On Who Sends You Over the Moon (Blog #1008)

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Today I’ve been thinking about stuff. I’ll explain. This morning–well, this afternoon–I lay in bed, quite frankly, feeling like crap, trying to go back to sleep. Alas, I couldn’t and, after I could scroll through Facebook no longer, finally succumbed to looking around my room–at my lamps, my books, my pictures. Earlier this week I wrote about how everything is falling apart, so I started thinking about how imperfect everything I own is. This lamp has a chip in it, that book’s pages are stained, that frame’s held together with super glue, and so on. My conclusion being that everything in life is broken.

Think about that.

If you own something that isn’t broken, either you’re not looking close enough or enough time hasn’t passed. Meaning everything breaks (wears out, fades, dies) eventually. In the blog about everything falling apart I used the phrase “smoke and mirrors,” and this is what I meant. We can try to hide the fact that everything is dissolving before our eyes (per the second law of thermodynamics) by turning the crack in the vase so that no one can see it, but that won’t change the fact that it’s there.

Recently I had a friend tell me that their mother (God rest her soul) bought “only the best.” And whereas I have high standards when shopping and adore pretty things and aesthetically pleasing objects, it really hit me this morning that even the best objects come with an expiration date. Because someone’s going to drop it or accidentally put it in the clothes washer. Or–God forbid–a tornado will carry it away. Once I heard a spiritual story about a man who had a heart attack and stopped breathing but was resuscitated by a doctor. People told the doctor, “You saved him from dying!” But the doctor, a mystic of sorts, said, “No one can be saved from dying. All I did was postpone his death.” This is what I mean by all things–including us–having an expiration date.

Just a moment ago I picked up a coffee cup and am now thinking of it as a mirage, a phantasm, not because the cup’s not real or because it’s not there anymore, but because it soon enough won’t be. That’s the deal, we spend so much time shopping for and arranging things just so, and yet–in the twinkling of an eye–it can all be gone.

In the twinkling of an eye, it will be.

Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with shopping for and arranging things just so. My room is full of pretty things and aesthetically pleasing objects, and you’d better believe everything is in its proper place. But more and more having things just so is a PREFERENCE for me, not a HAVE TO. That’s when we start getting into trouble, when everything MUST be a certain way–perfect, only the best–in order for us to be happy or satisfied. (I’m thinking of some neat-freaks I knew who, whenever they left home, insisted on vacuuming themselves out the door.) That was something else I thought about this morning while looking around my room. I went object by object and asked myself WHY I liked it, what I thought it did for me. And whereas it would take too long to go through all the reasons and answers, suffice it to say that most the things I like 1) remind me of pleasant time, 2) inspire me in some say, or 3) make me feel important (smart, handsome, hip, nifty) for owning them.

Like, wasn’t I clever for buying this?

Along these lines, I concluded that more often than not our material possessions are SYMBOLS. Granted, sometimes a doorknob is just a doorknob, but when something–let’s say a fancy, gold-plated doorknob–exists for us not just for its intended function but also to convey meaning (I have so much money that even my doorknobs are rich), well, now we’re talking about MEANING. Meaning that we’ve given to something either individually (I’m currently over the moon about brooches but know most people don’t give a shit, although just tonight Vogue said brooches were the new men’s fashion trend) or as a society (conversely, most anyone would be over the moon about a nice house, a luxury car, or season tickets to see their favorite sports team).

Again, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having ANY of this stuff. One the contrary, since everything is fading, enjoy the hell out of it while you can. This being said, I do think it’s worthwhile to examine how you use your stuff symbolically. For example, if a souvenir reminds you of a lovely vacation and gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling, super. That’s what it’s supposed to do. But if the thought of someone stealing your souvenir gives you anxiety, then you’ve given more POWER to the souvenir than any physical object is capable of containing. That is, you’ve convinced yourself that the THING is generating your warm, fuzzy feeling, when–in fact–it’s you that’s doing that. Think about it. If a brooch can send me over the moon and yet have NO EFFECT on you, then the brooch isn’t doing it, I am.

So this is what I’d suggest keeping in mind the next time you go shopping or start to get excited about any material do-dad. First, remember that you’re looking at a mirage, something that will eventually disappear. Either it will, or you will. Second, know that in addition to looking at a mirage, you’re looking at a symbol. Ask yourself, “What does this represent to me?” If the answer is, “This doorknob will impress my neighbors and make me feel better about myself,” consider that your value and self-worth come from the inside, not the outside. Lastly, remember that things only have the power we give them–and that nothing (no thing) can affect your mood, value, or worth without your permission. Think, Who sends me over the moon? I do.

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.

"

See Above for Results (Blog #1007)

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Yesterday I communicated online with a seller from Facebook Marketplace who’d listed a couple items I was interested in. “I’d like to look at them before deciding to buy them,” I said. “Where and when would be good to meet?”

“I’ll be in Fort Smith tomorrow around 3:00,” they said.

Maybe they’ll tell me where later, I thought.

This afternoon they said, “Looks like it’s going to be about 4:30.” And whereas I was beginning to doubt 1) whether I really wanted the items and 2) if this person would actually show up, about 4:20 I went ahead and got ready to go. Climbing into the car, I messaged the seller. “Where should we meet?” I said. Alas, twenty-five minutes later I was in Fort Smith with no answer. Perhaps it’s just as well, I thought. I really don’t need to spend the money. Plus, the whole situation just felt “off.”

