The Gift of Indifference (Blog #977)

Today I’ve been thinking about power.

I’ll explain.

According to Caroline Myss, life is about power. To help people become aware of their own power, she often asks audience members, “Do you want my magic marker?” Of course, no one does. Think about it. Unless you have a strange fetish for Sharpies, it’s like, Whatever, lady, I don’t need your pen. I’m just fine without it. “THAT’S how you SHOULD feel when something has NO POWER over you,” she says.

Conversely, we all know what it feels like when something–or someone–HAS power over us. Yesterday I blogged about my being jealous of or wanting approval from other (in my opinion, better) swing dancers, and this is what I’m talking about, that feeling that you NEED something from someone else. If you personally don’t give a shit what some Lindy Hop guru thinks of you, good. Also, this illustrates that someone could easily HOLD POWER over me but BE A MAGIC MARKER to you. Still, even if this is the case, I guarantee there’s SOMETHING or SOMEONE you want something from, something or someone who pulls you out of your authenticity. Because that’s the deal. When you GIVE your power away to someone else, you quite literally give part of your life to them to manage for you. In the extremes this looks like being someone else’s whipping boy, bitch, or puppet, which is what the story of Pinocchio is about. At first anyone could make him do anything, but the more he listened to HIS conscience, the more REAL he became and the less others could control him.

Along these lines, how many times have you said, “I can’t, you decide”? Or, “What do YOU think I should do?”? I’m not saying it’s the end of the world to ask someone else’s opinion or advice, but when someone else says jump and you start hopping, that’s a problem. Here’s another, more specific way to dig into this. If you were going to move, change jobs, start a relationship, or, hell, go out to dinner tomorrow, whose approval would you need first? You might think this is a ridiculous question, and on one level it is. You shouldn’t need ANYONE’S approval to go to the International House of Pancakes. But on another level, we all know people who stay in miserable towns, jobs, and marriages because they’re afraid of disappointing their parents, spouses, friends, or god.

Recently I blogged about how one person can influence another (and to be clear, that influence can be positive just as well as negative), and used the example of a man my dad met in prison who introduced our family to the Old Testament Law. And whereas I could go on for days about how our lives changed thanks to this introduction, the long and the short of it is I stopped eating bacon. In terms of tonight’s conversation, I now see that I’d given my power away. Specifically, I gave up my POWER TO CHOOSE between a roast beef and ham sandwich. Instead, I let someone else (my dad’s friend, my dad, the Old Testament, God) do that for me. I did this because, as I told my chiropractor who deals with emotions today, “I was AFRAID God was going to WAX MY ASS if I didn’t obey him.”

“Wax your ass?” he said. “Now THAT would be an interesting sensation.”

At which point we both laughed.

Because this has been on my mind so much lately and because I think this is hugely important, here’s ANOTHER way to look at this issue of power. This afternoon I went to the Fort Smith Public Library for their annual rare and vintage book sale. (Y’all know I love a good book with an attractive cover.) Well, right off the bat I noticed an old set of eight illustrated books about the human body–the circulatory system, the nervous system, etc. And whereas I’m not a doctor or a biologist, I got sucked right in. The drawings are so pretty, I thought. The covers are gorgeous–pristine. And all for $35. But then I thought, You have no NEED for these, Marcus. And don’t kid yourself–you’re NEVER going to read them. So I put them down like a hot potato, browsed around the room, and ultimately walked away empty handed.

But of course I had my $35.

My point in telling this story is that we all know that googly-eyed feeling of being drawn in by a pretty object or person. This is what it feels like when your power LEAVES YOU. Again, I’m not saying it’s bad to desire something (it’s kind of fun actually), but I am saying–let’s be clear–anytime you start acting like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (I WANTS IT), you’re under a spell. If you get the thing–or person–home later and have buyer’s remorse, maybe you didn’t completely give away your power car, but you definitely gave up the wheel for a while.

My therapist says the natural state of the universe is neutral, and more and more neutrality is my goal. This looks like me being real middle-of-the-road about how much money I have, whether or not other people like me or want to take me to bed, and how the rest of the world perceives me. I have a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous who says that when thinking about people who have absolutely done you wrong, you don’t want to seething-hate them, but you don’t want to squishy-love them either. “Your goal is indifference,” they say. This is the same thing as being neutral.

