joke but hit a nerve with me. A small nerve, mind you, but a nerve nonetheless. And whereas I had a chance to say something about it, I decided to let it go. My therapist says, “You can’t confront all day every day–well, you could because people are full of bad behavior, but that would be exhausting.” My point is that having decided to not say anything about the matter, I was left with it in my head. So for the better part of a day I mentally replayed (repeated) the situation, imagining different outcomes.

I’ve done this so many times with so many different things it’s not even funny. Talk about wearing yourself out. Byron Katie says , “Who is more hurtful: the person who wronged you once or you for reliving it over and over in your head?” I hate this, but whenever I ask myself this question, I always have to answer–I am more hurtful. This is what I mean by the refrain being a burden. People say rude things. They cut us off in traffic. Even worse. In an instant, it’s done with. And yet we rewind and repeat the very worst in our lives. In so doing, we refuse to let the moment pass. Instead, we hold on–we hold grudges.

We punish ourselves.

Eckhart Tolle has a book called The Power of Now, which–if I recall correctly–is largely about the healing power of the present moment. For example, right now it’s quiet. There’s just a faint hum of a florescent light and the clack of my keyboard. I’m tired and my body hurts somewhat, but all the grass and dirt from this afternoon have since been washed away, and even the blisters on my hands have begun to repair themselves. And whereas I could sit here and imagine all sorts of both mildly irritating and actually horrific things that have happened in my past, the fact is that they now only exist in my memory. This is what’s beautiful about this present moment. Every horrific thing is over. Right here, right now, if we don’t repeat them, our burdens fall away. Right here, right now, we begin to heal. Right here, right now, there is grace for us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is progressing as it should.

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Snap! The Job’s a Game (Blog #838)

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This morning I watched a (ten minute) video by intuitive Robert Ohotto in which he suggested something he calls the I Don’t Give a Shit (IDGAS) Detox. The basic concept is that for a week or two you stop giving a shit about whatever it is you give a shit about. If you want to take it a step further, you write down your reactions to not giving a shit. Like, That felt nice to not give a shit about what other people think about my hair, or Maybe I should have given a shit about that noise my car was making–because now it’s broken down on the side of the road. As I understand it, the IDGAS Detox is designed to alert you to how you spend your mental and emotional energy.

Which, incidentally, you only have so much of.

I’ve thought about this a lot today, about not giving a shit. And whereas I’ll spare you all the specific incidents to which I’ve applied the wisdom of IDGAS–or, truth be told, IDGAF–I will include a short list of things I think we could all care less about. Here we go–what’s happening on Facebook, what anyone else is doing (period), whether or not someone else calls or texts you back, what other people think about anything about you, how you compare to others, and (take this one however you like) whether or not you can still get into the same pants you could in high school.

That’s a sex joke, Mom.

As I’ve thought about these things today I’ve realized I spend a lot of time worrying or being concerned about things that really don’t matter. And not that any of this is unusual or directly harmful, but it does affect exactly how much joy I experience from moment to moment, and all that adds up. Robert suggests the IDGAS Detox if you’re feeling exhausted, and I think that’s his point. If you’re getting enough sleep every night and still find yourself tired, it may be because you’re wearing yourself out with all your mental gymnastics. The ones that sound like, Everyone else has it better than I do. They’re so much richer, smarter, and more talented than I am. Or vice versa.

Give it a rest, Nancy.

Give it an IDGAS rest.

This afternoon I saw a chiropractor, a friend of mine, who uses a lot of unconventional (weird) techniques. I’m all about this sort of thing, the mind-body connection. Hell, I’m all about whatever works. My neck and shoulder have been bothering me for over six months now, so at this point I’ll try anything. Well, get this shit. When I walked in the majority of my back was, in his terms, “locked up.” In my terms, it was tense and inflexible. Thirty minutes later, it was much, much better. It was like something had let go. The best part? My friend didn’t have to crack or twist anything or do anything dramatic. Rather–and this is the weird part–he communicated with my unconscious (through muscle testing) to find out WHY my body was so uptight.

Like, “What’s your deal, Lucille?”

One of the tenants of this approach is that for each physical problem, there will be a mental/emotional component. In other words, in most cases, our bodily aches and pains don’t come out of nowhere. And whereas for me it’s tempting to think my neck and shoulder pain have to do strictly with my car accident two years ago and the fact that I’ve been doing a lot of manual labor lately, that’s a bit like thinking an appleseed can flourish into a full-grown apple tree by simply sitting on your coffee table. Of course it can’t. It needs dirt, water, and sunshine. What I’m saying is that for a physical problem to manifest (turn from a seed to a tree) in your body, it needs a particular environment in which to do so. Simply put, your thoughts and emotions are a huge part of that environment.