Recently I had a meeting scheduled with someone and the day of woke up three hours early thinking, I should cancel. However, not wanting to be a douchebag, I didn’t. For this, I paid the price. I spent the whole day with an upset stomach. Every hour I was running to the bathroom. (If this is too graphic, I apologize.) Thankfully, by the time the meeting started I calmed down. But never completely. Again, the whole thing just felt “off.” Now, nothing BAD happened, but a few days later the person with whom I met ended up being rude in a text message. Later when I discussed the matter with my therapist she said, “That’s a big deal when your body wakes you up tell you something. My guess is that queasy feeling you had is your body’s particular TELL for ‘this is going to be a waste of our time.’ Next time, cancel.”

Y’all, I get it. Cancelling would have made sense. And it’s not that I didn’t think of it. It just seemed like, well, not a very NICE thing to do. (What does your therapist always say, Marcus? Nice is a strategy–to get people to like you, to get moved up to the front of the line, to get someone in bed.) That’s what I kept thinking today on my way to meet the seller in Fort Smith, that I wanted to cancel but that it was TOO LATE, that it wouldn’t be VERY NICE. So honestly I was relieved when they didn’t respond. Because it gave me an out.

Sort of.

I’ll explain.

When I got to Fort Smith and hadn’t heard anything, I stopped by AutoZone to have my car, Tom Collins, checked. His check engine light’s been on lately. And whereas I assumed it had something to do with the fuel gauge (which lately has said I’m full one minute and empty the next), I wanted to be sure. The good news? I was right. The bad news?

“You’ll probably have to replace the entire fuel pump,” the guy said, “and that’ll run you $390.”

Plus tax, of course.

Okay, I thought, I definitely don’t need to buy anything today. So, still not having heard anything from the seller and twenty minutes after we were supposed to meet, I wrote them, “I came to town to meet you but ended up having car trouble along the way. Unfortunately, I’ll be spending my money on auto repairs. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

At which point they replied, “Wow I drove fifteen minutes.”

No “I’m sorry about your car” or anything.

Which just goes to show you that we all make everything about us.

This isn’t the way things went down in reality.

Now, do I blame this person for being upset? No. Over the years I’ve had plenty of people flake out on dance lessons at the last minute or not show up at all, and it’s frustrating. Especially if you’re counting on the money. Do I wish that they’d been more gracious about it (I mean, I drove fifteen minutes too, and my car’s broken), or that we’d both communicated more clearly in the first place? Of course. And if IFS and BUTS were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas. In other words, this isn’t the way things went down in reality.

Y’all, I could go on and on about what I think both me and this other person did right and wrong in this situation. If this were a gameshow and you could all vote–I’m sure–some of you would say I’m the shithead here, and others would say the seller is. Some of you would think BOTH of us are. I think that’s the camp I’m in. Meaning that some circumstances in life aren’t cut and dried. Instead, they’re simply less than ideal. Gross.

Like, aren’t we glad that’s over?

Having had the evening to over-process this mess, I have a few takeaways. First, more and more I’m learning to trust my intuition. That is, I’m glad I cancelled, since, based on the person’s response, I don’t think I would have enjoyed or felt good about the interaction had it gone through. Granted, I didn’t follow my intuition as soon as I could have (and thus the mess), but I did follow it faster than I would have even a year ago, and that’s progress. Which brings me to my second point–authenticity and the self-esteem necessary to pursue it are things that require PRACTICE, and this practice, rather than occurring on a grand scale (like in a court room), more often occurs in the nitty gritty of everyday life. With our friends. With our family. With total strangers we meet on Facebook.

This is the shit my therapist and I talk about, the day-to-day dramas. Sure, we discuss THE BIG STUFF, but usually the little stuff leads us to the big stuff, since the little stuff tends to touch a wound. I’m not good enough. I did something wrong. Why doesn’t everyone like me?

Of course, not everyone is supposed to like you. (Why not, Marcus?) Because you need PRACTICE liking yourself no matter what.

Seen from this perspective, I COULD be thankful for the seller’s response today. (“The response THEY CHOSE,” my therapist would say.)

Are you thankful, Marcus?

I’m working on it before your very eyes.

Over a year ago I wrote about a statue of mine I call ANY DANCING JESUS that images Christ with his arms raised overhead as if here were just beginning the chorus of “YMCA.” Anyway, this evening while futzing with a picture frame and the cover an old book, I placed the statue inside the frame. (See above for results.) In the process I remembered that, despite the fact that Jesus was the original DFF (damn fine fella), not everyone liked him either. (So what makes you think they’ll like you?) I also remembered that part of his message was to “rise above,” or see things from a higher perspective. (See above for results.) Like, for all I know, I did the seller a favor by getting them out of their house where they otherwise would have been robbed or mugged. Lastly, I remembered that by his example Christ taught us to set it free, bitch. (I added the bitch part.) That is, he taught us to forgive, forgive, forgive (ourselves and others), to let go (of our mistakes and the mistakes of others), and to not judge (anyone including ourselves).

Of course, these amount to the same thing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

"

Walk Through Your Doorway (Blog #1006)

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It’s New Year’s Eve, an hour before midnight. And whereas I’ve had more energy today than I did yesterday, I’m ringing in 2020 sick with a sinus infection. Currently I’m in my pajamas, curled up in my parents’ living room drinking hot tea. Mom’s in her chair in her nightgown on Facebook, and Dad’s on the couch watching the ball drop in New York City with a toothpick in his mouth. Our family dog is passed out on the floor. Every now and then, she farts.

It’s an enviable situation, I know.

This afternoon while running errands I stopped by the library to check out a book called As: A Surfeit of Similes by Norton Juster (the man who wrote The Phantom Tollbooth). Then, after I dropped off a late Christmas gift to and visited with my friends Justin and Ashley, I came home and read it. Talk about delightful. Y’all, it’s a children’s book, but if you like words and rhymes, it’s for you. I walked away from it both smiling and inspired.

As happy as a pig in shit. (That’s a simile, Mom, a comparison using like or as. But, to be clear, not one that’s used in the book.)

