See Above for Results (Blog #1007)

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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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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On Creating Time (Blog #1002)

Today I’ve been thinking about how we create time. (I’ll explain.) Caroline Myss says that the divine works in present time, in vertical time, where thought moves into form like a lightening flash. God says, “Let there be light,” and there is. Like, instantly, not in the amount of time it takes to earn a college degree or pass a bill through Congress. Conversely, most of us earthlings work in non-present or past and future time, in horizontal time. We say, “Let there be a pot roast,” and–well–we’re looking at waiting the better part of an afternoon, anywhere from four to eight hours for a seven pound hunk of meat using a crock pot.

How do you cook a pot roast faster, Marcus?

You turn up the heat, of course. You switch your dial from low to high.

Yesterday I touched on the idea that we can decide how quickly we want to get over something–anything from a minor irritation to a gigantic heartache–by (in part) refusing to give it our attention and thus keeping it alive. For example, this afternoon while driving I momentarily crossed into the other (wrong) lane in an effort to get into the turning lane. Well, there was a car coming down the other lane (toward me), but they were far enough away (I thought) as to not be dangerous. Alas, the lady driving the oncoming car apparently disagreed, since she laid on her horn like it was going out of style.

“Did you see her flip you the bird?” my dad said.

“No,” I said, “I try not to look at people when I KNOW they’re angry with me.”

Now, could I have handled this better? Probably. But you know how we all make in-the-moment decisions that aren’t always the best in hindsight. I figure this is part of driving. People pull out in front of me all the time, and usually (but not always) I just think they’re in a hurry or that God wants me to learn patience. Hell, maybe they’re doing me a favor, slowing me down and allowing me to miss some horrific accident down the road. You never know. God works in mysterious ways. Anyway, this afternoon when the lady flipped me off, instead of taking it personally like I have in the past, I kept hearing my therapist say, “People choose their reactions.” Like, the bird lady could have CHOSEN to be gracious.

The lesson being that people’s responses have almost everything to do with them and almost nothing to do with you. Not that I’m recommending TRYING to piss people off, but let’s face it, that lady would have flipped ANYONE off who got in her way. So it really didn’t have anything to do with me.

In other words–and here’s a phrase that’s full of grace should you choose to use it for yourself–it wasn’t personal.

Getting back to the idea of creating time, had I CHOSEN to obsess about what a rotten driver I am or what a turd bucket that lady was, I could have dragged this three-second incident out for hours, days, or weeks. Instead, it was over IN MY MIND in three minutes because I convinced myself it wasn’t worth my mental and emotional resources to keep it alive. Now, I know this example may seem silly, but let’s drive things home (in the correct lane, of course). Recently I heard a story about a woman who, upon FIRST MEETING SOMEONE told them she’d divorced her cheating husband and was absolutely in shambles because he’d fallen in love with her best friend. And whereas my therapist would say this woman had bad boundaries (because you don’t talk about your personal shit to total strangers), here’s the kicker–

all of this happened nineteen years ago.

Consequently, this woman’s body was right here, right now, but her spirit was stuck in the Clinton Administration.

This is what I mean by dragging things out and creating time. When I was with my ex there was a night I got a call from a friend who told me my ex was cheating. Deep down I knew it was true. Had I been willing to move as fast as my intuition (which, incidentally works in present time), to “change as fast as God,” it could have been over that night. I could have moved out the next day. Instead, because I didn’t want to face the truth (as is always the case when we create time), I was with him another five months. Now, I know it could have been worse–some people stay in bad situations for years, decades–but it was a miserable five months.

My aunt’s visiting from out of town this weekend, and earlier today we ended up talking about paper and clutter because we each tend to let things pile up before going through them. Anyway, she said, “I’ve read that the goal with paper is to handle it just once.” Like, you put it in its proper pile and move on with your life. Instead, most of us shuffle this here, shove that there. We say, “I’ll deal with it later.” Consequently, we drag things out and slow things down. We create time. What could be done in five seconds goes on five weeks, five years. And whereas it may not be a big deal to not deal with your TJ MAXX receipts, it is a big deal to not deal with your dramas, traumas, and relationships.