You WANT them to be a magic marker.

If being indifferent sounds cold, maybe it is. My therapist says when it comes to money, she has ice water running through her veins. But what this really means is that she’s NOT ATTACHED to money or the things it can buy. That is, they have NO POWER over her. Consequently, she’s a badass business woman. So she can walk into a car dealership and, even if she adores a certain vehicle, if the price isn’t right, she can walk away. This is the gift of indifference. This is what neutrality really is, being empowered enough to not feel like you HAVE to buy the thing, take the miserable job, or do what someone else wants. It’s having YOUR power, YOUR spirit, at home in YOUR body and NOT somewhere else.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

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Me As I Am (Blog #976)

A year ago tonight, as part of a dance routine, I jumped over my friend Matt’s head and tore my ACL. As I’ve joked since, I didn’t stick the landing. But seriously, y’all, it was an ordeal. Although I didn’t feel much pain during or after the injury, it was bad enough that I had to have surgery three weeks later (the day after Christmas) and six months of physical therapy after that. A year out, I’m proud to say I’ve come a long way. I can dance again. I can–sort of–hop. Granted, I still have trouble lowering myself down using only my left leg, but considering the fact that this time last year it took three people and fifteen minutes to change my pants, I’ll take it.

Perspective is everything.

For the last year I’ve wondered exactly what happened that night. The answer I’ve given anyone who’s asked is that maybe I landed wrong, like didn’t get feet underneath me or whatever. Maybe the floor was slick. Maybe it was my shoes. They WERE way too big for my feet. Well, until this last week I never had the courage to watch the video and find out. (That’s right, my disaster was caught on film.) I kept thinking, I don’t want to WATCH my body falling apart. But this last week I finally got the guts. I thought, The worst is over, I can handle it. I want to know what happened.

So I watched the video.

Best I can tell, I didn’t get quite high enough, then my left foot landed before my right one on a bit of an angle. Then the worst happened. Check out the still from the video below. It looks like I’m impersonating Elvis Presley, but in fact my left knee is going out to lunch. Don’t worry–I’m NOT going to share the actual video (but our rehearsal from the night before is posted at the conclusion of tonight’s blog). The injury is honestly not TOO painful to watch, but it’s not comfortable either. The difficult part I have trouble viewing is the rest of the routine, in which my face flinches and my body flops around like a fish out of water. I guess I’m embarrassed to show it. Still, looking back, I’m proud I finished the routine at all. Once it was over, I couldn’t even stand on my own. Matt had to assist me off the dance floor, at which point I sat down and didn’t stand unassisted for over two weeks.

In other words, I’m pretty much a badass for not collapsing as soon as the injury occurred.

I’ve spent most of today lying in bed, resting and watching Lindy Hop videos. There’s a big competition this weekend, and they’re live-streaming the finals for all the contests. Before my injury, I would have been jealous. I would have compared myself to the best in the world and thought, They’re so much better than I am. I wish that were me. Having survived last year’s trauma, however, now I’m just happy to be able to dance at all. Several of the couples I watched today–honestly–screwed up some of their lifts. Nobody I saw limped off the dance floor, but the fact is that even if you’re an awesome dancer and rehearse something a hundred times, things can still go wrong. Shit happens. Your life can change in the blink of an eye.

So be grateful.

I’ve thought about this a lot today, the idea that we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others. And for what? Recently I’ve been culling my Facebook friends, and a number of the people I’m digitally divorcing are people I’ve looked up to, been jealous of, and wanted approval from for one reason or another. Alas, for all my wanting to be seen by and approved of by these people, I’ve gotten peanuts. (They have their own problems.) This is just as well. I could spend the next ten years wanting someone else’s talent, and it will never be mine because it belongs to them. (What’s theirs is theirs and what’s mine is mine.) Absent my judgment of or wanting something from someone else, their talent IS mine, in that I get to watch and enjoy it. This is what I’ve really leaned into this last year–I know what I’ve got and I know what I don’t got, and that’s okay. Talent or no talent, looks or no looks, knees that work or don’t, I have everything I need in order to love, be loved, and be happy. In short, I have me.

