On Being Done (Blog #693)

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This morning when I rolled out of bed, I noticed that one of my sheets was torn. Right there in the middle of my mattress, there was a hole you could have thrown a basketball through. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed SOMEONE had a really good time last night. Alas, this was not the case. Rather, apparently my sheet had worn thin and couldn’t hold itself together any longer. It’s okay, I thought, I’ve been there plenty of times myself. Anyway, despite the fact that I had other plans for my afternoon, I ended up washing sheets (I have sensitive skin that requires everything I come in contact with be cleaned in “free and clear” detergent) then re-making my bed. Ugh. Sometimes our choices are made for us.

Since I was already doing laundry, I decided to DO LAUNDRY this afternoon. I’m going out-of-town tomorrow, so it worked out. Now I’ll have underwear options for the weekend. (That’s always nice.) While the laundry was going on, I knitted, something I haven’t done in weeks. Just another session or two, and I’ll be done with my very first project–a pot holder! I can’t tell you how good this felt, being productive. I really got on a roll–checked the fluids in my car, home-made my own windshield washer fluid (thanks for the recipe, Mom), even cleaned my white sneakers. My therapist says it takes “a real hooker” to pull off white sneakers!

Insert look of confidence here.

This evening I went to Starbucks to use their internet to order more sensitive-skin items online–six bars of soap, some shaving cream. Ugh. You don’t think about all the things you rub on your body until you have to restock almost all of them. Hopefully this will do it for a while. After finishing my online shopping, I worked on someone else’s blog. (Sometimes I get paid to write.) Now it’s after ten, and I’m working on mine, rushing through it because Dad and I need to go to the gym soon.

Something about being productive. There’s an idea in mysticism and ancient wisdom that we don’t “do” things. Rather, we are “being done.” I wish I were. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) But seriously, take breathing, for instance. Is it something you decide to do, or does it just happen? And if it just happens, then couldn’t the argument be made that everything just happens? More and more, I think so.

Byron Katie says, “Decisions make themselves.” To me this means that you can fret and worry and plan and put off, but at some point you simply find yourself doing the laundry, sitting down to write, or going to the gym (or not). The ego likes to take credit for everything, of course, so we tell ourselves, Look at what I did or didn’t do today. I’m so great. I’m a real piece of crap. I’m not saying we’re not responsible for our actions, just that all the mental chatter around our actions is unnecessary. For example, I often worry that my irritated skin should be healing or that I should be working on a novel, but I could just as easily worry that I’m not at this very moment taking a breath. Either way, without my planning it, at some point I do–take a breath, feel better, sit down to write (or not). But is it because I worried first? No, I don’t think so. Sometimes our choices are made for us. Better said, sometimes it’s simply time to do whatever it is you’re doing right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's really good news to find out that the world isn't as scary as you thought it was."

 

Another Pair of Eyes (Blog #689)

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Each night for the last week I’ve been watching the Netflix series Russian Doll. It’s fascinating (and I haven’t finished yet, so don’t tell me how it ends). Anyway, there was a great line in last night’s episode (season one, episode six). Then this morning while scrolling through my Facebook memories, I unearthed three lovely quotes that I shared long before this blog started. Therefore, I’ve decided today’s musings shall be quote-inspired (and there’s nothing you can do about it). So without further ado–

1. From Russian Doll

Okay, here’s the set up. The main character, Nadia, and her friend Alan are visiting Nadia’s mentor, Ruth, a therapist, and Nadia is trying to get Alan to see Ruth professionally. However, Alan is terrified of therapists; they’re his biggest fear. Something is said about how Nadia’s mother once destroyed all the mirrors in their house, and Alan says, “Why?” Ruth says, “Reflection, proof of existence, another pair of eyes. That’s why therapists are important. Without them, we are very unreliable narrators of our own stories.”

We are very unreliable narrators of our own stories. Amen. So many times I’ve thought that I was doing poorly, and my therapist has reminded me that from almost anyone else’s perspective, I wasn’t. Likewise, so many times I’ve explained away another’s poor behavior, and my therapist has been there to remind me about my personal worth and how to have and enforce good boundaries. Another pair of eyes. Sure, I have friends who do this–provide a different perspective–but I’ve found it invaluable to have a less partial perspective, one that comes from someone who doesn’t approach me or my relationships with a bias or stake in the game.