I once knew a grown woman who was absolutely petrified of dogs–any breed, any size. She could see one on a leash blocks away and start running like Florence Griffith Joyner. She never said what the deal was, so I can only assume something terrible happened when she was younger. Anyway, intuitive Robert Ohotto calls this sort of reaction “a time warp.” In other words, in present time there wasn’t a problem. Here’s a lady, there’s a dog a mile away. But in her past-oriented mind, it was a big damn deal. She would tremble. She would cry. This is why the master Jesus taught letting the dead bury the dead and giving no thought for tomorrow. Not because he was insensitive, but because there’s such a heavy price to pay for not being right here, right now.

This is why he taught forgiveness. Not because it’s a holy thing to do, but because it’s a powerful thing to do. Because it keeps you from being stuck in the past.

In the Clinton Administration.

According to Myss, the more we’re stuck or anchored in the past, the slower our life moves. “The more psychic WEIGHT you have,” she says, “the more you have to WAIT for anything [getting a new job, finding a lover, or healing] to happen.” In other words, the faster YOU change, the faster your LIFE will change. This sounds great, of course, but most of us prefer cooking our pot roasts at a slower, lower heat as opposed to a faster, hotter heat because–quite frankly–we can’t stand the heat. For one thing, most of society moves at–at best–a medium, lukewarm speed, and it’s never fun to outrun your friends and family. It’s lonely at the top and whatever. For another, most of us LIKE holding on to the past. We enjoy not forgiving.

Because we get to be right. We get to make other people feel guilty.

We get to flip total strangers the bird.

[FYI, the above pictures are of me and my friends Kate and Aaron and their son, the main connection to tonight’s blog being that they were taken tonight (when we all went out for Tacos). Although we didn’t plan it, we all wore denim jackets. This is one tie-in to creating time I considered writing about but didn’t because I want to go bed. That is, our wearing the same jackets is an example of a synchronicity, and, according to Myss, the more you live your life in present time, the more synchronicities will occur for you.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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The Results (Blog #998)

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)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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On How You Move Mountains (Blog #985)

Last night my dad and I went to the gym. I started off doing my own thing in a back corner away from Dad but eventually ended up beside him, me on an elliptical and him on a recumbent stepper. And whereas I was really going to town, breathing hard and everything, he was like, moving at a snail’s pace. So when we both wrapped up, I said, “You’ve been on that machine for FIFTY minutes, and I’ve only been on mine for FIFTEEN. And yet you’re COMPLETELY dry and I’m DRENCHED in sweat.”

“That’s because I’m in so much better shape than you are,” he said.

Everyone’s a comedian.

This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, the upper cervical specialist who’s currently changing my life. Well, to be clear, my nervous system is changing my life. My doc is just helping my nervous system out by getting my “head on straight.” For years I’ve complained about headaches, shoulder pain, back pain, and posture problems. In only two weeks, all these things are dramatically better. This last week I didn’t have a single headache. My shoulders are less rounded. Today I told my doctor that after each treatment I experience different sensations in my body. The first time I cried. Today I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s how it goes,” he said. “It’s whatever the body wants to work on.”

What I appreciate about this form of treatment is that it views the body as innately intelligent. For at least a decade I’ve tried multiple ways to get the tight muscles in my shoulders and hips to loosen up with minimal results. Now I know those muscles were tight for a reason; my head was too far forward, and my body was trying to stay in balance. Well, now that my head is in a better position, those muscles that have been tight for years are beginning to loosen up. Just like that. Finally. Mountains are moving.

I wish I could say that this were a one-and-done miracle, but it’s more like a twenty-nine-and-done miracle, since twenty-nine visits over a year is what my doc suggested and what I agreed to. Considering my list of health problems has been growing the last few years and that my doc says his job is to take items OFF that list, the time and money I’m having to put into this are well worth it.

It’s always worth it to invest in your health.

With my 1,000th blog quickly approaching, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed for the better thanks to both nearly three years of blogging and nearly six years of therapy. Mostly I’ve been thinking about how although I’ve had a number of especially healing nights at this computer and especially healing days in therapy, I can’t put my finger on exactly WHEN I changed. You know how you look at yourself in the mirror every day. Sure, you notice a gray hair there, a little extra fat there. But until you whip out last year’s photo or try to squeeze into last season’s jeans, it doesn’t click that something’s different than it used to be. You think, When did it happen?

When did it not?