One simile that IS used in the book is “as rough as a gale,” a gale being (I found out thanks to Google) a very strong wind. (A very strong wind as in weather, mind you, not as in what happens when our dog’s sleeping.) Anyway, this made me think of Dorothy Gale, the main character in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. And whereas I don’t know if L. Frank Baum intended to give Dorothy a surname that correlates perfectly to her life being turned upside down (ultimately for the better) by a tornado, it certainly was and is fitting. What stands out to me even more, however, is the fact that Dorothy means “gift of God,” the implication of Dorothy Gale being that the tornados, the storms in our lives, are sent to us from heaven not for our destruction, but rather for our betterment.

This sucks to think about, I know.

This afternoon Justin and Ashley and I discussed our New Year’s Resolutions. And whereas all of us agreed that if you want to change something in your life you can do it any day of the year–you don’t have to wait until January 1–we all had things we’d like to see happen in 2020. In addition to the usual suspects like getting in better shape, I’d like to 1) finish this blog on March 30th, 2) start turning it into a book, and 3) buckle down on two other (young adult fiction) books I’ve begun but have neglected because–quite frankly–they terrify me. Why do they terrify me? Because, for one thing, I’m afraid they won’t be good enough. For another, I’m afraid they’ll be too good. Like, I avoid them because I believe they have the power to change both me and my life.

I think this is why most of our resolutions “fail,” why we don’t follow through. Because deep down we know that if we really stick to something–anything–it will transform us. It will turn our world upside down. Earlier tonight I looked up WHY we celebrate New Year’s when we do and found out that there’s no ASTRONOMICAL reason for it. Granted, January 1 falls nicely between the Winter Solstice (on December 21/22) and the earth’s perihelion (on January 5, when we’re closest to the sun), but that’s not it. Rather, we celebrate New Year’s in the month of JAN-uary as an homage to the Roman god Janus, the god of doorways and beginnings. Janus being the two-faced god with one face looking toward the past and one face looking toward the future. Anyway, that’s the deal. Whenever you walk through a doorway into a new world, you MUST leave your old world behind. Dorothy couldn’t take Kansas (or her loved ones in it) to Oz.

This fact that truly committing to change not only changes us but also our world and requires that we like Dorothy go alone is, again, why I think we tend to 1) keep our resolutions rather surface and 2) soon end up dropping them. (Statistics show that eighty percent of people give up on their resolutions within six weeks.) It’s also why I think the divine so often has to send storms into our our lives. Most of us need to be “strongly encouraged” to change. Recently I wrote about how we need our challenges, and this is what I meant. We need a good swift kick in pants to get us going down our own personal Yellow Brick Roads. Because given the option to steal a witch’s broomstick (that is, do something that terrifies us) or stay at home and watch Netflix, most of us choose Netflix. It’s like life sees potential in us we’re not using.

So it sends us a tornado to set us on The Path.

For all these reasons (and not that anyone asked), my advice is terms of resolutions and life in general is–don’t let yourself off easy. Don’t say, “I want to lose five pounds” or “I want to eat better.” If you do, fine. These are noble causes that, if taken seriously, will change your life for the better. Still and instead, I recommend doing something that terrifies you, something that really has the potential to draw out your potential and turn your life upside down for the better. I think about my decisions to really commit to therapy and this blog and how, although for the rest of my life my weight is sure to fluctuate, these two choices have helped me find a space within myself that’s unmovable. A space that can weather any storm. I think about the power that one perspective truly embodied–like “my storms are a gift from God”–has to transform a person, the peace it can offer, and I think, What are you waiting for? I know it’s scary, but walk through your doorway. Leave your old world behind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you’re making yourself up to get someone else’s approval–stop it–because you can’t manipulate anyone into loving you. People either embrace you for who and what you are–or they don’t.

"

On Being Not So Bad (Blog #1005)

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Last night my throat got scratchy and I started coughing. It’s nothing, I thought. Probably allergies. Alas, I woke up sick today, weak and junky. Currently my head hurts, maybe from spending too much time in bed. Who knows what’s going on, either in my body or in American politics? But seriously, it could be sinus crud (it’s always sinus crud), a cold, the flu. Let’s hope it’s not the flu. Or the black plague. I’ve heard that’s awful. Something that can really put a damper on your plans for New Year’s.

Speaking of plans, I was supposed to have a day full of appointments today–a dance lesson, a checkup with my dermatologist, some odd job work. And whereas I thought about pushing myself and doing these things anyway, when I coughed up crap this morning decided to listen to my body and intuition instead. “Cancel your appointments,” they said. “Stay home. Rest.” So that’s what I did–made a few phone calls and went back to sleep. Each time I woke up, I went to the bathroom, drank a glass of water (I’ve heard fluids are important), then went back to sleep again. Finally, at five in the evening, I woke up, turned on my bedside lamp (which because I’m so gross is probably the only thing I could turn on today), and binge-watched Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

I haven’t finished yet, so keep your mouths shut about any spoilers.

Having dealt with (what I feel is) my fair share of sinus (and cold and flu) crud over the years, more and more I’m getting okay with it. Sure, it’s frustrating as hell, especially when I go down the rabbit hole of feeling sorry for myself, of thinking, This nonsense again?! Or when I blame myself. I should have known better, I should have done something different, and all that. But when I take whatever’s happening moment-by-moment, it’s not so bad. Like, Now I’m lying in bed. Now I’m coughing up a lung. Now I’m praying to God to get me out of this.

I mean, I’m in bed, I’m warm, I’m full, and I have people who love me.

Not so bad.