2. From Eckhart Tolle

Here’s a quote I shared in 2012, from Tolle’s A New Earth. I guess technically it’s two quotes put together. Anyway–“Whenever tragic loss occurs, you either resist or you yield. … If the shutters are closed, the sunlight cannot come in.” I love this, the quote, not the actual practice of surrendering or yielding when something terrible happens. Letting go and admitting I’m not in control is one of the hardest things I ever try to do. I’d much rather dig my heels in, try to fix things. But some things aren’t fixable. In terms of the part about the closed shutters, the picture I get is of someone with their eyes squeezed tight, so afraid of terrible things that they’re unwilling to take another look at the world around them. But what if we opened our eyes, opened our hearts to another perspective? Maybe there’s some good here.

3. From Albert Einstein

This quote is one I shared in 2010 and says, “The most important decision we ever make is whether we believe we live in a friendly universe or a hostile universe.” Wow, talk about the importance of perspective. Personally, I believe we live in a friendly universe. However, I’m the first to admit that I often act as if I believe we live in a hostile universe. That is, whenever I’m sick or broke or something terrible happens, I take it as a personal affront, a hostile attack. And yet so many times the terrible things in my life have turned out to be the most helpful things, the things that taught me and grew me the most, the things that put me in touch with my own good heart. So even when I’m frustrated because it feels like somebody up there has put a “kick me” sign on my back, I try to remember, This is a friendly universe. That means even if I can’t see it yet, there has to be some good here somewhere.

4. From my man Joseph Campbell

This last quote is one I shared in 2013. (JC and I go way back.) It says, “I always feel uncomfortable when people speak about ordinary mortals because I’ve never met an ordinary man, woman, or child.” How perfect is that? This quote reminds me, again, to shift my perspective, to remember that all of us are truly wonders, capable of great love and far-reaching deeds. Granted, society beats this out of us. We beat this out of each other. We tell each other and ourselves that we’re lacking, real pieces of shit, worms. But maybe there’s some good here. Maybe there’s a lot of good here. Maybe we should take a look at ourselves with another pair of eyes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your story isn’t about your physical challenges.

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On Enjoyment and Being Worthy (Blog #685)

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Today started off well. I had errands to run, so I got up early. I had a lovely breakfast. When I left the house, the sun was shining. (I love the sun.) Then I had some time to kill, so I finished (finished!) yesterday’s paperwork. Then I went to a coffee shop and read a book for a couple hours. (I love reading.) For whatever reason, I delighted in all of this. Lately the idea of enjoyment has been on my mind, and I’ve been trying to soak more of it out of my everyday routine.

I’ll explain.

Most of the time, I’m going, going, going, always thinking about what’s next. For example, sometimes when I eat breakfast and finish everything on my plate, I get up to put my dish and utensils away before I’m done drinking my tea or coffee. I have this inner mantra that constantly sounds like, What else can I DO? Of course, this is a good way to be hyper productive. America loves that. However, it’s a terrible way to relax, since this thinking necessarily leads to never being able to slow down. Another consequence of this mentality is that it always feels like life is something to be enjoyed LATER. I end up thinking, I’ll be happy WHEN (when I put the dishes away, when I’m healthier, when I have more money, when I’m in a relationship).

Frustrated with my own logic, today I tried something different. At breakfast, I forced myself to leave my dirty dishes on the table until I finished my hot tea. Sipping it slowly, I thought, I like tea. Then instead of pacing throughout the house while brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush, I stood still, closed my eyes, and thought, This is kind of fun; it tickles my tonsils. This continued into the afternoon. Not that I was stupid happy over everything, but I purposefully took time to enjoy the things I normally take for granted or rush through in order to finish–feeling the sun on my skin, listening to Come On, Eileen on my stereo, reading my book. It was fabulous.

Then something happened.

This afternoon I went back to my dermatologist to get the results of my skin patch test. Two days ago they plastered 74 “common household ingredients” to my back to see if my skin would react to them, and today was the moment of truth. (I’ll try to keep this brief.) The good news is that I had ZERO reactions rated as 3, the worst. I did, however, have one reaction rated as 2 (to Thimerosal) and three reactions rated as 1 (to iodopropynyl butylcarbamate, dimethylaminopropylamine, and peppermint oil). And whereas I’ve been all worked up about finding out my skin allergies, I actually took it pretty well. I thought, That’s not so bad. Then my dermatologist said it was so bad. Actually, she said, “It’s sort of a lot.” But then she said, “But not for someone who has rashes [I assumed she was talking about me]. This morning I had a lady who was allergic to 18 things [18!].”