The good news about this: if you change the environment, you change what’s able to grow there.

According to my friend (and my unconscious), the emotion that’s related to my neck and shoulder pain is jealousy. “It’s probably not a romantic jealousy,” my friend said. Now, maybe this sounds like a bunch of crap. If so, that’s okay. I’ve thought so in similar situations in the past. But today I couldn’t truthfully say, “WHO ME? Jealous?” So instead I said, “I know exactly what kind of jealousy it is–it’s professional. It’s the thought that other people are succeeding at what they want to do and I’m not.”

“So it’s not really about all that manual labor,” my friend said.

“Well, that plays in because I don’t deep-down want to be doing all that manual labor,” I said. “I want to make the money, but I’d rather make it doing something I love.”

This wanting/not wanting, of course, is a recipe for tension both internally and externally.

With my friend’s approach, for each negative emotion that comes up, there’s also a positive one to balance it out or help remedy the situation. In my case, that emotion was delight. As an exercise, you could think jealous thoughts for a minute and see how that feels, then think thoughts of delight and see how that feels. For me, delight feels one hundred times better. When I think of things that delight me, I feel less constriction and more expansion. Freer. This is what I’ve been trying to do since this afternoon. Outwardly the rest of my day was typical–I read a book, mowed my parents’ lawn, took a shower, and began writing. But rather than adopting an attitude of pressure or obligation, I adopted one of fun and enjoyment. One of delight.

As Mary Poppins says, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and–snap!–the job’s a game.”

Getting back to the IDGAS Detox, I think it’s an excellent tool to use for transforming a negative emotion into a positive one. For example, whenever I’ve been tempted this afternoon and evening to be jealous of another person’s body, work, or body of work, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit what anyone else is doing. Likewise, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit if I read as much today as I did yesterday. I don’t give a shit if I mow the lawn perfectly. Consequently, I’ve experienced more joy. (There, that wasn’t so hard.) At the same time–and this is the real gem–I’ve freed up a good bit of mental/emotional energy that, rather than using on things I don’t like, I can now use on things I do. Because I DO give a shit about writing, I DO give a shit about dancing, and I DO give a shit about reaching my highest potential, and these things require A LOT of energy.

My final thought about all this is that when pirate ships are caught in a storm and are “going down,” the crew throws everything overboard that isn’t absolutely necessary–cargo, supplies, anyone who’s not pulling their weight. (Sorry, Petey.) Free of the extra baggage, the ship can now stay afloat. After the storm passes, it can even sail quicker than it did before. This is what discarding negative thoughts and emotions can do for you. This is what discarding negative relationships–with friends, technology, and even your own body–can do for you. It can lighten you up. It can get you to where you’re going faster.

It can turn a job into a game.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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On False Emergencies (Blog #827)

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Last night I hung out with several friends for the Fourth of July. I snapped the above picture of me, my friend Kate, and her son at the party–because all three of us had holiday-inspired shirts on. (No one else did. Lame.) Mine said, “Tastes Like Freedom,” Kate’s said, “Firewerks,” and Kate’s son’s said, “I’m here for the hot dogs.” (Me too, kid, me too.) Anyway, we had a blast (get it, a blast?), but I didn’t get home and crawl in bed until after midnight. And whereas going to bed late isn’t unusual for me, since I also had to get up early this morning to go out-of-town for a wedding, I’ve been dragging ass all day.

The dragging ass part may have to do with my sinuses. Last Sunday I woke up with an infection but ended up kicking it in the butt earlier this week thanks to my adventures in probiotics (that is, sniffing probiotics up my nose). Really, I felt so much better mid-week. Still, I may not have completely turned the corner, since my energy has been low today and I’ve been a little snotty. I’m trying not to worry about it. Things could be worse, I keep telling myself. It’s not the end of the world. Nonetheless, since I don’t travel with my (refrigerated) probiotics, I hit the health food stores this afternoon to buy more supplies. Just to be safe.

We’ll see what happens. Only time will tell.