To be clear, it’s not so great either. I’d much rather feel like a million bucks or be at Disney World with Zac Efron on my arm. Or both. But these aren’t current options for me. So more and more, “not so bad” is good enough. Because although I’m in a certain amount of physical pain and discomfort, I’m not adding to my suffering by constantly telling myself a “woe is me” or “isn’t it awful?” story.

And when I do tell myself a tale of “and this sucks and this sucks and this sucks”? Well, I try not to believe me.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There's a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace. We forget that we too are like the planets, part of a larger universe that is always proceeding one step at time, never in the wrong place, everything always right where it belongs.

"

On Riding a Unicorn (Blog #1003)

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Yesterday I talked about how things aren’t personal, and today I’ve been thinking about how this concept applies to our dramas and traumas. For example, I’ve talked before about my home burning down when I was four and my dad going to prison when I was fourteen and how these incidents (in addition to others) have shaped my personality, fears, insecurities, and strengths. And in the sense that these events happened to and directly affected me, they certainly FEEL personal. And yet there are thousands and hundreds of thousands of children, teenagers, and adults whose homes have burned down and/or who have been separated from their loved ones through gross circumstances (imprisonment, abandonment, divorce, border patrol, death).

The logical conclusion being that these situations AREN’T TRULY PERSONAL to Marcus Anderson Coker. Rather, they’re simply things that go down here on planet earth.

What’s the saying?

Shit happens.

Having cussed and discussed every terrible thing in my life with my therapist and–to a large extent but not totally–on this blog, more and more I’m choosing to see these things not personally, but impersonally. Better said, I’m choosing to see them through the lens of symbol and myth. For anyone struggling to let go of and move on from a nasty circumstance, this is a lifesaver. Humor is a lifesaver, and symbolic and mythological sight is a lifesaver. What I mean is that in all good stories–including fairy tales, novels, and movies–every hero worth his or her salt has a challenge. They’re deformed. They’re beat up, abused, left out, alone, sick. They’re a forty-year-old virgin. They have to be.

Why, Marcus?

Because there wouldn’t be an interesting plot otherwise. Because there wouldn’t be any drama. Because heroes aren’t BORN doing heroic things. Rather, they have to have SOMETHING to overcome. Something sad, heartbreaking, or scary that forces or at least strongly encourages them to dig deep and bring forth their inner resources. This is how they BECOME a hero. This is why–let’s face it–Cinderella is nothing without her evil step-mother and step-sisters, Luke Skywalker is nothing without Darth Vader, and Inigo Montoya is nothing without the six-fingered man.

Once I heard the philosopher Alan Watts point out that the Bible says to love your enemies–it doesn’t say not to have any. “Love your enemies AS your enemies,” Watts said. Why? Because, again, we need our enemies to help shape us–not into bitter beings, but into better beings. And, to be clear, “our enemies” applies not only to humans, but also to events, circumstances, and situations that we’ve deemed awful, unspeakable, and tragic. Like being made fun of repeatedly; being born “the wrong” skin color, sexuality, or gender; being in a car accident; having a heart attack; getting cancer; and being cheated on or fired.

Yes, we need these things.

This sucks, I know.

Now, I’m not saying we NEED these terrible things the way we need air to breathe. But I am saying THEY DO happen (a lot), and we have a CHOICE about how to see ourselves when they occur. That is, we can picture ourselves as victims (and you know how that story goes), or we can picture ourselves as heroes. We can say, “This is the thing that will bring out my highest potential. This is my personal dark forest to walk through on my way to the castle. This is my dragon to slay.”

And then instead of whining and running, we can say, “Bring it on.”

This afternoon I went antique shopping with my friends Aaron and Kate and their son and wore a rhinestone unicorn brooch I bought just yesterday while shopping with my aunt. Y’all, it a big hit, at least for Fort Smith. I got three compliments, all from total strangers. The last person said, “I just adore your brooch. I LOVE unicorns. They’re such MYTHICAL creatures.”

So get this shit. While antique shopping I bought a handful of old books solely based on their covers (for craft projects). Well, when I got the books home I noticed one was called–and I’m not making this up–Bring Me a Unicorn by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. A few pages in there was even a poem by the author about a unicorn that went, “Everything today has been heavy and brown. Bring me a Unicorn to ride about the town.” And whereas I found all of this delightfully fun, I also found it synchronistic, so I thought, Okay, Marcus, hop to. What’s the universe reminding you?

For me, this “coincidence” was first a reminder to believe in “impossible” things (like healing, mending relationships, finding a lover, and getting a job), something I’ve been challenging myself to do lately. Second, it was a reminder to see not only my own life but also life in general impersonally and mythologically. This is huge. Because when you’re impersonal about whatever shitty thing is going on (the way Jesus was when Judas betrayed him), it won’t change you for the worse, it will transform you for the better. You’ll say, “This HAS to happen because it’s part of my story.” (Note that if JESUS was betrayed–like any good hero is–you certainly will be too.) So yes. Especially on days that are “heavy and brown,” it’s vital to view things from another (magical, mystical, mythical) perspective. To not get stuck in your antique, non-productive, drag-me-down ways of thinking and believing. To instead be open to new ideas. To at least once a day ride a unicorn.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

"

Worth It (Blog #1000!)

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Phew. Here we are. Blog #1000. We made it. I made it. Two years, eight months, and twenty-six days ago I began this journey honestly not knowing what I was doing or where I was going. And whereas I’m not sure I know now (does anyone ever know what they’re doing or where they’re going?), I’m nonetheless here with–as of yesterday–892,141 words more than I started with. Granted, not every word or every post has been brilliant. How could it be? And yet all together these words and posts have provided a container, a structure in which something brilliant has happened.