Here’s a picture of my back when they removed the patches. The red spots are difficult to see. I go back in two days to see if I’ve had any delayed reactions. “But wait, there’s more.”

My dermatologist set me up with a supposed-to-be-handy-dandy phone app that keeps track of my allergies and tells me whether or not a particular product (shampoo, washing detergent, deodorant) has one of my no-no ingredients in it. However, when I came home and started scanning barcodes, I discovered that a lot of what I use isn’t currently in the app’s database. Oh well, I thought, I’ll read the ingredients myself. But that ended up being a bitch because some products don’t list their ingredients, and the no-no ingredients often go by, oh, three dozen other names. (Shit.) And another frustrating thing–when the app does identify a problem product (like my mouthwash, for example), it doesn’t say why it’s a problem. That is, it doesn’t say whether or not the issue is one of my four allergens, an allergen that’s similar that goes by a different name, or what. Consequently, I now have a bathroom counter full of products I may or may not be able to use without my skin freaking out.

If you see anything you want, come and get it.

Overwhelmed by all this information, I took a nap earlier. Having rested, I feel better. For one thing, I’ve only had ONE major skin rash this last year. And whereas it was awful, it got better when I changed my laundry detergent. For another, my allergies are three out of four mild, and the one that is moderate (Thimerosal, otherwise known as mercury) isn’t used in many things (other than vaccines, thermometers, and some antifungals and cosmetics). Granted, the mild allergens are used in many things, but we live in a world where there are tons of alternative natural options, and surely I can only benefit from finding out what they are and using them.

As I said yesterday, I can do hard things.

Another thing that’s been on my mind today is the word worthy. I prefer the word worthy over the word deserve. That is, I don’t think as humans we really DESERVE anything–good health, money, praise and adoration, a loving relationship. But I do believe we are all WORTHY of these things. Anyway, the word worthy came up while I was thinking about enjoyment, my thought being that we are all WORTHY to enjoy anything we want–a cup of hot tea, the sun on our skin, a good book–even if everything else in our life isn’t perfect. For me, that means that I can enjoy my book even if my shoulder hurts while I’m reading it. It means I can enjoy my dermatologist (love her) even if I don’t like the news she delivers. It means I can enjoy my dinner (I just ate a burger patty and a sweet potato) even if I don’t know what shampoo I’ll be using tomorrow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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I Can Do Hard Things (Blog #684)

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What to talk about?

After we discovered multiple leaks under our kitchen sink a couple days ago, yesterday my dad called a plumber, who came by late last night. Then he, or rather someone else he called, came by this morning and fixed everything. And not that it’s about me, but the plumber said my efforts to patch a particular copper pipe with putty (say that five times fast) could have worked had the line been drained and completely dry. “They claim that stuff works on a wet surface, but it doesn’t,” he said.

So much for truth in advertising!

It’s probably good my efforts didn’t work, since there were also two other leaks, one of which I knew about and one of which I didn’t. Anyway, all three leaks have been taken care of, and it didn’t break the bank. Phew. Now all that’s left to do is replace one piece of rotten wood underneath the sink and reattach a couple other pieces of wood under the cabinets. Perfect project for a rainy day.

And god knows there’s plenty of those in the forecast.

Several months ago I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. And whereas it was exhausting, I absolutely loved it. Not only did I learn a lot and have a ton of fun, I met some darling people, several of whom I’m still in touch with. Anyway, let’s talk about magnets. While I was working backstage I wanted to buy a show magnet as a souvenir, since I have a show magnet collection, and I try to add to it whenever I see a Broadway play or musical. (Some shows don’t sell magnets. Harrumph. I’m talking at you, Cabaret.) Unfortunately, The Wizard of Oz didn’t have magnets to sell, since they were on backorder.

I wish I could tell you I didn’t lose sleep over this.

