A More Mature Look (Blog #731, Birthday #2)

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Currently it’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m at Starbucks blogging. A friend I haven’t seen in a while just walked over and said I was beginning to get that “older” look. That was how he started our conversation; that was his lead-in. So that felt good. To be fair, he said it looks good on me. What he meant by “it,” I’m not exactly sure. Wrinkles? (Are you saying I’m a good wrinkle wearer? Why thank you!) Recently my aunt’s dermatologist said she tries to avoid the term “age spots.” I guess people (old people) find it offensive. Instead she says “maturity spots.” Yes, I like that better. I don’t have an “older” look; I have a “mature” look.

Words matter.

Today is this blog’s second birthday. (Happy Birthday, Me and My Therapist!) Two years ago today, I wrote my first post. Since then, I’ve written every day. I really will start talking about something else soon, but wow. I just spent the last hour crunching some numbers and using a website to turn my blog into a PDF, and here are some facts. In year one, I wrote 375,441 words, an average of 1,028 words a day. In year two, I slowed down a little, writing 286,930 words, an average of 786 words a day. That’s an overall total of 662,371 words and an average of 907 words a day for the last two years. In PDF form, in 11 point font with no columns (text running all the way across the page), this translates to 1,050 pages for year one and 1,010 for year two, 2,060 pages altogether.

When the blog turned one last year, I went out with friends and deliberately did some things to celebrate. And whereas I went out with friends last night, it wasn’t for the specific purpose of celebrating the blog; it was just a coincidence. I don’t know. Maybe year two of blogging is similar to having your second child; it’s not celebrated in the same way the first one is. When something becomes routine, it’s easy to take it for granted. Still, I’m planning a few things this week in order to on-purpose pat myself on the back for how far I’ve come both in terms of this project and my personal growth. I’m trying to remind myself, No wait. This is a big deal. This is something you can be proud of.

Words matter. This is something I’ve learned during the last two years. The way you talk to yourself matters. Because that’s all I’ve been doing for the last over 600,000 words–talking to myself. That’s all I’m doing now, just sitting down and getting my thoughts out of my head and on paper. In a way, it’s like online journaling. Having a cyber man-diary, if you will. There is one difference, however. Whereas with a journal I might simply spill my thoughts out on to the page (barf!), with this project, in each entry, I make a point to talk myself into a better place. Internally I tell myself, Here is the ugly truth. Now how can we change our perspective about it? 

Lately a theme on the blog has been practice, the idea that if you just keep showing up to something–a blog, a dance class, a relationship–you’re likely to make progress. Napoleon Hill said, “Failure cannot cope with persistence.” And whereas I’ve thought a lot about the fact that my persistently blogging is making me a better writer, I haven’t considered until today that my persistently talking myself into a better place is making me a better self-talker. That is, we all have an internal narrator who provides a dialogue about what’s going on in our lives. Maybe yours says, “You’re too fat” or “You’re inadequate.” I know mine does at times. But I’m happy to report that more and more my internal narrator says, “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful–period” and “You are more than enough.” Occasionally friends have mentioned it must be nice to have thoughts like these. Well, yes, it is. But these thoughts have been practiced. Through years of self-help material, work with my therapist, and especially this blog, these thoughts have been invited in and encouraged to stay.

You don’t need to change; your thoughts do.

Sometimes I think you have to give up. What I mean is that our society, to its detriment I think, is hyper-focused on youth, beauty, and success by the world’s standards. We’re told that getting old sucks, so avoid it at all costs, and that what matters is on the outside, not the inside. And whereas most of us when pressed would say, “That’s bullshit, utter bullshit,” it doesn’t stop us from spending our hard-earned money on creams and lasers that claim to reverse the signs of aging or buying spandex to do for our skin what it can no longer do for itself. I’m not saying you should let yourself go. But I am saying that at some point the whole charade becomes ridiculous. Morrie Schwartz, the subject of the book Tuesdays with Morrie, said, “The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say, if the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it.” Think about it, for decades–decades!–you tell yourself you’re too this, too that. You convince yourself that YOU need to change, rather than realizing that it’s your thoughts that do.

Words matter.