Not me as I wish I were, but me as I am.

This is enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Each season has something to offer.

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On Going with the Flow (Blog #972)

As someone who can usually be found reading, I rarely get out in nature. I mean, I walk around my neighborhood on a regular basis, but I don’t, like, hike. That being said, I enjoy hiking. I just never think to do it. If I look at my calendar and spot a free afternoon, I don’t reach for my boots, I reach for my books. Still, I’ve read that being outside is good for you, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. So get this shit. I recently ran into a friend and former student (when I impulsively stopped at Hobby Lobby to pick up supplies for a fix-it project I’ve been putting off for over a year) who said they loved to hike and wanted to get back into it. “Text me sometime,” I said, “I’d love to tag along.”

Well, they did, and I did. This morning my friend and I met at Lake Fort Smith and ended up hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail for three and a half hours. And whereas the total length of the trail is about a hundred and sixty-five miles, we went five and a half, which both I and my hips were more than fine with. But seriously, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed being outside, (heavily) breathing fresh air, listening to running water, and reconnecting with and getting to better know someone with similar interests.

When we finished hiking and I got back to town, I drove by Village Inn because my dad, my aunt, and a family friend of ours go there every week for Free Pie Wednesday. I earned a slice of pie today, I thought. Maybe I can catch “the crew” and join in the fun. And whereas I didn’t see their car in the parking lot, when I called my aunt she said they were on their way. “Ill grab a table,” I said. Well, it was everything I dreamed of and more. We laughed and laughed, and the pie was delicious.

Last night on a whim my dad suggested going out to our friend’s house, where I’d never been. “What else are you doing?” he said. “He has an Elvis Presley collection that’s to die for.”

“What the hell,” I said.

Y’all, just like today, it was the best time. Stepping into our friend’s house was like stepping into a time warp. His furniture was retro and cool, and–just like Dad promised–Elvis was everywhere–on the calendar, the Christmas tree, and the roll-out carpet. On the wall there was even a picture of Elvis in his underwear. (“That was worth the trip,” I said later.) Anyway, visiting in our friend’s kitchen I thought, Life is so random. One minute you’re sitting at home staring at Facebook, and the next you’re in a whole new world, The World of Velvet Elvis. And whereas some people might judge our friend for having SO MUCH Elvis paraphernalia (how gauche!), I thought it was absolutely delicious. More and more I think, Am I going to judge my experience, or embrace it?

This evening I had a free hour and called my friend Justin to see if he wanted to catch up. “We could walk the dog I’m sitting,” I said. Well, Justin was in the middle of something but said it could wait. “Why don’t you come pick me up?” he suggested. Again, this on-a-whim meeting was fabulous. We laughed, we cried, it was better than Cats.

At one point on our hike today, my friend and I stopped to snack on the bank of a fast-moving creek. “The water is so powerful,” I said, my thought being that it didn’t look like something you’d want to fight against. Rather, it looked like something that could carry you along. Anyway, that’s Justin, he doesn’t insist on a rigid schedule; he lets life move him. When I dropped him back off at his house I said, “One thing I really appreciate about you is your ability to be spontaneous.” He explained, “I figure one way or the other our plans will eventually get wrecked.” Exactly. So better to go with the flow and happily accept random adventures than swim upstream and insist on having it your way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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On Teaching Your Mind to Heal (Blog #970)

The last two nights I’ve posted my blogs between two and three in the morning. And whereas I’m a self-professed night owl, this seriously can’t happen tonight. Therefore, I’m writing now, at five in the evening. However, since I have somewhere to be at six, this has got to be short. I’ve got this hangup about thinking things must be a certain way–perfect–but if the dog I’m house sitting for can spend three hours every morning in the bed next to me licking himself, then I can do myself the kindness of writing a shorter blog.

But seriously, he licks himself SO MUCH. His slurping is SO LOUD.

Maybe I’ve just gotten hyper sensitive to sounds in my old age.

Maybe I’m jealous.