Okay, fast forward to recently, when I asked one of my friends who works backstage for the tour (Kelsey) if she would send me a magnet. “You bet,” she said. Well, I went to the mailbox today, and there it was! Plus, Kelsey surprised me with a Wizard of Oz Tour ball cap. Y’all, I can’t tell you how excited I was (and am) about this. The last few days I’ve been discouraged by life in general (too many rainy days), but this kind gesture picked me right up. Not only do I love, love, love getting to add to my magnet collection (which, other than books is my only collection), the magnet and hat have sent me over the moon because of my personal connection to the show. All day I’ve been thinking, Life ain’t so bad!

Thanks again, Kelsey!

I spent this afternoon at the library doing paperwork. I can’t tell you how badly I didn’t want to and how much I futzed around trying to put it off. But then I finally sat down and got started. Do one thing at a time, I told myself. Three hours later, I was 90 percent done. Now my goal is to do the rest tomorrow. Having come this far, the last 10 percent doesn’t scare me. Plus, as my friend Bonnie is constantly reminding me, I can do hard things. At this point, I’m actually looking forward to checking “paperwork” off my to-do list.

I’ve touched on this a number of times lately, but it occurs to me again that just getting started is a HUGE thing. This last weekend I was all worked up about a writing project, then Monday I was all worked up about getting patch tested at the dermatologist’s office, then today I was all worked up about the paperwork. But now the writing project is done, and the patch testing and the paperwork will be done tomorrow. I don’t know, as I was working today, I reviewed my calendar and was reminded that last year I took several big trips, helped some friends pack their two houses so they could move to Colorado, and successfully came through knee surgery. So what’s a little paperwork? I just think this is important to keep in mind, since we all have tasks we’re afraid of tackling. But again, it’s simply a matter of getting started, doing one thing at a time, and remembering, I can do hard things.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Take a Year If You Need It (Blog #683)

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I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I was worked up/ worried about the leaks under our kitchen sink and a few things I’m not looking forward to this week including Valentine’s Day (because I’m single AF). Much to my chagrin, I discovered when I got up this morning that my efforts to stop one of the leaks didn’t work. Boo hiss. Anyway, my dad called a plumber, so now we’re waiting. And whereas I wish I could have handled the problem myself, sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

I’m talking to you, people who learn to dance on YouTube.

This afternoon I went to my dermatologist’s office for the first of three visits this week because I’m being patch tested to see what “common household ingredients” my skin reacts to. My dermatologist suggested the test when she found out I had some issues last year that were most likely connected to a laundry detergent I was using at the time. Anyway, the testing process consists of having 74 different potential irritants exposed to your back and–later–seeing how your skin responds. That is, I go back in two days to see if I’ve had an immediate reaction, then again two days after that to see if I’ve had a delayed reaction.

My whole life feels like a delayed reaction.

Last summer I was tested for allergies via a test in which my skin was actually scratched three dozen times or so. Thankfully, I didn’t get scratched today; the potential irritants were adhered to me. Below is a picture of what my back looked like right after the patches were stuck on. Tonight’s main photo was taken after this one, and it shows what my back looks like now–covered in tape to keep everything secure. The nurse told me, “No antihistamines, no showers [a bath is okay if my upper back stays dry], and no excessive sweating.”

“But a moderate amount of sweating is okay?” I asked, thinking, I don’t control my sweat glands, lady.

Eight hours after having the patches stuck on, I feel fine. A few times today I’ve felt a little itchy in a spot or two, but not all over. Of course, I’m paranoid that my skin is freaking out and am imagining that I’m allergic to everything the Dow Chemical Company every invented. The nurse did say, “Sometimes people blister and don’t even feel it.” BLISTER! Still, whatever will happen will happen, and I’m telling myself this is just information, and the more information I have the better. Not to mention, somehow I’ve survived in the world of “common household ingredients” this long.