By this last question I mean that we’re always in the process of change. When it comes to going to the gym, seeing a therapist, or writing a daily blog, it’s not the individual visits or posts that change us, it’s the process itself. This afternoon I realized that I’ve recently checked out half a dozen books from an online library. Well, not only do I not have the time to read them, I also don’t have the desire. And yet my inner completionist says I should. My inner good student says there’s something to learn. But the truth is that no one fact or book is going to change me. It’s what I do with that fact or book, how I choose to integrate it into my life that makes the difference.

Along these lines, I have a personal beef with self-help posts with titles like “Twelve Thing I learned in Therapy.” Not because I don’t love a good list (I love a good list), but because I’ve read others’ lists and books until I’m blue in the face and know that lists don’t change you. Memes don’t change you either. Because they’re just words. This blog is just words. Even if they’re true words, they have no power. You, however, have plenty of power. You have the ability to take an idea and animate it. You can read “exercise” or “be kind” or “be honest,” and you can breathe your life into these ideas. Better said, you can BECOME these ideas. This is how you change yourself, this is how you change the world, and this is how you move mountains. Not with one part of you, but with the entirety of your being.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Confidence takes what you have and amplifies it. Confidence makes anyone sexy.

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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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No one dances completely alone.

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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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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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Clouds Change Like That (Blog #969)

Eeek. Maybe it’s the bed I slept in last night (I’m house sitting), but I’ve had a headache all day. And whereas I’ve been popping pills left and right (we all have our limits), nothing has helped. Well, I won’t say that. (You just did, Marcus.) Nothing has COMPLETELY helped. Still, it’s been a good and productive day. Last night I went down the rabbit hole of downloading a bunch of previously uploaded music from my streaming service because I read that the service would soon be going out of business (who knows if it’s true?), so, despite a few hangups this afternoon (like not having enough space on my hard drive and having to shuffle things around to my virtual drive), I got ‘er done.

Now I’m the proud owner of nearly 2,000 music files I’d previously forgotten were mine. Which brings me to another point. As I look back on my spending all day organizing this stuff, part of me thinks, Marcus, you’ve wasted your time. Three years ago you lost all your files in a hard drive crash and survived. Aren’t you just clinging now, holding on to what’s left? But another part thinks I’m not hurting anyone. And besides–I’m SIGNIFICANTLY less attached to the files than I was three years ago. I could lose them again tomorrow and be like, Whatever; eff it. Plus, today–if only for today–I’ve enjoyed listening to songs that used to make me smile and want to dance. That still do.

This afternoon while downloading music I simultaneously watched a documentary about Thich Nhat Hanh, the famous mindfulness teacher. (And yes, I know that my doing two things at once was anything but mindful. Life is ironic.) Anyway, in a particularly touching section of the documentary, a little girl asked Thich Nhat Hanh how she could stop being sad about her recently deceased dog. He said, “This is a tough question,” then explained that if you see a cloud that makes you happy and then it disappears, you’ll think, My cloud is dead. But with mindfulness you can realize that the cloud isn’t dead but rather transformed–into the water that you drink, even into a loved one. For me this means that everything changes–and nothing ever truly dies. Enjoy what you have while you have it. When it leaves you, try to let it go.

Try to move on with life.

Tonight I keep getting distracted by this music stuff. At eight I sat down to blog and thought I’d first “just look into” what it would take to switch streaming music services altogether. Well, the next thing I knew I got swept into converting all my playlists from one site to another, then I got wrapped up in the features of the new site. (So shiny!) When all was said and done, four hours had gone by, I’d cancelled my old subscription (that I’ve had for over five years ), and signed up for the new one (with the first three months free). And whereas some of my songs from the old service aren’t on the new one, it’s too late now. What’s done is done. There’s no looking back.

Goodbye old songs.

While going through this music-server changeover process, I started to drag it out–transfer a few playlists a day, think about my options, etc. But, again, I got carried away. Plus, I noticed my first service’s billing cycle renews in a few days, so I thought, It’s time to jump. Rip the bandaid off, Marcus. Let’s do this. Honestly, I think this is the best way to do things sometimes. Looking back, the most formative decisions I’ve made have been largely impulsive. Sure, I’ll take a dance class. I’ve GOT to see a therapist this week. I’m miserable–I’m closing my studio and selling all my stuff. I know, I’ll start a blog! I don’t regret any of it. This is my unsolicited advice: if your heart is calling you, don’t wait–dive in. See where life takes you. Clouds change LIKE THAT.