While I’m talking about this dog, y’all, you should see him. I don’t know what breed he is, but he’s big. That’s it, he’s a big breed. A little dinosaur, really. Anyway, twice I day I wrangle him into his collar and leash, and we walk around the neighborhood. No, I take that back, he DRAGS me around the neighborhood. And whereas I stay MOSTLY in control, there are times when my left knee (the one I had surgery on) isn’t quite “with it.” Sometimes when he’s surprised and darts toward a squirrel or another dog, it’s all I can do to keep my shoulder in its socket.

Naturally, this situation is frustrating. Behave! I think. But the fact is the dog simply hasn’t been TRAINED to sit still when having its collar and leash put on or to HEEL while walking. Short of this training, of course, he’s just a wild beast. A savage animal dragging around a homosexual on the beat-up streets of Fort Smith, Arkansas.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions, and a word that came up was compulsive. “That’s a familiar emotion,” I said, thinking about how I stayed up for an hour last night scouring the internet for one of my favorite songs, Style by Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby. (This song used to be my alarm clock; now my alarm clock is a big dog licking himself.) And whereas I easily found the song itself, I couldn’t for the life of me find the PARTICULAR VERSION that I wanted (and used to have but lost in a hard drive crash three years ago). Anyway, I kept thinking, Just message your friend Charles in the morning. (Charles has a music library worthy of the Smithsonian.) Still, I couldn’t let it go. I kept looking and looking–to no avail. Thankfully–finally–I gave up and went to bed.

The good news–Charles had what I was looking for and more (outtakes, etc.). If you’re interested, the BASIC song is below. What’s missing and what I have now–thanks, Chuck–is the part where, just after singing this whole song about dressing up and having style and class, Dean Martin says, “Come on, get some clothes on or we’ll be late for breakfast.” Hilarious.

Getting back to the idea of being compulsive, it occurs to me that if you’re in the habit of obsessing or worrying about something or someone, it’s just because your mind’s been trained to drag your around–either by yourself or someone else (like your parents). If you’re NOT calm and peaceful, especially when you’re simply sitting in a perfectly calm and peaceful living room staring at your computer, it’s only because you haven’t trained yourself to be. This is where the practices of slowing down, being mindful, and meditation come in. Any sort of discipline will work. My mind used to kick up a fuss about sitting down and writing every day, but now it’s just the way it is. I actually get excited about it. At least with respect to blogging, my mind has learned to heel.

Or, if you prefer, to heal.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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Settle In, Get Comfortable (Blog #968)

This afternoon I finished reading the book I referenced yesterday, Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Overcome Gut Sensitivities, Inflammation, Brain Fog, Autoimmunity, Anxiety, Depression by Dr. Navaz Habib. The book suggests several PASSIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like massage therapy, chiropractic care, and acupuncture–as well as dozens of ACTIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like belly breathing through your nose, humming or chanting, listening to music, gargling, practicing mindfulness or meditation, laughing and connecting socially, and exposing yourself to sunlight. (Important note: I said TO not IN.) I’m all about this active stuff. What can I do at home to calm myself down and heal?

More importantly, what can I do on a budget?

One thing I noted while going through Dr. Habib’s book was the fact that I’ve recently been organically drawn to several of his suggestions. For example, deep breathing, cold exposure, and yoga or pilates. I’ve said before that I believe not only that our bodies know how to heal but also that we are guided to what we need, and this is what I mean. When something is right for your body, I think you’ll be attracted to it. Now, does this mean you’ll wake up one day and start CRAVING broccoli instead of chocolate cake? Doubtful. But you’ll likely start thinking, That looks interesting. I should check that out. I should stop doing THIS and start doing THAT.

Follow your hunches.

More and more I don’t think healing, or at least the habits that promote healing, are complicated. For example, two things I immediately implemented–well, started–right after I finished the vagus nerve book were 1) installing blue-light blocking software on my laptop and phone and 2) listening to classical music. The idea behind the blue-light blocking software is that blue light signals to our bodies that it’s stay-awake time even when it’s not, so by installing a filter on your electronic devices (or turning them off altogether two hours before bedtime), you won’t disrupt your natural sleep rhythms. And whereas–I admit–my sleep rhythms are less than ideal, I can at least stop adding to the problem by staring at blue screen.

Instead, I can stare at a red one.