Otherwise, today’s been whatever. When I left the dermatologist’s office, I forced myself to go to the library and do some paperwork. Woo. Every since then I’ve had a headache, this low-level throb that won’t let go no matter what I try. It’s just demanding enough that it’s hard to write, focus, or be optimistic. (Insert period of time here.) Okay, I just took (more) pills. I’m going to the gym later and don’t want to be miserable. Sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

Earlier this evening I saw my friend Bonnie and told her that despite a part of my brain knowing “this too shall pass” and that I’ll feel differently about things (Valentine’s Day, my health, my life) later, most of my brain feels like every current challenge in my life is permanent. Like, Hang it up, Marcus. Nothing ever gets better. Bonnie said, “That’s not what you’d tell a friend, though.” And she’s right, I wouldn’t. I’d say, “Sweetheart, everything changes. Give it a day or two. Take a year if you need it. You’ll feel differently soon enough.” So I’m trying to be patient with both life and myself. I’m trying to talk to me like a friend would.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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We’ll Deal with the Dishwasher Later (Blog #682)

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Well shit. It’s just after midnight, and five hours ago, after eating dinner, I started a small project. By small, I mean not small at all. I’ll explain. For months, since before my knee injury and surgery, our dishwasher has leaked. And whereas we haven’t been able to fix the problem, even with a new gasket, we’ve been able to catch the majority of the leak in a small bucket. But today we discovered a puddle of water on the floor in front of our sink (which is next to our dishwasher) and knew we had a bigger problem, since our dishwasher hadn’t been running.

As it turns out, in addition to the dishwasher leak (we’ll deal with the dishwasher later), we’ve had two leaks under our sink. Two! The first and most obvious is due to the device used to pipe water to our refrigerator. It’s faulty. After I Googled the problem, I learned this piece of equipment is one of the most hated by plumbers and is illegal in many states. It’s also a part you can’t replace on a Sunday night in Van Buren, Arkansas. Therefore, it continues to leak, but we do have (another) bucket catching the water.

The other leak, I’m afraid, is more problematic and is coming from a copper (hot water) pipe in the wall. I thought to look here because water was seeping under the wall and into our living room carpet, as well as into our kitchen. As I had to tear out some sheet rock under the sink to get to the copper pipe, I really made a damn mess. Plus, I had to rip out a thin sheet of plywood from under the sink, as well as some quarter round and a piece of particle board underneath our kitchen cabinets in order to see how extensive the water damage was.

Here’s a picture of what I discovered after I tore out the thin sheet of plywood. Notice the big water spot. That’s rotten wood and is all soft like a sponge. Ick. (Wood’s supposed to be hard.) One of the two copper pipes hiding in the back on the left is one of the referred to leak-causing culprits.

Rather than calling a plumber and shelling out a bunch of money to replace the copper pipe, Dad suggested we “try some of that stuff they sell on TV,” Flex Seal. So off we went to Walmart. Alas, we bought the tape kind (since the spray kind isn’t safety tested for potable water), and that didn’t work because the leak is apparently in a bend in the pipe, and it’s hard to wrap thick sticky tape around a bend. Oh well, it was only twelve dollars. So after doing some more Googling, I went back to Walmart and bought some JB Weld WaterWeld, a putty, which, after turning off the water supply to our house, I applied all around the bend (and then some).

That was an hour ago, and according to the directions, the putty should be dry by now. Of course, I hope it works. That would solve at least one of our two leaks. (We’ll deal with the dishwater later.) But who knows what will happen. I could turn the water back on, reach back to feel the pipe, and discover I’m no further along than I was five hours ago. Ugh. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

Otherwise, it’s been a dandy day. This afternoon I finished the writing project I started yesterday and can’t tell you how good it feels. Hell, for two straight days I went to Starbucks, set up my laptop, and pounded the keyboard while listening to Elton John, and it was actually fun. I’m sort of disappointed I don’t have a project to work on tomorrow. Well, other than the sink. But really, it’s just a reminder to me that whatever you focus your attention on can be interesting and enjoyable once you get started.

Okay, moment of truth. I’m going to turn the water on and check the leak. Hang tight.

Insert period of time here.

Well crap. At first the patch appeared to work, but then it didn’t. I hate that. Oh well, I turned the water off again and put some MORE putty on the pipe. Now we wait–all night. With any luck, the patch will dry harder and do what what it claims to do–stop leaks. If not, STOP–IT’S PLUMBER TIME. (That’s a 90s music/MC HAMMER joke, Mom.)

Water leaks are such a mess, can cause such a mess. And whereas one leak is bad enough, we have two. (We’ll deal with the dishwasher later.) But this is the deal–problems rarely show up one at time. Everything in your kitchen leaks. You blow out your knee, then your skin falls apart. Whatever. More and more, I’m learning to appreciate the process–identify your problems, solve your problems. Granted, I don’t like the process–I don’t like the crick I have in my neck thanks to tonight’s drama either–but I do appreciate it. (The process, not the crick.) And at least we have more information than we did before, at least we know what DOESN’T work, at least we’re one step closer to finding out what does.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If life can create a problem, it can also provide an answer.