To be clear, I’m not referring to this body of work, this blog, as brilliant. Granted, I’m proud of it, but more and more I don’t have to label it. Recently I’ve watched a couple documentaries about The Sphinx, and one scholar dates it as old as 36,000 years. My point being that over the centuries countless numbers of people have looked upon this sculpture and issued their opinions about it. It’s magnificent, it’s glorious, it’s weird, it’s crap. Whatever. I’m sure those who built it had their thoughts about it too. It’s not good enough; we should probably redo that nose. Meanwhile, the creation itself has existed as it is, quietly knowing that our opinions are powerless to change art. Art, however, is more than capable of changing us if we let it.

This is the brilliant thing I’m referring to, the fact that somewhere in the midst of all these words and posts a glorious, necessary, and humbling transformation has taken place–mine. Now, I know this is a bold claim–look at me, I’m different!–but I’m just stating facts (and I’m not ASKING anyone to look). Even if I were, I could write until I’m blue in the face and not be able to PROVE to another soul that my soul is any different today than it was 1,000 days ago. But it is. Specifically, it has more of a voice in my decisions, my moods, and my relationships. Because I’m more in touch with it. THAT’S what this vessel has provided–a place for me to meet myself. Time and time again it’s given me a space–a virtual therapy office if you will–for me to be my own listening ear, my own compassionate shoulder to cry on, my own caring counselor.

For those of you who have in any way watched, supported, or shared this space and this journey of mine, I am deeply grateful. Truly the path to one’s self is often and by definition a lonely path, and yet–paradoxically–we never walk it completely alone. More and more I’m convinced: both here and “elsewhere,” we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Witnesses who happily cheer us on.

Transformation requires more than a charge card.

Perhaps one of the reasons the path to one’s self (the journey of personal growth, the way of spirituality, the royal road) is lonely is because so much of it is internal (where you are, where God is, and where other people aren’t) and not external (where the world is, where people are, and where stuff is). If it were external, it’d be easy to prove to other people how you’ve changed or transformed. This is how most of the world operates. We get a new car, house, or haircut and think that changes US. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Despite what the advertisers and marketers want us to think, it’s not that easy. Transformation requires more than a charge card. At best our outward changes affect others’ PERCEPTION of us, and–as you know, dear reader–the perception of others is a fickle mistress. One day someone approves of us and what we do, wear, and say, and the next day they don’t.

Where’d their approval go? we think.

Well, in the words of the warden in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, it “up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”

Tonight I concluded Christmas at a dear friend’s house, where we ate dinner, toasted each other, and exchanged gifts and stories. Y’all, more and more I believe that a good story is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, especially if it makes them laugh, comforts their heart, or challenges them to think in a new way. Well, my friend gave me such a gift tonight. They said they once hosted a large fundraiser, and the band for the event showed up–what’s the phrase?–high as a damn kite. And whereas most the musicians managed fine, the bass player either accidentally or on-purpose kept playing DIFFERENT songs than the rest of the band.

“I think he just didn’t give a shit,” my friend said.

Thankfully, the man (the genius) running the sound board turned off the bass player’s microphone, and no one in the audience ever knew the guy was completely stewed. My friend only knew because the sound technician put a pair of earphones on their head and said, “Hey, get this shit.”

Y’all, this is what this journey I’ve been discussing is about–turning DOWN the external voices in your life and turning UP the internal ones. In the last 1,000 days I’ve referred to these voices as your soul, your spirit, your highest self, your intuition, your guidance, your inner wisdom, your angels, God, the universe, the gods, and–I could go on. And whereas I don’t see all these terms as exactly the same, my point is–I just don’t think we’re alone here. Recently I had a friend comment, “I don’t believe in gods.” Fine. It has never been nor will it ever be my intention on this blog to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, least of all the higher mechanics of the cosmos. Changing someone else is NEVER the point of this work. Again and again and all day long until the cows come home, the point is changing oneself.

Transforming oneself.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means exactly that–that the forces we read about aren’t outside but inside us, that if you can’t read about Sisyphus eternally rolling a giant rock up a mountain or Jesus hanging on the cross and put YOURSELF there and thus relate the story to YOUR life, you’ve missed the point. (Every story is about you. What is in all is in one. What is in one is in all.) People externalize their gods, their beliefs. They say, “Jesus loves the little children. God hates fags.” No, they don’t. YOU do. How do I know? You’re the one who said it; you’re the one who did it. This is what personal responsibility and accountability are all about–realizing that you no longer get to blame someone else (God, your neighbor, or a book) for YOUR actions.

This sucks, I know.

There’s an idea in The Bible about not building your house upon the sandy land but rather building your house upon the rock, where, as a children’s song says, “the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know.” And whereas I do NOT intend this as preaching or evangelizing, I DO intend it as SYMBOLIZING.

I’ll explain.

Recently I’ve been obsessed with a song by Maren Morris called “The Bones.” It’s my flavor of the week. In essence the song is about a couple’s relationship, the idea being that when two people have a home with a solid foundation they can weather any storm. Getting back to the idea of symbolizing or being able to relate any story, mythology, or wisdom to one’s self, my thought has been that if I–if YOU–have a solid internal foundation, we can confidently navigate the trials and tribulations of life. This is the path I keep talking about, the path therapy and this blog have been such a huge part of for me, the building of an unshakable inner base. Y’all, I wish I could tell you that the right therapist, doctor, doctrine, or god can and will protect you from life’s hurts and heartaches, but alas, this is simply not the case. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is selling you snake oil. What is true, however, is that if you’ve done the inner work and have your priorities straight, you can best any challenge. Granted, life may bring you to your knees (it will), but as Morris says, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”