Currently it’s 10:30 at night, and I’ve been listening to classical music–Mozart–for the last two hours. (On my streaming service I found an album elegantly titled 50 Mozart Masterworks you Have to Listen to Before You Die.) And whereas I’ve never been a big “fan” of classical music, I’m enjoying this. I guess the idea behind the suggestion is that our bodies (and vagus nerves) respond to what we listen to. As a dancer, this makes sense to me. I listen to Lady Gaga and I feel and move fast and punchy. I listen to a waltz and I feel and move gracefully. Anyway, I’ve had violins and orchestras in my ears for a good while tonight, and I do feel calmer. It’s almost impossible to get upset or hurried about anything. The average song on the radio is three minutes and thirty seconds, and the first classical piece I listened to tonight (“Sonata for Two Pianos”) was twenty-four, so that fact alone told my brain, “You might as well settle in and get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

This is the perfect attitude to take toward life, of course. Settle in, get comfortable. Just now (well, nearly two hours ago) I got distracted and started downloading previously uploaded music from my music streaming service because I read they’ll soon be going out of business. And not that I HAVE to have all 1,715 songs I uploaded over five years ago (because I’ve lived this long without them), but I might as well. My point being that because this service won’t let you download your music all at once, you have to go album by album. Well, tonight I downloaded over forty-five albums, over 800 songs altogether, and–seriously–the classical music has helped. Normally I’d be pulling my hair out. But tonight I’m like, Whatever, there’s no hurry here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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The Stiller You Are (Blog #965)

A few quick things before my dad and I go to the gym and hopefully work off some of the tater-tot casserole we just ate. And yes, tater-tot casserole is a thing. Get thee behind me Satan.

I mean, get thee inside me.

1. On slowing down

Today I lay in bed reading a book I started–I don’t know–in May. I’ve had my nose poked in numerous other books lately (thank God I have a lot of bookmarks), but saw this book last night and got re-interested. Anyway, my original plan was to go to the library this afternoon, but after I started reading this book I decided to stay home. I thought, You don’t always have to be running around. So back to my bed, back to my book I went. What’s the lesson, kids?

Everything else can wait.

2. On silence

Yesterday while I was at the library watching videos, there was a moment when one video ended before the next one started and there was complete silence. Y’all, I nearly flipped out. It was–what’s the word?–unsettling. I guess in today’s world there’s always SOMETHING going on. In my world, there’s always something going IN–tater tots in my mouth, noise in my ears, knowledge in my head. Today I read so much–a hundred and fifty pages of small print–that my eyes started hurting. Y’all, I FINISHED my book, but I kept thinking I needed to read more, to finish ANOTHER BOOk. Now I’m sitting near my window and can hear the rain falling. THIS is what I need, this fundamental reconnection with the basic stillness of life.

3. On knowing thyself

Ever since I started therapy I’ve kept a list of things to talk to my therapist about. And whereas in the beginning I would jot down the list on a piece of paper (or a paint stick that my therapist and I started calling The Paint Stick of Truth) and later throw it away, for the last couple years I’ve kept the list on my computer. (Please don’t hack me; you might see your name.) And whereas I’ve been seeing my therapist for almost six years, we never run out of things to talk about. The list continues to grow.

Often during the last ten minutes of my therapy session I will begin to freak out, like, But there’s stuff on the list we haven’t talked about. This is, of course, the same anxiety I experience when I read only one book a day or look at my bank account–the anxiety of THERE’S NOT ENOUGH (time, information, money). But the truth is–there is. The truth is I’m constantly overwhelmed with time and attention from my therapist, just as I am overwhelmed with information. I’ve probably learned more this year than some of my ancestors learned in a decade. And whereas I’m not to the point I’m willing to say that I’ve been overwhelmed with money, I am willing to say that I’ve seen A LOT of it come and come. So maybe I am overwhelmed with money.

But I’m also overwhelmed with Amazon.

Getting back to my therapy list, I realized today that because I often prioritize my list, it’s become a perfect way for me to know not only WHAT mentally and emotionally drains me, but also HOW MUCH it drains me. Once my therapist said, “If someone or somethings is showing up on your list over and over again, that’s a good sign there’s something wrong.” Her solution? Boundaries, of course. My point being that even if you don’t see a therapist and make a list, it’s important to know what’s under your skin and who’s got your goat. You could even ask your friends, “Is there something I bitch about all the time? What do you think I can’t let go of?” And then stop bitching about it, let go of it. I realize it’s not “that easy,” of course, but I’m saying–start dealing with it. Not just for your benefit, but also for everyone else’s.