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On Every Brilliant Thing (Blog #679)

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This evening I met my friend CJ for dinner and a show in Fayetteville. It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. Probably six months or more. We were talking about how slow time seems to pass when you’re looking forward to an event or waiting for something to happen. Like, it’ll be five more months before I can dance again (because of my recent knee injury and subsequent surgery), and that feels like ages. But when you look back–has it really been two months since I hurt myself, has it really been six months since we’ve seen each other?–gosh, time flies by.

I guess it’s just perspective.

After CJ and I ate, we walked around Dickson Street before the show started. I say walked around, but because it was butt-cold, something like twenty degrees, we more like scurried. Ugh, I hate winter. The snow was falling, the wind was blowing, my nipples were hard and everything. CJ said her boogers froze. Anyway, we ended up at one of my favorite used book stores. And whereas I had a fabulous time looking around (I adore a good book), I actually wasn’t tempted to buy anything. Go figure. Maybe I’m coming down with a fever.

The show we saw was at Theatre Squared and was called Every Brilliant Thing. It starred Liz Callaway, who–I learned tonight–played Grizabella in Cats on Broadway. (Swoon.) In tonight’s show, Liz played a seven-year-old (who eventually grows up) whose mother is manic-depressive and suicidal. Well, in order to make her mom feel better, she makes a list of “every brilliant thing” about life–ice cream, water fights, staying up past your bedtime and being allowed to watch TV–over a hundred things. And although the list doesn’t bring her mother out of her depression, it becomes a touchstone in the girl’s own life, something she comes back to over and over again throughout high school, college, marriage, and separation. In time, the list grows to a million different things that are wonderful about life–the smell of an old book, Chrisopher Walken’s voice, hairdressers who listen to what you want.

Here’s a picture of a bunch of brilliant things audience members wrote on a board outside the theater space. My contribution: 80s music.

One of the brilliant things about the show was that although it technically only starred Liz, it included nearly everyone in the audience. That is, before the show started, Liz handed out numbered notecards to many of us that each listed a single brilliant thing on it. Then as the show started and progressed, Liz would call out a number, 6 for example, and someone would say, “Roller coasters!” CJ’s card was 999–Sunshine. Mine was 518. When Liz handed it to me, she smiled and said, “I was told you wanted a long card.” It said, “When idioms coincide with real-life occurrences, for instance: waking up, realizing something and simultaneously smelling coffee.”

I can’t tell you what fun this play was. Not only did I laugh and cry, I was reminded that there are a million beautiful things about life to celebrate and take note of, even when you feel depressed, even when your chips are down. For example, this knee injury has been a real drag, especially since dancing and teaching dance is largely how I make a living. Yet in the midst of this not-so-fabulous predicament, I’ve had AMAZING care. Plus, this situation has caused me to slow down and be kinder to myself. It’s gotten me back in the gym. It’s gotten my dad IN the gym, and that’s huge. Now we’re spending more time together. Talk about brilliant things.

I guess it’s just perspective.

Seriously, I could go on about why my life is beautiful right here, right now. This morning I had granola with homemade kefir for breakfast–delicious. My car, Tom Collins, has heated seats–glorious. This evening when I thought I’d left the tickets for tonight’s show at home and called the box office to find out what to do, the woman I spoke to said, “No worries. We didn’t actually mail the tickets. They’re here at the theater. Plus, we always have a list, so you’re perfect.” A stranger said I was perfect! (How perfect is that?) Anyway, I won’t go on, but I think we should all do this now and then–talk about brilliant things–because we feel better when we do. The way I see, it shifts our perspective, wakes us up to the love that resides within our own good hearts.