If the last thousand days have taught me anything, it’s that any time you spend building a solid foundation or working on your interior structure is time well spent. Every minute and every hour, as uncomfortable as it may be, is gold. (Did I forget to mention that being born again is unpleasant? Well, it is. Ask any screaming baby.) Likewise, any time you spend searching for, sharing, or living the truth will set you free. Not just sort of, but really. Granted, the truth may turn your world upside down (it will). Things may get worse before they get better (they will). But if a house doesn’t already POSSESS a solid foundation or structure, isn’t it best to tear it down and start from scratch in order to have something stable, something that will last? Don’t you want something real? I’ve spent almost six years in therapy, nearly three years blogging every day, and countless hours self-improving, and I’m telling you–it’s exhausting. But I’m talking about you here. Aren’t you worth all the effort?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

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The Results (Blog #998)

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Today is blog #998 in a row, it’s two days before Christmas, and I don’t know where to start. I wish I had something profound to say. The closer I get to 1,000 blogs, the more I feel like I should. This has been a huge project–it’s changed my life–and all I can think to utter is, “Thank you for being here, I’m going to bed now.” Bed–that’s where I wish I were right this minute. Well, okay, fine, I am, but I wish I were asleep. I’ve been fighting a headache for several hours; the last thing I want to do is think and attempt to be pleasant.

Alas, I’ll going to try.

Getting back to the idea of reaching 1,000 blogs, I keep imaging something big should happen when I do. Fireworks, a parade, an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Something. More than likely, the day will come and go without fanfare. In the grand scheme of things, my 1,000th blog will “only” be one of a thousand. Granted, there will be parties, gift-giving, and plenty of celebrating, but these things will be for Jesus, not Marcus Coker. And whereas I’m not above stealing a little limelight, something tells me to let the lord have this one. It is, after all, his birthday, and it’s just one day a year.

Although to be fair, Jesus gets Easter too. The whole Holy Week if we’re being technical.

This afternoon I taught a dance lesson. And whereas the couple’s been progressing slowly, things are starting to come together. This evening I drove all the way to Fort Smith to look for a particular book I’m almost a hundred percent certain I saw at a thrift store last week, but when I got to the store it was closed for the lord’s birthday. (Some people like to drag their celebrations out). Anyway, the project I wanted the book for will simply have to wait. My point being that just like the couple I’m teaching will learn when they learn, I’ll get the book when I get it. Things happen when they happen.

Or they don’t happen at all.

More and more, I’m learning to trust the timing of things. Earlier today I was thinking about some of the most influential people in my life–my mentors–and how I came to meet them. And whereas I won’t go into all the details, suffice it to say that with each person there was a whole series of random events and connections that caused our paths to cross, things I could have never planned. For example, I had to go through hell before I found my therapist through the recommendation of a counselor friend of mine. Once I met my therapist, I thought, I should have done this sooner. And yet had I asked my counselor friend for a recommendation even a year earlier, I’m sure they would have suggested someone else–because they’d only recently met my therapist. Indeed, they originally did recommend someone else, but that person was full. At the time, I was disappointed. What if I’m missing out? I thought.

But then I met my therapist and knew–I’m right where I need to be.

It’s easy for me to look at the significant relationships in my life and think they didn’t happen by accident. But more and more I think little does. When I think of how I met and stayed in touch with my friend who recommended my therapist–wow–we’re talking about relationships that go back over thirty years, relationships that started before I was born (because my parents are–obviously–involved in this whole setup). We’re talking about me having to be in a certain place at a certain time in order to say hello to a family acquaintance I barely knew so that we could become friends and they could introduce me to their friend who eventually recommended my therapist and so on. Plus all the things that had to happen to get my therapist in the same professional circles as my friend.

Seriously, when I think about it, it boggles my mind.

What boggles my mind even more is that this sort of cosmic dancing goes on constantly. This morning I spilled a bottle full of pills and was three minutes late to a doctor’s appointment. Who knows why? Maybe I avoided an accident. Or maybe I just HAD to be part of that conversation my doctor’s secretary started with the few of us in the waiting room about what to get her male relatives for Christmas and that wouldn’t have happened three minutes earlier. I mean, I’ve been the beneficiary of someone else’s recommendation before, so who’s to say someone else can’t benefit from mine? That’s the deal on this planet. Sometimes angels are sent to you; sometimes you’re the angel that’s sent to others.

Now, you might think your two cents can’t make a difference in someone else’s life, but you’d be mistaken. Remember the widow’s mite. Remember the mustard seed. Remember God works in mysterious ways.

When I started this blog nearly 1,000 days ago, I had lots of hopes and dreams for it. I still do. But the difference between then and now is that more and more I’ve given up trying to control the whole damn thing–who reads it, what they get out of it, what they offer me in return. Like, a praise, a criticism. (So far no one’s offered to sleep with me. Kids, go to medical school. Bloggers don’t get laid. Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be writers.) But seriously, it’s precisely BECAUSE of the mysterious intricacies of life–this had to happen and this had to happen, or this couldn’t have happened–that I’ve come to the conclusion that even everyday accidents and encounters–a spilled bottle of pills, the choice to say hello, who reads my blog and what they do with it–are laced with magic and grace.

Even if we don’t see it.

Especially if we don’t see it.

Getting back to the idea that I think something big (the appearance of the Blessed Mother) should happen when I hit 1,000 blog posts, I’d like to be clear that this is purely egoic and runs counter to the traditional story of Christmas. That is, Jesus was born in a manger–with little fanfare. This is how the divine works–not by pulling up in a Mercedes Benz (or on a Mercedes Benz camel) and rolling out the red carpet for itself, but by slipping in the backdoor unnoticed. My point being that we may look at our lives and think nothing is happening. And yet all the while the gods are at work behind the scenes, setting this up, working that out. More perfectly than we ever could. This doesn’t mean we don’t have to play our part, of course. It simply means that the more we listen to our hearts and act from our souls, the less we have to worry about the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"There are a lot of benefits to being right here, right now."