Going forward with this blog, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’ve told a few people (and now I’m telling you) that my goal is to reach a thousand days in a row. God willing and the creek don’t rise, that should happen just before this calendar year comes to an end. And since that’s close to a year from now, it seems reasonable to me to blog every day for another 365 days. That will be three years total. Three years–that was good enough for Jesus’s ministry, so it might as well be good enough for mine. Regardless of when it happens, I know at some point I’ll stop blogging and focus on other projects. There’s a saying that once you reach the other side of the river, you set your raft aside. That is, the important thing about this blog is not that I have reached or will reach a certain number of posts or words, but rather that it’s been a vehicle for getting myself to another place internally–a better-feeling, kinder-self-talking place.

A more mature place.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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If You Slip on a Banana Peel (Blog #725)

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When I was a kid, in 1987, there was a commercial for HI-C, the juice box, that featured Harvey Korman and Tim Conway. I didn’t know it was them at the time, I just thought it was funny. I must have watched it a hundred times. In the commercial, Korman plays Mrs. Appleseed, the mother of Johnny Appleseed, who’s played by Conway (on his knees like his famous character Dorf), and is excited about the new HI-C juice box, which he claims is better than regular apple juice. Mrs. Appleseed, however, doesn’t agree, hitting her son over the head and knocking him backwards when he ask her to buy HI-C. But in characteristic Conway fashion, he pops right back up. Then, when threatened with another swat, he falls back down on his own.

After being sick all day yesterday with sinus issues, my body did that thing last night where it starts feeling better in the middle of the night and, consequently, won’t fall asleep. Today, I’ve been in the middle. I haven’t felt like a million bucks today, but I have felt–um–functional. Congested, but not miserable. Tired, but not wiped out. “Maybe you’re headed in the right direction,” my mom said. Here’s hoping. This has been so back-and-forth lately that I’m starting to feel like Tim Conway in the above commercial. Fearful of being swatted back down, I’m tempted to just stay on the floor.

And drink a juice box.

Despite my frustrations with my sinuses, today has been delightful. This afternoon I went to the gym with my dad and aunt and hit a personal milestone since having my knee surgery three months ago tomorrow–I ran two miles (on the treadmill). Oh my gosh, y’all, I broke a sweat and everything. Hopefully, it just gets better from here. After the gym, we went back to my aunt’s house and ate a late lunch/early dinner with my other aunt. We shot the shit. I drank a cup of coffee. Then my dad and I went to the gas station and Walmart. These memories, I realize, aren’t grand. However, knowing that time with our loved ones is always limited, I hold them fondly. More and more, in my book, it takes less and less to qualify as a good day.

Last night I watched the movie Analyze This. It’s a comedy about a mob boss (Robert DeNiro) who sees a therapist (Billy Crystal) for anxiety attacks. They’re keeping him from killing people. And getting an erection.

No, not at the same time.

There’s a scene in the movie where DeNiro says to Crystal, “No one can find out I’m seeing you. They’ll think I’m crazy.” Oh my gosh, unfortunately, this is true. My therapist says it’s “worse” with middle-aged and older people, but that society as a whole believes seeing a therapist is a sign of weakness. Like, I couldn’t do this on my own. But in my experience, seeing a therapist means that you’re strong. Because you’re willing to fight for yourself. Plus, we all need help, support, and skills from time to time, and god knows our culture does a piss-poor job of educating its members about emotions, boundaries, relationships, and trauma (which we all experience by virtue of being alive). Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. In my opinion, there’s no shame in taking dance lessons because you don’t know how to dance, and there’s no shame in seeing a therapist because you don’t know how to navigate (insert your problem here).

One of the things I appreciate about the movie is that it makes light of topics that are really quite serious. For example, when DeNiro and his thugs keep barging in on Crystal’s private life (like Bob does with his therapist in What About Bob?), Crystal says, “Your boundaries are terrible.” In real life, people with bad boundaries cause us stress. In the movies, they make us laugh. Or, in the sentiment of a famous Mel Brooks quote, if I slip on a banana peel, that’s a tragedy; if YOU slip on a banana peel, that’s a comedy.