Here’s something wild. My grandpa, my dad’s dad, used to wear coveralls, like, every damn day. With the exception of the occasional funeral or anniversary, I really can’t remember him wearing anything else. Well, tonight after the show, out of the blue, CJ gave me a pair of grandpa’s old coveralls and a straw hat he used to wear whenever he worked in the yard. The two of them were friends, and I guess she ended up with them after he died ten years ago. “I thought you’d like to have them,” she said. I still can’t get over it. This is what I think is truly brilliant about life, that on the coldest night of the year, you can find yourself making memories with a good friend; that years after a loved one leaves you, their memory can come flooding back; that one or a million brilliant things can remind you of the love that always lives inside you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Growth and getting far in life have nothing to do with where you’re physically standing.

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On Continuing Sans Perfection (Blog #675)

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For the last twenty minutes I’ve been trying to get my hotspot to work so I could blog on my laptop. Alas, for whatever reason, it’s currently defunct, so I’m blogging on my phone, using my thumbs to punch in one letter at a time. What a drag. What a serious drag. I hope I don’t get a callous.

This afternoon while most of America was eating cheese dip and preparing for the Superbowl, I went to the gym to rehab my knee and work out my upper body. As today was my second time this week following this regimen, I’m really surprised I don’t have pecs yet. Geez, some things take forever. And as if that weren’t disappointing enough, when I came home I pulled out a box of medjool dates for a snack, and the sticker on the box said, “Had a date lately?” I thought, Do you have to rub it in? Shit, a single guy can’t even eat a healthy snack without having his lack of a love-life thrown in his face. By a fruit, no less.

For the record, I’ve NEVER had this problem with chocolate cake.

This may come as a surprise, but I’m not a football fan. So while everyone else was wondering if Adam Levine would take a knee during his performance, I took a nap. I did, however, wake up in time for the half-time show, which I watched while I knitted.

Recently my friend Kara asked if I was learning to knit in order to get some sort of gay merit badge.

The answer is yes.

A couple things. In a previous post I said my current knitting project, a pot holder, would eventually have 36 rows. That was (an unintentional) lie. It’s going to have 60. Anyway, today I did twelve rows, so now I’ve done a total of 28. Almost halfway there. My big hangup today was that I noticed a mistake I made a few days ago. I guess I dropped a stitch or knitted instead of purled or something. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You probably wouldn’t even notice it if I showed you. But I noticed it wasn’t perfect.

Instead of ripping out the entire damn thing and starting over, I forced myself to keep going. After all, this is supposed to be for fun. Plus, I kept thinking about all the hundreds of mistakes I’ve made dancing through the years and how much I’ve learned from them. Indeed, mistakes are necessary when we’re figuring things out. And as my therapist says, “You’ll be done figuring things out when you’re six feet under.”

In other words, mistakes are simply part off living. Like it or not, they come with the job.

The other thing that encouraged me to continue knitting sans perfection was thinking about this blog. That is, in over 600 blog posts, I’m SURE I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I proof each post three times, and I know mistakes still slip through. But whatever. This project doesn’t need to flawless, each word spelled correctly, each sentence punctuated just so. Indeed, the greatest benefit I’ve gotten from writing every day can’t even be measured in terms of the finished project because the greatest benefit has been internal. Likewise, whether you write, dance, or knit, it’s not about the actual thing or what you produce. It’s about how doing the thing changes you. It’s about what you learn and how much you grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is all right and okay.

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The World Has It Backwards (Blog #674)

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This afternoon I met my longtime friend Kara for coffee (well, hot tea ’cause we fancy), and we laughed and laughed. Then as the conversation evolved, we dove deep. Kara said, “You’ve obviously chosen to live your life differently. What’s the end goal?” So I talked about my dreams of being a full-time (paid) writer and how I see this period in my life, living with my parents, not working a nine to five, as an investment. “It’s a gamble,” I said, “a bet that if you listen to your gut and follow your heart that things will work out. Of course, I’m not on the other side of that bet, so it’s still just a theory for me.”

I’ve been rolling this conversation around in my head ever since Kara and I said goodbye. Mostly I’ve been thinking about the fact that for every apparent downside to my living with my parents and not having a regular job, there have been just as many upsides. For example, these last two years have given me time to heal both inside and outside. Second, they’ve given me time to study a number of subjects that interest me and I imagine will play a big part in my future. Third, I’ve gotten a ton done with my therapist, work that wouldn’t have happened if I’d 1) had a full-time job or 2) been in a full-time relationship.