The stiller you are, the stiller we are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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Gimmeabreak (Blog #964)

Last night I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning watching videos about symbols, religions, and conspiracy theories. Conspiracy theories–there’s a rabbit hole I’ve been down more than once and always tell myself I’m NOT going down again. Not that I don’t find them fascinating. I do. Who DOESN’T love a good secret society? It’s just that the theories are SO overwhelming. The world is run by bankers, who are controlled by aliens, who built the pyramids. Y’all, I’m open to A LOT of possibilities, but gimmeabreak. Isn’t this idea a little TOO fantastic? I know, I know, that’s what those pyramid-building aliens want me to think. I’m just a pawn in their game. Fine. Whatever.

Could someone just tell me what’s for dinner?

This afternoon I slept in until 1:30, the latest I’ve slept lately. Anyway, because I didn’t have anything other than snoring on my schedule, I quickly decided to make today a library day. I’ll watch more conspiracy videos, I thought, maybe pay bills. This is exactly what I did. For two hours I watched videos while simultaneously using Google to fact check, then paid bills. And whereas in my head I’ve been making a big deal about paying bills for the last two weeks–like, it’s going to be awful, it’s going to suck–it wasn’t a big deal at all. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it. Not because I have a ton of money in the bank and it’s SO FUN to give it to my creditors, but because I rather enjoy math and balancing checkbooks.

I’ve said before that I have a lot of hangups around money. Thankfully, my hangups have gotten much better, and one of the things that’s helped me is the idea that money–paying bills and balancing your checkbook–is just math. Especially now that everything is electronic, money really is a matter of just moving numbers around. Anyway, I realized I used to do this all the time for an attorney I worked for and that it was never emotional for me. It was just addition and subtraction (which I’m good at). Only later, when it became MY MONEY, did it became emotional. That’s when I started to think, There’s not enough, there’s not enough. But lately I’ve been coming back to the idea that regardless of whether there’s a plus sign or a minus sign in front of the numbers in my checkbook register, in reality, I’m just sitting in a chair doing math.

More and more, it’s important for me to come back to reality. If I don’t, my mind can really get carried away. A year ago just the thought of paying bills would send me into a tailspin. I’d think, I’m going to end up living under a bridge, I just know it. Talk about a conspiracy theory. A conspiracy to make myself miserable. My heart would race and everything. But today when I paid bills my heart didn’t miss a beat. Not because my finances have improved, but because I have. Because I finally decided to stop making such a big production out of such a little thing. (Imagine a Hollywood-sized musical about my credit card bills here.) Because I’ve scared myself to death with visions of living in a van down by the river before, and talk about an idea that’s a little TOO fantastic. Yes, let’s come back to reality. You’re sitting in a chair doing math. It’s not the end of the world.

That won’t happen until the aliens come back.

I know, I know, they’re already here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All the while, we imagine things should be different than they are, but life persists the way it is.

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On Every Holy Breath (Blog #963)

Something I’ve been thinking about today is the question, “How much of my time do I spend disliking my life?” Not that I have these huge gripes about my life, but I do have plenty of little gripes about it. This hurts; that hurts. This body part is too big; that body part is too small. These people are all right, but those people suck (a lot). This place could be better. I don’t have enough money (but seriously). Granted, this inner dialogue isn’t constant, but it’s there and it’s consistent. That’s the point of the question.

I have a limited about of time here on earth. How much of it do I spend complaining?

For me, answering this question with any significant amount of time is–in a word–regrettable. Because more and more I’m reminded that in order for me to even be here (on the planet), a long line of cosmic happenings and human relationships had to happen first. At some point (in December of 1979) a single sperm had to beat out millions of other sperms in order to connect with a single ovum. Talk about a miracle! What were the chances? Simply put, my life–and all that it encompasses–is a gift. For me to treat any part of it as anything less than sacred is–quite frankly–missing the point.

I’m ALIVE.