I’ve been thinking about this banana peel idea all day long. Call it human nature, but if someone else gets swatted down repeatedly by life, I can see the humor in it. If it happens to ME, well, that’s a different matter. But today I’ve been especially aware that, from the right twisted viewpoint, the life circumstances that I push so hard against are actually funny. Independent, thirty-eight-year-old lives with his parents. Colon-cleansing health-nut can’t get well to save his life. Personally, taking this comedic view makes my circumstances more bearable. Not that I hold this “isn’t it hilarious that I feel like ass?” viewpoint every minute of every day. My therapist says, “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” That is, if you can’t see the humor in your challenges, maybe you just need more time. (Or maybe you don’t have a sense of humor.)

I hope it’s not the latter. A good sense of humor is a life-saver.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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On One’s Value and Worth (Blog #721)

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Tonight’s blog needs to be super fast. I spent this afternoon and evening at a friend’s house surfing the web (cowabunga, dude), then went to the library to get a book my therapist recently recommended, then went to the mall to buy a thank-you card. The day got away from me. Now it’s almost ten, and Dad and I need to go work out (it’s our thing now) earlier than normal because he’s got to get up early in the morning for an appointment.

The book my therapist recommended has to do with “knowing your worth,” which she says is my biggest hangup. That is, according to her, I don’t fully recognize my talents and abilities, and, therefore, my value. So we’ll see what the book says. My therapist says it’s technically written for and directed toward females but that I can just change the pronouns. Sounds easy enough; that’s pretty popular these days. Plus, it won’t be the first time I’ve been called “her.” (Gay men often refer to each other in the feminine, Mom.) All this being said, I do think I’ve made progress in this area. Recently someone, upon hearing what I charge for a private dance lesson, immediately tried to get me to drop my rate. They said, “I know you’re worth it, but,” then proceeded to talk about what they are accustomed to paying for a dance lesson (less than what I charge). I told them I was open to thinking about it, but that my gut agreed with them–I’m worth my rate (no but).

When I told my therapist about this situation, she said the universe was testing me. Like, Am I going to believe in my value, or am I going to keep selling myself short, like I have for years? Apparently this is the deal whenever you desire something better for your life–before you can have it, the universe needs to find out how serious you are about wanting it. Because there will always be people who want you to settle for less. Few people in life are going to say, “Here, take more of my money; you’re worth it.” So that’s our job, to determine our value, to decide what we’re worth in terms of our jobs and relationships, to set our boundaries and stick to them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Miracles happen."

On Ups and Downs (Blog #720)

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This morning I had coffee with my friend Marla, and she mentioned that I’ve been “very loyal” to this blog. “For sure, I’m committed,” I said. Then Marla said, “If someone wanted to torture you, they could lock you in a room for a day so you couldn’t write.”

NOOOOOOOO.

Later when Marla asked what I was doing this afternoon and I said, “Not a damn thing,” she said, “I can’t imagine that.” I said, “I’ve had a lot of practice.” I guess Marla’s a go-go-goer like I was for most of my life. Of course, things have been, um, more laid-back these last two years. My calendar is full of empty days, days without a schedule. Sometimes I tell people I’m preparing for retirement. And whereas not having a million things to do occasionally bothers me, I think I’ve finally learned to enjoy my freedom.

You can get used to anything.

Lately, thanks to a meditation practice I recently started, I’ve noticed how much tension I carry in my body and soul on a moment-to-moment basis. I’ve said before that I’m often nervous or anxious, anything but calm and relaxed. My physical body mirrors this. My shoulders are usually tight or raised. It’s like part of me is always on alert, ready for a fight. Perhaps defensive would be a good way to describe how I frequently feel. A lot of times I fantasize about telling people off or “having my day in court.” I’m assuming people who have resolved their inner and outer tensions don’t do this. (I could be wrong.) My point is that when you live this way for years and years (decades), you don’t think of it as abnormal because–for you–it’s the way life is. But I’m learning that just as you can get used to tension, you can get used to whatever the opposite of tension is.

After having an abundantly good day and feeling like a million bucks (or at least a hundred thousand bucks) yesterday, I’ve felt sick again today. Not awful, but not great either. The Mucus came back. And whereas I’m really getting tired of this roller coaster of a sinus infection (up one day, down the next), I’m glad my body hasn’t completely given in (down every day). Plus, I had the thought that life is often like the movie Groundhog Day. That is, perhaps when we live the same day or circumstance over and over again, it’s because we still have something to learn from it. For example, two of the days in the last week that I’ve woken up with a head full of mucus, I’d had ice cream the night before. Maybe this is something I need to take note of.