This evening I did some body-based exercises intended to highlight the differences between shutting down and opening up (in terms of posture and emotion). Then I worked on my current knitting project–a pot holder–and messed up a couple spots when I went from knitting to purling or vice versa. (Knitting and purling are the two basic stitches in knitting.) Thankfully, I figured out how to fix everything and also how to keep it the problem from happening again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about contrast, that it’s often useful to know (and feel) the wrong way to stand or knit because then you can better understand the right way. Said differently, when you know what you don’t want, you know what you do want.

Along these lines, I can find gratitude for past failed relationships and even my health challenges, since they’ve created a strong desire for health in all areas of my life. Not that I didn’t want to be healthy before, but having experienced the opposite of health quite vividly a number of times in the past, I know better what I’d like my life and health to look and feel like in the future. Now I have a clearly picture of what it is I’m aiming for–er, I’m betting–where it is I’m going. And to be clear, I hate that, that sometimes you have to go down before you can go up.

In one of my very first blog posts (#4), I told a story about Joseph Campbell that’s worth repeating. He said there was a five-year period in his life that he just read books. He didn’t have “a real job,” he didn’t really work at all. He just studied. Years later he said he could see that time was absolutely necessary, since it set him up for his later success. I guess my point is that I’d like to do better about appreciating this down time, this contrast, for what it is now. I’d like to recognize it as a time to heal, as preparation, an essential and important chapter in my life story. I know that I often judge importance based on the world’s values of success and money, but having reconnected with my heart and soul in the absence of these things and believing one’s heart and soul are valuable above all else, I believe the world has it backwards.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”

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One Stitch at a Time (Blog #672)

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Today I’m generally content. This is a phrase my therapist uses a lot, generally content, that feeling somewhere in between being on top of the world and having the world on your shoulders. For me, it’s not feeling fabulous, but not feeling unfabulous either. It’s loving the results of your new diet, but not loving the fact that you just ate chicken and rice for the third time in two days. Generally content–it’s that feeling you get when you finally embrace your age and the fact that you enjoy a good prune.

So sue me.

This afternoon and evening I’ve done a little of this, a little of that. That is, I read in a book, watched an old television show on my laptop, did my knee rehab exercises, and knitted. Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me my first official pattern or project–a pot holder that has the word HI stitched in the middle of it. When it’s finished it will be a square–36 rows with 36 stitches each. (That’s 1,296 stitches.) Tonight I spent about an hour doing the first six rows. (That’s 216 stitches.) Right at the end some stitches slipped off one of the needles, but after a lot of concentrated thinking, I figured out how to fix them. Phew.

I plan to go to the gym whenever I get done blogging. I went last night and tried a few new exercises, some for my knee, some for the rest of me. Y’all, at one point, while I was standing on one leg and passing a weighted ball from one hand to the other, I actually found myself having fun. What the hell–having fun at a gym?! Now, despite that fact that I’m often intimidated at the gym and am afraid of not knowing what I’m doing, I’m thinking about adding in some other exercises tonight. Because the truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Granted, I’m no stranger to the gym, this isn’t my first workout rodeo, but I mean in general I’m not a pro. I’m not a pro at knitting, not a pro at working out. Fortunately, it turns out you don’t have to be a pro to either get good results or enjoy yourself.

This also applies to dancing, cooking, and love-making (I’ve heard, Mom).

I’ve blogged about it before, but it’s really been on my mind today that a little bit at a time goes a long way. I’m reading this book about resetting your body’s nervous system (in order to eliminate tension and pain), and it emphasizes that all the exercises should be done SLOWLY. It says, even if you just feel a SLIGHT feeling of relaxation, that’s significant. And whereas my inner completionist just wants the results, I know this is how results manifest–a little bit here, a little bit there. As in knitting, progress comes one stitch at a time.

Earlier I realized that it’s basically been two months since my knee injury. The accident happened December 1, and today is the last day of January. Just over sixty days, and so many of those days I’ve wanted to cry or pull my hair out it’s been so frustrating. But shit, look how far I’ve come. I’ve had surgery. Now I can walk without crutches. I can’t dance yet, but I’m making other noticeable improvements week by week. If things go according to plan, in one more month I’ll be jogging. A month after that, it’ll be spring; it’ll be warm out. Yes, this is doable. I’m gonna dance again, me and my constantly cold feet are gonna make it through winter, and I’m gonna get that potholder done.

One stitch at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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