You can too.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Freedom lies on the other side of everything you're afraid of.

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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)

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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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Like It or Not (Blog #952)

This morning I finished listening to an audio series by Caroline Myss and Ron Roth called Spiritual Exploration: Navigating the Dark Night of the Soul. I first listened to this series years ago and recently felt compelled to go through it again.

Note: when you feel compelled to do something, do it.

It’s funny how sometimes a statement sticks and sometimes it doesn’t. For example, when I owned my dance studio, one night some of my most faithful clients were there, and I was talking about how in swing dancing rather than standing upright and shoving yourself in a particular direction, it’s important to lean into a movement, to let gravity PULL you where you want to go. Well, I’d said this no less than a dozen times previously, in the same way, in different ways, but that night, for whatever reason, it clicked for one of my students. They said, “OH, I GET IT!”

Who knows why they didn’t get it before.

It simply wasn’t time.

Anyway, today in the last audio file of the Dark Night of the Soul series, Ron Roth said something that I’d heard him say before but didn’t “get.” (It simply wasn’t time.) He was talking about loving other people, and whereas I can’t swear he meant other DIFFICULT people, people you might look down on, feel superior to, or be upset or pissed off with, those are the ones I thought of. Because, let’s be honest, those are the hard ones to love. Anyway, enough stalling. He said, “Like it or not, God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves you.”

Slow down. Go back and read that again.

Not that this is a new concept for me, the idea that God, life, or the universe loves everyone equally, but it struck me today in a new way. I guess because I have hopes and dreams for my life and would like to believe that whoever or whatever runs this planet, even if it doesn’t agree with everything I do, loves me unconditionally and is behind me, is rooting for me. And if I really believe that’s true for me, then I HAVE to believe that’s true for everyone. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this, that unlike most of us, the gods don’t play favorites. They love all of us. They want all of us to succeed.

This is a game changer if you truly get it.

This afternoon I spent time with my family, and I couldn’t help but see them differently. I like these people to begin with, of course, but I kept thinking, These are people God really cares about. This evening I ran some errands and found myself absolutely riveted by the store clerks who waited on me. I thought, This person’s gotta be pretty fabulous if God loves them as much as he loves me. And whereas that may sound like I think I’m a big deal, I do. I think we all do. This is my point. We are a big deal. At the same time, we’re no more of a big deal than anyone else is. When we imagine we are, that’s when we get into trouble. When we drive through traffic or scroll through Facebook thinking we know it all and that that other guy or gal is just an idiot driver, Republican, or Democrat rather than our equal, we inevitably separate from rather than connect with them.

This is our choice.

For me where the rubber of this idea of us all being equally loved by God really hits the road is in the area of my enemies, those people who have–from my perspective–harmed me in some way and that I’d really rather never see again. And whereas I’d like to say this is a short list of people, it’s quite long and includes exes who have cheated on me, friends who have lied to me, and former clients and employers who haven’t paid me. Like, good riddance. That being said, I’m SURE I’m on a number of other peoples’ shit lists. Because I’m not perfect. (There, I said it.) Anyway, I’ve been thinking about those folks on my shit list, the ones for whom I’d have a difficult time praying, “God, please bless them the way I want you to bless me” and really meaning it. And then I’ve been praying that prayer for them. Because God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves me.

Like it or not.

And I need to be reminded of that.

You know that saying that hurting people hurt people? Well, it occurs to me that when we’re unwilling to see those who have hurt us as just as special as we see ourselves and unwilling to desire the very best for them, we are, in effect if not in conscious practice, desiring that they continue to hurt (as punishment) and–consequently–continue to hurt others. This is bad logic. Think about your most miserable relative, the one who makes holidays oh-so-much fun. Don’t you suffer when they suffer? Wouldn’t you prefer for them to be happy, and wouldn’t you be happier if they were? This is how life works. We either suffer with one another or we celebrate with one another, but we’re all in this together.

Like it or not.

My suggestion: like it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s never too late to be your own friend.