Eat ice cream in the morning.

But seriously, there’s always something more to learn. And yes, I hate that. I really wish I could check “healthy sinuses” off my to-do list. But we all have those things in our lives that continue to stretch us, to teach us patience, kindness, or compassion. Or simply how to accept this present moment, which without question is different than the one before. This is something I’ve been learning as I’ve been meditating on tension and paying particular attention to my physical aches and pains–nothing is constant. Even pain isn’t constant. Yes, I know that for some people it doesn’t go away, but it still shifts. One minute it’s hot and throbbing, the next minute it’s cold and stiff. Pain, like everything else in life, is a roller coaster.

The truth is everything in life is impermanent. Don’t like what you’re going through? It’ll change. LIKE what you’re going through? It’ll change. As loyal as I’ve been to the this blog, there will come a day when it will end. There will come a day when my sinus infections will end, even if it’s when I do. Because I will end, just as you will. Not to be morbid, but it’s the truth. Everything that has a beginning, has an ending. This includes creative projects, health problems, human beings, and even universes. Perhaps the best we can do while we are here is to enjoy this ride–with its inevitable ups and downs, delights and terrors, and moments of tension and release.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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On Being Under Pressure (Blog #716)

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

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perfection is ever-elusive.

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On Cutting Your Losses (Blog #714)

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A few weeks ago I filled a small bowl full of water and pink Himalayan sea salt so I could dip my elbow in it. I read online it could help psoriasis. Laugh if you want to, but the psoriasis on my elbow went away. Granted, I was trying a number of things–when it comes to my health I like the shotgun approach–but who’s to say the pink sea salt didn’t help? Anyway, since the problem disappeared, that little bowl of salt water has simply sat on my bathroom counter. Well, I guess the water evaporated, and, y’all, the coolest thing happened. The salt deposited itself around the inside and outside of the bowl like frosting. And whereas it’s just a minor thing, I think it’s beautiful, this little art project that slowly and steadily took shape.

Slowly and steadily, that seems to be a theme for me lately, in terms of my writing, in terms of my knee rehab, and more. Ugh. Things take forever here on earth. Nothing happens as fast as you want it to. So many days it feels like you’re going nowhere. But then one day you wake up and your psoriasis is gone or there’s gorgeous salt-covered bowl in your bathroom. You think, I’ll be damned. When did THAT happen?

When I woke up this morning, I felt like crud. My sinus junk was as bad as it’s been in over a year. But then I got up, got around, and took a shower and felt better, almost human. A fresh batch of the probiotic powder (L. Sakei) that’s always helped in the past arrived in the mail today, so I’m hoping it will help turn things around over the next day or two. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably cry. I’m trying to not think about it, to just take this one day at a time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

This afternoon a small miracle occurred. A couple weeks ago I started reading a 700-page book about neuroscience and why humans behave the way they do. I got through about a hundred pages. And whereas I found the information interesting, I also found it laborious. Then today when I picked the book back up, despite my best efforts to concentrate, my eyes kept glossing over. I thought, This is so fucking boring. Why would I want to slug through 600 more pages of this crap? So I put it down–for good. That’s right, I gave myself permission to not complete something–not by default but on purpose. This is huge, as I tend to hold a certain amount of guilt over books I didn’t finish years ago. (I can still see their covers in my head.) But seriously, if the author couldn’t make their topic interesting in a hundred freakin’ pages, I can’t take all the blame for being bored and wanting to do something else with my life.

After I put the book away (be gone, boring book!) I started another one by Bill Bryson, about Australia. My friend and fellow writer Tom told me about it. Holy crap, y’all, I was laughing out loud within the first five pages. Then a movie stub fell out of the back of the book that was dated September 13, my birthday. So between the laughter and this coincidence, I thought, Okay, I’ve made the right decision. Of course, I didn’t need these “signs” to let me know that. My gut had been barking at me for the last twenty pages of that boring book to put it down. But I kept thinking, I’ve already started. I should finish this.

Bullshit.

Sometimes you just have to walk away. My mom did this today while on hold with some company. After fifteen minutes of waiting, she hung up. “That’s enough,” she said. And whereas part of me was appalled (because you should finish what you started), another part of me was in awe. After all, I’d never suggest that someone stay in a bad relationship simply because they’ve invested so much time in it. I’d say, “Cut your losses, get the hell out.” So why can’t that wisdom be applied to any bad relationship–with a book, a phone call, whatever?