Other than the probiotics run, I’ve spent most of my out-of-town day going to bookstores. Believe it or not, I only bought one book–about gargoyles. I started to pick up a couple others, but searched the internet and found out I could read them for free through an online library I’m a member of. This is one way I’ve learned to save both money, physical space (in my room), and time (dusting)–using libraries. What a miracle! That being said, I’m currently maxed out the number of books I can check out online, and there’s all this pressure for me to read my butt off this next week so I can return the books completely read. This pressure, of course, is self-induced and what I call a False Emergency. Because the truth is nobody gives a damn if I read those books or not. The earth will keep spinning no matter what I do.

Speaking of False Emergencies, let’s talk about the couple who’s getting married tomorrow. They’re the ones who have been taking dance from me for a while, learning a routine. This evening we met for their final lesson before tomorrow’s performance. And whereas they got all parts of the routine “down,” they didn’t get them all down at at once (in one run-through). Granted, they’ve come a LONG way since they started a few months ago, and they look good. But, like I told them tonight, routines are inherently a funny thing–sometimes you nail them and sometimes you screw them up. Who’s to say what’s going to happen tomorrow? Anyway, that’s my point–I could worry about it, they could worry about it–but regardless, whatever will be, will be.

So don’t worry, be happy right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are surrounded by the light.

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On Freedom (Blog #826)

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Two years ago on July 1 I was in a car accident. It was the death of my Honda Civic Polly. And whereas it wasn’t the death of me, it certainly left it’s mark. (I was rear-ended in the worst way. That’s a sex joke, Mom.) For one thing, my neck continues to hurt. It feels permanently braced. I get a lot of headaches. And whereas I’m working on healing, it’s a process. A process, that’s what the entire accident ordeal was–a process of seeing doctors, talking to insurance agents, and buying a new car.

The new car part is why I’m blogging about all of this now, on July 4th, because it was precisely two years ago today when I first saw, met, and test drove my now car, Tom Collins, whom I love and adore greatly. I remember it like it was yesterday. I pulled up at the car lot on America’s birthday thinking I was about to test drive a different car (a Ford Focus–ick), but the lot owner said, “The SUV we talked about yesterday came in a day early.” Indeed, there on in the middle of the lot sat a Hyundai Sante Fe, doors open, sparkling clean, and blaring one of my favorite songs on the radio–Africa by Toto. Well, I hopped in to go for a spin, and the rest is history. Before I got three blocks away, I knew This is it. Later my dad said, “Marcus, bite the bullet. You won’t be satisfied with anything else.”

Boy was he right. Two years down the road (haha), Tom Collins and I couldn’t be happier. Well, he’d probably be happier if he had new brake pads, but I should be able to take care of that next week. And by “I” I mean my mechanic. But seriously, I enjoy Tom Collins now as much as ever. I absolutely adore his heated seats, power windows, sunroof, and tons of storage space. He’s continues to be simply perfect for me.

All of this to say that earlier today I was contemplating whether or not I was happy or grateful that I was in that car accident, since without it I wouldn’t have acquired Tom Collins, the car that’s taken me to San Francisco and back, to Colorado and back. The car that’s taken me to therapy for the last two years. I thought, Am I GLAD that guy slammed into my bumper and gave me a seemingly permanent crick in my neck? Hum. That’s a good question.

So here’s what I came up with. In addition to giving me Tom Collins, that accident provided me several opportunities. For one thing, it gave me a chance to face my scarcity and talking-about-money issues by dealing with the insurance company of the guy who hit me. (They were asshats, by the way, although very “nice” about it.) For another, it allowed me to accept help from my doctors and caregivers, as well as from my insurance company, who, oddly enough, started covering me the very day of the accident. So, even thought it might sounds like a weird thing to say, yeah, I’m glad I was in that car accident.

Not that I want to repeat it.

It’s weird how we’re often so reluctant to say we’re glad something “bad” happened. It’s like we think we’re inviting trouble, more of the same, if we see the positive side to a difficult situation, so we say things like “not that I want to repeat it” in order to clarify–Hey, Universe, no more car wrecks. I don’t approve of this sort of thing. All of this is superstition. Being grateful for difficult circumstances (or even difficult people) that bring out the best in you doesn’t make them right or wrong or pleasant or fun. It simply means that you rose to an occasion and are happy you were given an occasion to rise to. For me, it’s becoming less and less of a question of whether or not I’m GLAD for the shit things that happen in my life. Why? Because it doesn’t matter whether I’m glad about them or not. Either way, they happen. Except it DOES matter whether or not I’m glad–to me. That is, in this moment I can bitch and moan about that terrible day two years ago and enslave myself. Or I can be glad and set myself free. It’s that simple. I choose to be free.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life doesn’t need us to boss it around.

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