This perspective that your individual life is unique, precious, and worthy of the deepest reverence and respect is a game-changer. This afternoon I went to a new doctor’s office, and rather than thinking that this wasn’t good enough and that wasn’t good enough, I was simply grateful for a comfortable place to sit and the smiling face sitting across from me. Later I went out for Vietnamese soup (pho) and stayed for an hour to read. And whereas part of me kept thinking I “should” be doing something else (like, whatever I’m doing right now isn’t good enough), I kept reminding myself that I could just as easily honor this life in this moment. Rather than grousing, I could be grateful. I have food to eat. I have a book to read (and I CAN read). I forgot to make a payment on a credit card, but when I asked, the company reversed the late fee.

I’m okay.

Every breath you take is holy.

This evening, out of nowhere, I was hit with a feeling of sadness. I have a few theories about why this may be, but chances are it’s because there’s a certain amount of grief to be felt when you truly realize how much of your fine and irreplaceable life has been wasted wishing you were someone other than who you are, living a life other than the one you have. For those who are open to the idea of reincarnation, I’ve heard that in earth years our souls spend about 150 years planning and getting ready for a single (spectacular) lifetime. We don’t just role the dice and show up in Alaska. We pick our ethnicity, our sexuality, our parents (hard to believe, I know). I obviously can’t prove this theory, but it’s one I like because it reminds me to–Stop complaining, Marcus. Being alive is a big deal. Every breath you take is holy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

It’s Not the End of the World (Blog #962)

Phew. This last week I committed a lot of food sins. I ate hamburgers and fries, chocolate cake, and peanut butter and jelly–from the jar. And whereas I enjoyed every minute of it, there was a price to pay. From a week ago today, this morning I was up four pounds. Yowza. Most of the day I haven’t been sure how I feel about this, but this evening I decided I might as well like it–since what’s done is done and I although I can’t immediately change the results, I can change how I think about them. Like, It’s not the end of the world, and maybe a few extra pounds will keep me from freezing to death.

The weather has been cold lately.

Partly because my weight was up and partly because I’ve been doing it one day a week anyway, today I’ve fasted. This afternoon I went to the movie theater with friends to see Charlie’s Angels and actually turned down hot buttered popcorn. Twice. Talk about willpower. That being said, if someone walked into this room right now and offered me dinner consisting solely of my leather dress shoes (get it, solely?), I’d accept.

With some ketchup, of course.

I’m not a complete barbarian.

In addition to giving my body a chance to cleanse from last night’s indulgences (I went to a wedding and a birthday party and ate a total of four platefuls of food and three pieces of cake), today’s fasting is reminding me of the importance of balance. Not that every meal has to be balanced, but like, if you overdo it, you should–at some point–underdo it. I think this is why my therapist is such a big fan of my using this period of my life to slow down and chill out. I’ve spent so many years go, go, going, it’s like I need the rest. Not just because my body is sometimes tired, but also because, as she says, the natural state of the universe is neutral. Meaning that what goes up, MUST come down.

Did you hear that, bathroom scales?

One thing about not eating all day is that it makes it harder to think. Like, right now I can’t quite put my finger on what I’d like to say. Other than, Dear lord, would someone please give me a hot dog on a bun?! That’s another thing about not eating. It makes you irritable. Not that this is the worst thing. Recently I heard that if you trust someone, you could ask them, “What do you think I should know about myself but are afraid to tell me because you don’t think I’d react well?” Whether you do this or not, I think it’s worth considering for yourself, and it’s why I say being irritable isn’t the worst thing. It’s good to know your triggers. What is it that makes you feel scared and vulnerable, throw a temper tantrum, act petty?

Getting back to the idea of balance, if you know what your triggers are, you can work with them consciously and therefore mitigate your own potentially volatile reactions. I’ve said before that I have a lot of triggers around money, but recently I realized that I’m already living one of my worst financial fears–being back at home with my parents and not knowing when my next paycheck is going to come along. I’ve actually been living this way for almost three years now. And you know what? It’s not that bad. Could things get worse? For sure, but what my mental, emotional, and physical triggers around money have taught me is that I can handle whatever comes along. This doesn’t help me LOVE my circumstances more, but it does help me ACCEPT them. This is huge because for the rest of my life it means I don’t have to freak out every time a circumstance is challenging.