Be gone, bad relationship!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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The Slow Grow (Blog #712)

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Things that happened today–

1. I felt better

After two days of feeling crummy, this morning I woke up feeling normal. I credit the miracle probiotic (L. Sakei), which is found in kimchi (or sold online as a powder) and that I started using yesterday. I know it’s weird, swabbing the inside of my nostrils with fermented cabbage juice, but in twenty years of dealing with sinus infections, it’s the only thing I’ve found that reliably works. So who cares if it’s weird? I’m grateful for it. Not only has this little critter (probiotics are living creatures, after all) solved my sinus problems, it’s also given me a great deal of hope. That is, I’ve been reminded that even longstanding problems can–one day–be solved.

2. I saw my therapist

This morning I saw my therapist and–because I was curious–asked her about something I heard on a podcast recently. The podcast was about a poker player who was really good at what he did. That is, he could read people. Consequently, he’d come to the conclusion that most people were shitty. So I asked my therapist, “You’ve got a good gut. You can read people. What do you think about humanity?”

My therapist said, “I think most people take the easiest way forward and choose to not really take a look at themselves or their maladaptive patterns. Unfortunately, social media and western culture give people every bit of encouragement to indulge their worst behaviors. But I have hope in general that people are capable of change and growth.” Then she paused and added, “And all that shit is hard to do.”

3. I spent time with my family

After therapy, I picked my aunt up, who’d been out-of-town visiting two of our extended family members that I personally hadn’t seen until today in probably fifteen years. Anyway, the four of us met to eat and catch up. Oh my gosh, y’all, one of my relatives (whom I call an aunt but is technically a cousin twice removed) said I sound like my grandpa when I laugh. Talk about making my day. My grandpa’s no longer alive, but it was the perfect reminder that some things, certain connections and relationships, go beyond life and death.

4. I got stuff done before the sun went down

After I dropped my aunt off at her house, I came home and started being productive doing laundry. Then I sat down to do this blog. Now I’m almost finished, and there’s still a little light outside. This almost never happens. Usually I don’t get started working until late at night, and then it’s go-go-go. And whereas I’m okay with this pattern, my body often falls into bed completely exhausted. So perhaps tonight I can adopt a more leisurely pace and get stuff done without crashing later. More and more, I’m learning there’s no reason to wear yourself out. You can take your time and still make progress. My therapist calls this “the slow grow.”

5. I learned a new saying

While my aunt and I were driving home this afternoon, she said something I’ve never heard before, that life’s pretty good if you don’t weaken. To me this means that life is amazing. It’s filled with long-waited-for relief, kindness, laughter, and connections that last beyond the grave. At the same time, life’s not for sissies. More times than any of us would like, we have to hang in and, as Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day. Hell, for one more year (or decade). Often our progress seems to be two steps forward and one step back. The slow grow. That’s fine. There’s no hurry here. What’s important is that life persists, that we persist.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to become who you were meant to be, it's absolutely necessary to shed your old skin. Sure it might be sad to say goodbye--to your old phone, to your old beliefs, anything that helped get you this far--but you've got to let go in order to make room for something new.

"

The Puzzle of Our Lives (Blog #711)

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I was grouchy all day yesterday, critical of myself and others. This is often the first sign that I’m not feeling well, that something is off in my body. Sure enough, I woke up sick this morning. And whereas it wasn’t full-blown awful, it was the start of another sinus infection. Shit, I thought, I just dealt with this two weeks ago. Like feeling sorry for yourself makes any difference. Life does what it does.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor and massage therapist, who both worked on my shoulders, where I apparently have a pinched nerve. Thankfully, I think whatever they did helped. The random pains I’ve been feeling haven’t been coming as fast and furious since I left their office. “Come back later this week,” my chiropractor said. “Let’s get this done and over with.”

Let’s get this done and over with. And all god’s people said Amen. Along these lines, after I left the chiropractor’s office, I ordered more of the probiotic powder I use to help my sinus infections (online) and bought some more kimchi (at a grocery store), which I also use to help my sinus infections. (What I had at home had expired.) As these two products have worked reliably in the past, I plan on hitting them hard for the next few days, in addition to eating well and trying (trying) to get plenty of rest. Fingers crossed. Let’s get this done and over with.