Swing Sets Still to Play On (Blog #997)

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This afternoon I met some friends at a Christmas drop-in party and–quite frankly–stuffed my face with Fritos and ranch dip. My rationalization being 1) I only had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and 2) it’s the holidays. What, like I’m going let the birth of our Lord and Savior come and go without celebrating with guacamole? (I would never.) Plus, I didn’t know at the time that my friends were going to invite me out for pizza immediately after I finished my second helping of cheddar cheese cubes.

And that I would accept and eat four pieces of pizza.

While we were out to eat, my friend Aaron, who’s a graphic designer, drew a logo of sorts (pictured up top) for Me and My Therapist (the blog, not the people). I can’t tell you how excited I was. Granted, it may have been the coffee I was drinking, but still. “It’s my first fan art!” I said. Then I added, “That only took 997 days.”

When we left the restaurant, Aaron, his wife Kate, their son, and I went to a local park to look at lights and ride the train. (The park has a kid-sized choo-choo, but adults can ride too, provided they’re okay with having their knees tucked into their chins.) Unfortunately, the train wasn’t running tonight. And whereas his son didn’t seem to care (he’s four), Aaron said, “I’m disappointed. These are horrible holiday hours!”

Regrouping, we looked at lights and played on the swing set. Y’all, you should have seen their son. He was RIDICULOUSLY happy. I kept thinking, We make it so complicated, but joy really is a simple thing. A natural thing. Granted, two minutes earlier the kid was screaming bloody murder over not wanting to wear his toboggan, but maybe there’s a lesson there too. Something bothering you? Pitch a fit. Get it over with. Then move on with your life. Never speak of it again. Instead, find something to be happy about.

A swing set, maybe.

When we left the park, the four of us went back to Aaron and Kate’s house for “hot chocky,” also known as hot chocolate. This is one thing I love about having friends with a four year old. Everything’s a game. The world is new and exciting. “I’m going to take a bath!” my little friend said. “Then I’m going to put on my pajamas!” This is what I’m talking about. Making the ordinary extraordinary.

When we were at the park Aaron stepped in dog crap, and–because Aaron and Kate said their house was a no dookie zone–their son made up a song about it–“No Dookie House.” Well, the next thing I knew, Aaron, his son, and I were doing a Facebook Live video in which we all sang the song. (If you’d like to sing along, the words are “no dookie house, no dookie house, no dookie house.”) Talk about turning lemons into lemonade.

This is the power of perspective.

Kate said my blog tonight should be titled NO DOOKIE HOUSE or DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, which is what the side of her son’s hot chocolate mug said tonight. The joke being the mug had a picture of the Morton Salt Girl on it along with that saying. (Don’t worry, Focus on the Family, the kid can’t read yet.) And whereas I haven’t decided WHAT I’m going to call the blog tonight (that’s one of the last things I do), I think either would be appropriate. Like, for NO DOOKIE HOUSE, don’t bring crap that belongs outside your home inside. I’m speaking of both your physical home and your emotional home (your heart). Have some boundaries. Give yourself the luxury of a drama-free zone.

For DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, I’d say, “Don’t be a salty bitch–all the time.” Because, let’s face it, a little saltiness, a little flavor, never hurt anyone. This being said, we all know people who abuse the privilege, people who bitch and moan and gripe and complain and simply refuse to be satisfied no matter what. To say the least, this is unfortunate. Yes, life is hard. Sometimes we step in shit and then step in shit again. I’m not suggesting you be happy about your challenges. But I am suggesting that whatever is under your skin does’t have to stay there until you die. No matter what’s happened to you, you don’t have to go through life bitter and angry and jealous. You’re allowed to let go, to move on, to forgive. Not for anyone else, but for you. I highly suggest you do this–whatever it takes. Because you only have one life, and there are swing sets still to play on.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

On Internal Versus External Validation (Blog #996)

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Last night my throat started tickling, and today I woke up sick. Sinus troubles strike again. Talk about a bummer. I’ve felt like half a bag (but not a full bag) of ass all day. This being said, it’s still been a fun a productive Winter Solstice (the darkest day of the year). This morning I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holidays with her son and grandchildren. Then when I got home, despite my intention to blog and “get it over with” and in an effort to listen to my body, I took a nap. Then I went out to eat with my friends Aaron and Kate and Justin and Ashley (our waiter joined us for the above photo) to celebrate my upcoming 1,000th blog post in a row, which–God willing and the creek don’t rise–will happen on Christmas day.

And no, I didn’t plan that on March 31, 2017, when I made my first post. I’m good at math but not THAT good.

Once I read that any meditation you do consistently for 1,000 days will positively affect your subtle body, your subtle body consisting of your chakras. And whereas I don’t know if this is true (and if it is true it’d be difficult to prove because the changes would be subtle), I do know that almost 1,000 days of blogging has transformed me for the better. This is something I could go on and on about (and have), but suffice it to say that not only has my writing improved (which was the original goal), but so has my relationship with myself (and therefore with others).

Along these lines, one thing my therapist and I have discussed is seeking internal validation versus external validation. With internal validation, you say, “Even if nobody else gets it or cares, I know who I am.” You say, “I’m a damn fine dance teacher and an excellent writer. I’m hot. I’m good in the sack.” Or whatever. You say, “I like myself–warts and all.” Conversely, with external validation, you look to others and their responses to tell you who you are. Depending on whether they praise you, criticize you, laugh at your jokes, or laugh at you, your ego either soars or flops. A look from a total stranger makes you or breaks you. You want everyone else’s approval, and you’ll do anything to get it.

Everyone else’s puppet, one day you’re up, the next day you’re down.