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On Arguing with Ghosts (Blog #905)

This morning I met some friends to watch their four year old son play soccer. Talk about the cutest thing ever, a bunch of toddlers doing their best to kick a ball down a field (in the correct direction) and into a goal. Bless their hearts. The second cutest thing? Nobody keeps score. The kids dress up, kick the ball around, make goals, and whatever, but it’s all just for fun. No winners, no losers.

After the game my friends and I went to lunch then went back to their house and crashed on their couches. That’s right–we all took naps. This was seriously the best thing for me. So often I fill up every minute of every day. I go, go, go. But taking a nap forced me to slow down, to stop, stop, stop.

I should do this more often.

This evening I stayed home, did laundry, and spent a few hours doing myofascial release. This amounted to lying on lacrosse balls and poking myself with a Theracane, which is basically a plastic cane with knobs in various locations you use to put pressure on trigger points (fascial knots) until they release. I did this one night earlier this week on my lower body, so tonight I worked on my upper body. And whereas I had mild success with some knots, others melted away like butter. I could feel an immediate letting go in my body, a chain reaction of relaxation. Do I feel perfect? No. But I feel good enough to know that I’m headed in the right direction.

The lesson: any letting go is good letting go.

Earlier this week I saw several funny drawings online about “titles of honest books.” One was called Hypothetical Arguments I’ve Won in the Shower: Volume 1 of 16. Is that funny or what? And, as one of my friends commented, “So true.” Anyway, tonight I went for a walk and thought a lot about just how much time I spend mentally arguing with people I no longer talk to in reality. My personal answer is “too much time,” but the truth is that any time mentally arguing about something that’s already over is too much time. Why?

Because it’s over.

My therapist says sometimes we get into these cerebral debates because we so often bite our tongues in real life. Like, if we authentically expressed ourselves more, we wouldn’t have a need to go round and round in our heads. Screw you and the horse you rode in on, and all that. (As if people ride in on horses anymore.) In my experience, this is true. The more I speak up, the more I’m able to feel good about whatever has happened. I guess that’s part of the deal with those situations we can’t let go of–we don’t like the way they turned out, so we keep them alive between our ears, or between someone else’s ears if we’re wont to bitch and moan about them.

There are, of course, other theories as to why we do this, why–let’s just call a spade a spade–we can’t forgive a person or situation. We want to be right. We want to humiliate them. We don’t want to be humiliated (again). We want revenge. We want control. Because we don’t trust God or life to take care of things. Because we think we know better.

At lunch today my four year old friend dropped his chocolate chip cookie on the floor. (Shit happens.) And whereas I personally would have eaten it, his mom said, “Don’t put that in your mouth. Here’s a snickerdoodle.” Alas, our little buddy still cried. This is what’s great about children–if they feel something, they express it.

Thankfully, he was over it in no time.

Now, I realize that if someone’s really done you wrong, you might not be able to get over it so quickly as our pal got over his chocolate chip cookie. If someone’s betrayed you, I doubt a snickerdoodle will make it better. But my point is that it is possible to move on. So many of us get stuck in thought loops of revenge and bitterness that go on for decades. I recently heard a story about someone who said, “I’ll never forgive you.” Now, I obviously don’t know what’s happened for this person since, but that’s a lot for anyone to carry around for any amount of time. Because in order to not forgive, you have to stay angry and you have to be mean. Simply put, you have to disconnect from your own good heart. This comes with a price.

A price that hurts you more than anyone else.

My prayer tonight as I was walking and thinking about the things I can’t get over–and to be clear, I don’t seethe about them day in and day out, but I do spend time thinking about them that could better be spent otherwise–was, Lord, give me the strength to drop it. Just that simple. Give me the strength to drop it.

One of the things that occurred to me tonight was just how exhausting it is to keep score with everyone in my life. They broke my heart. They were an asshole. I’m a winner, they’re a loser. Whatever. It’s so tiring to play judge and jury with everything that happens in one’s life. This was wrong, and now I’m going to be mad about it the rest of my life. Please. Those soccer-playing toddlers have it figured out. We don’t have to keep score. There are no winners, there are no losers. Other people hurt us. We hurt other people. Shit happens. If you’re doing the best you can (damn it), everyone else is too. It’s not your job or responsibility to make yourself miserable, to rob yourself of the joy of this present moment, by arguing with ghosts. It’s not my job either.

It’s my job to let it go (even a little), to drop it (like it’s hot), to set it free, Nancy.

It’s my job to forgive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

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