I spent this evening at the local library. I’ve been meaning for almost a year now to go back and re-read all my blog posts, and since I’m coming up on two solid years of blogging, I figured now was a good time to start. Oh my gosh, y’all, I talk a lot. Tonight I re-read forty-two blog posts (in no particular order), and it took me just under three hours. So this project’s going to take a while. But already it’s been the best thing, a reminder of my good and bad days, the people I love and love not-so-much, and where and how I’ve grown. Every day I sit down at this computer and am literally two feet from the screen. Then, it’s one post at a time, one day at time. My point is that it’s easy to lose perspective, to get so close to your own life that you don’t see what’s happening. So I’m looking forward to standing back and getting a bird’s-eye view of these last two years.

It’s important, I think, to get some distance from yourself every now and then. In the midst of a problem–a simple sinus infection, let’s say–it’s easy to hyper-focus on whatever is bothering you and lose sight of the bigger picture, to forget that our hurts and hangups are often only one piece of the puzzle of our lives. This is the benefit of journaling. When you put your life on a page, it automatically creates some space between you and your internal narrative. Likewise, a good (objective) friend or therapist can offer a different perspective from you own, one that’s probably more accurate, one you might like better. So often I think of myself as sickly and weak, but my therapist says, “From my viewpoint, you’re young, healthy, and strong.”

“Um, did you say I was young?” I reply.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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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)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

On Being Productive Enough (Blog #709)

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Well shit. Tonight is daylight savings. And whereas I’m thrilled about there being more sunshine in my life, I’m not thrilled about losing an hour of sleep, especially since I’m getting up early tomorrow to teach a swing dance workshop. That being said, it’s fabulous to be employed, so I’ll set my alarm and soldier through like the adult that I am. I can always sleep in on Monday. Still, it’s eleven now, basically midnight, so I need to finish this lickety-split and start winding down.

So far it’s been a wonderful weekend. Last night (Friday), I had dinner with a friend then went to see a local (kids) production of The Wizard of Oz. At dinner I had my first cup of coffee in over two months, since Christmas Day, the day before my knee surgery. I quit because I was really overdoing it, drinking caffeine all day then wondering why I wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep. Anyway, my cup of joe was fabulous, and I managed to limit myself. No refills.

Let’s say this together–“I am capable of moderation.”

This afternoon I hung out with my friend Justin. The weather today was gorgeous, so we went for a long walk downtown by the river. As per usual, we discussed all things deep and shallow. After our walk, we grabbed a quick dinner, then Justin took off to other plans. Then I went to help another friend with a television remote control problem and ended up learning about a technology called CES, which allows a device that’s connected to your television through an HDMI cable (like Apple TV or a DVD player) to turn your television on or off. That was the problem, the remote was turning the television off, but then the television was coming back on (because Apple TV was telling it to).

Some electronic devices are so bossy.

Since my friend doesn’t use Apple TV anymore, we simply unplugged it, and that solved the problem. But there’s a lesson here somewhere. Something about how we give some people the power to turn us on or turn us off, how we let certain others push our buttons and get us all riled up when we could just unplug them.

Bye, Felicia.

This weekend I’ve broken a lot of my personal rules. In addition to having coffee last night, I also had dessert–white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, which is the next best thing to live-in lover as far as I’m concerned but is also loaded with calories. Then tonight after my friend and I fixed their remote control problem, we went to Braum’s and I had a chocolate malt. Again, it was basically orgasmic, and fattening. Now I’m considering breaking another rule. Since I’m pressed for time, I’ve almost convinced myself to skip my knee rehab exercises for the first time since surgery. Surely that’ll be okay.

Surely.

The last time I spoke to my therapist, she talked about my knee injury. “That was seriously rando,” she said. (That’s short for random, Mom.) Then she added, “If I had to guess, I’d say that happened because the universe wants you to slow the fuck down.” This was said just after we’d discussed how much I should be pushing myself–to get better, to write more often, to be productive. “You’re productive enough,” she said. So I’m trying to let that sink in, the idea that it’s okay to slow down, slow way down, that it’s good and necessary to break your own rules occasionally because–hello!–there are no rules here. Life, it seems, is meant for being lived in the moment, not from a calendar or rule book.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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