This is one of the biggest positive changes I’ve experienced since starting therapy and this blog–the shift from external validation (from being a people pleaser) to internal validation (to being a me pleaser). Not that it’s all about me, me, me (although, granted, I do have a blog with me in the title), but it is about listening to my internal guidance and the voice of my soul over the opinions of others. This includes the opinions of my family, my friends, my acquaintances, total strangers, pretty boys, and–yes–even my therapist. Of course, I try to listen to what others have to say. Hell, I pay my therapist for her opinions. But ultimately I’m the one who decides what’s best for me because this is my life and I’m the one responsible for it.

Likewise, I’m the one responsible for my happiness. Others are welcome to disagree with my viewpoints and philosophies, tell me I’m a rotten dancer or human being, and tell me to fuck off, Jack. And sure, I might be upset by these things. But give me some time–enough time to write a blog post–and I’ll be fine. Because nobody–but nobody–gets to tell ME how to feel about ME.

Nobody–but nobody–gets to tell YOU how to feel about YOU.

One both subtle and not-so-subtle change that’s occurred over the last 996 days is that more and more external EVENTS aren’t able to tell me how I feel about myself either. What I mean is that I used to feel a lot of pride and self-worth if I looked good, felt good, and had money. On the flip side, I’d feel a lot of shame and embarrassment if I looked not-so-good, felt like a bag of ass, and didn’t have money. When I was sick I’d feel less than, inferior to healthy people, to doctors. When I couldn’t pay for things, to people who could. And not that I don’t have these thoughts anymore, but having made a consistent effort to connect with my own good heart on a regular basis, I now have these thoughts in their proper perspective.

You know how you can hold your hands close to a lightbulb and create a large shadow on the wall? And you know how you can move your hands away from the lightbulb and the shadow will get smaller? This is what I mean by proper perspective. It’s not that the opinions of others, your own health and wellbeing, and your finances don’t make a difference. They do. No one is immune to criticism, it sucks, sucks, sucks to be sick, and groceries don’t buy themselves. Our challenges create shadows on the wall.

How big, however, is up to us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one is immune from life’s challenges.

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Today’s Special (Blog #994)

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Tonight I’m blogging on my phone–old school, one letter at a time–because yesterday I installed (my friend Justin installed) a new battery in my laptop, and part of the installation process is to completely drain the battery and leave the device turned off for five hours. Well, the leaving it turned off part is happening now. And whereas I’d probably be okay to turn it back on to blog (I’m not sure exactly when it died because I left it running while I was gone this afternoon), I’d rather be safe than sorry. The way I see it, technologically “roughing it” now and then makes me all the more grateful for the days when I don’t have to.

Which, to be clear, is most of them.

This afternoon I did some thrift shopping for craft projects then ended up at my aunt’s house. Together we thumbed through some of her craft odds and ends, did a few handyman jobs, and ate a late lunch for me and an early dinner for her. Anyway, while we were at her kitchen table I got absolutely captivated by some of her holiday decorations– two small vases full of red glass rocks.

It’s weird how your memory works. As I was taking the above picture, I realized the vases and red rocks reminded me of a television show I used to watch as a child–Today’s Special, about a department store mannequin (Jeff) who comes to life after all the customers leave. Specifically, I recalled an episode–my favorite–in which Jeff and his friends get trapped in a dungeon and have to retrieve a magic potion (a red liquid in a glass jar) from a window ledge in order to escape.

Well, thank God for the miracle of the internet because earlier tonight I was able to find that specific episode–called “Adventure”–on YouTube and rewatch it for the first time in over thirty years. What a trip! And whereas I’d forgotten a few details, like the fact that there’s a mouse (a puppet) in the department store who always speaks in rhyme, most of the time I was like, Oh yeah, I remember that!

And I was spot-on about the red liquid in the glass jar.

The basic plot of the episode is that the magician who first turned Jeff into “a real boy” has been cursed and shrinks every time he sneezes. Enter the need for the magic potion in the dungeon (in a land far, far away). How are Jeff and his friends going to get there? They have a genie in a bottle, of course (you gotta rub him the right way). Anyway, the genie gets the rescue crew to the remote land, but, like all good heroes, they’re faced with a few challenges. They have to touch a giant lizard on its nose. They have to find the potion. Then in order to reach the potion from its perch, they have to work together.

As a child I remember being so scared of some of the details–the lizard, the dungeon, the shrinking magician. I thought, What if they don’t make it? As an adult, it was no big deal, no fear. Granted, I’d seen the show before and knew it ended well, but perhaps that’s the point. As we get older, wiser, we should realize that there are fewer and fewer things to be scared of. Because we’ve figured out it’s all going to be okay.

From a mythological standpoint, the episode offers a lot of symbolism. For example, the heroes have to touch (slay) a lizard (dragon). This means–sooner or later–we all have to face our fears. This sucks, but the good news is, it’s never as difficult as you think it is. When Jeff touches the lizard, it disappears. That’s the deal–you face your fears, they vanish. Then you think, What was all the fuss about?

Next our heroes get stuck in the dungeon, which represents our shadow or unconscious and means we’ve gotta go underground to find the good stuff, to become a whole person. Then there’s the whole working as a team to get the potion part, which means none of us get through life alone. We’re all in this together.

So don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Both as a child and anytime I’ve thought of Today’s Special since, I’ve assumed the show title was an incomplete sentence. I saw special as a noun. Like, today’s special is roast beef on rye, today’s special is chicken salad and potato chips. Now that I’m learning to appreciate the gift of life (and high speed technology) more and more, I think of the show title as a complete sentence. I see special as an adjective. Like, today IS special.

So often we think of our days as ordinary. We go thrift shopping. We see our family. We take these miracles for granted. And yet one day, like a laptop battery, we die. All of a sudden, what we wouldn’t give for one more ordinary day. One more special day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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