It seems to me that a lot of life is freaking out about one thing or another–how much you weigh, how much money is in your bank account. I said recently that I’ve observed a number of supervisors backstage at musicals, and that some of them are rude and some of them are kind, but either way the work always gets done. The implication being, All things being equal, why not be kind? Along these lines, if life has taught you that you can handle whatever comes along and that everything is always fine in the end, why not stop freaking out? Or are you addicted to the drama? But seriously. So you’re weight’s up one day and down the next. So your bank account is too. You’re okay.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life proceeds at its own pace.

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The One Working the Night Shift (Blog #959)

Today I’ve been perfectly content to lie around. This morning I slept in then ate breakfast. This afternoon I watched a television show and a movie. Then for lunch I ate a plateful of peanut butter and jelly. No bread or anything else, just straight up high fructose corn sugar. And whereas part of me felt I was instantaneously undoing the results of all my good choices over the last several weeks (have I mentioned I’ve lost ten pounds?), another part of me knew I needed a break from strict living and enjoyed every delicious bite. My life is a constant struggle between these two forces–the hard ass and the slacker.

The party pooper (no peanut butter for you) and the partier (pass the peanut butter; and no thanks, I’ll just eat it out of the jar).

The evening, partly in an effort to make myself feel better for eating junk for lunch, I exercised at home. And whereas I didn’t go balls to the wall, it was something. Then I ate dinner (one step up from grape jelly–chips and enchiladas), then I did some myofascial release with a lacrosse ball while listening to a free audio program by Caroline Myss and Jim Curtan about how The Wizard of Oz can be used as a template for personal and spiritual growth. Now it’s almost eleven, and, quite frankly, I’m done for the day. My party pooper keeps telling me I should have done more, need to do more, but my partier (the one who would actually have to get out of this bed in order to be more productive) is pooped and keeps telling me to rest.

I wish I had something more exciting to share.

Here’s something interesting. Since starting this blog I’ve caught a decent amount of flack from others and (subsequently) myself about the fact that–most of the time–I write late at night instead of during the day like “normal” people. (Who’d want to be normal? But I digress.) And whereas I readily admit that I’m less stressed and less tired when I write during the day, I’ve found there’s a certain magic that’s present when I write under the moon as opposed to under the sun. Well, get this shit. The audio program I listened to tonight said that as a species we use our heads to make decisions during the day and our hearts to make decisions at night. Who knows why. Maybe our minds need a nap. I just think it’s fascinating that–most of the time–the things I write about here are more concerned with the heart (my heart, specifically) than with the mind. My point is, I’m not sure this project COULD be written solely during daylight hours when my heart is, apparently, less accessible.

Recently my therapist and I discussed a situation in which someone asked me to do something and my gut immediately told me not to (so I didn’t). My therapist said, “Your gut was speaking to you loud and clear, so you don’t need my confirmation, but no, I wouldn’t have done it either.” I tell this story because I’d never want anyone to think that my therapist TELLS me what to do or that she even offers me advice. Certainly not unsolicited advice. (I have family and friends for that). Rather, what she does–and what I think we’d all be better off if we did–is offer perspective, a different way of looking at the situations and relationships in my life. More than this, she AFFIRMS my own inner wisdom and ability to decide for myself. For example, she’s never once told me what I should eat (except, “if your’e going to eat sweets, eat the good shit”), when I should or shouldn’t write, or when I should go to bed or wake up.

Why not, Marcus?

Because I’m an adult, and “it’s inappropriate for one adult to tell another what to do.”

I guess I’m talking about this because we all have a lot of voices in our lives–family, friends, co-workers, pastors, counselors–who tell us what we SHOULD be doing–with our lives, jobs, lovers, wardrobes, and money. At the VERY LEAST, we all have voices in our heads that constantly criticize us and give us grief. Our inner party pooper hates our inner peanut butter eater, and so on. More and more I’m learning to trust my path (as unconventional as it may be) and disregard any voice (even a well-meaning one, even one of my own) that suggests I take a single step off of it. How do you know you’re on the right path? Easy. You listen to your heart. You get to know the one working the night shift.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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