On Ways to Change Old Patterns (Blog #877)

This morning I went to bed at three and woke back up at six in order to help my dad celebrate his birthday (it’s today). One of his favorite things in the world is chocolate-filled donuts from Irish Maid Donuts in Fort Smith, and the last time we went–on Father’s Day at ten o’clock–they were nearly out. So this time we decided to go earlier. Not only that, Dad called them this morning to make sure they were still open (because several streets in Fort Smith flooded during the night), and when we arrived, they not only had our donuts ready, but they’d also written “Happy Birthday” on top of our box.

Talk about service.

Dad and I ate at the store, and the lady working the counter said they’ve been using the same donut/chocolate filling recipe since the 1950s. Y’all, it’s delicious. Totally worth getting up for. That being said, I went straight back to bed when Dad and I were finished and slept til almost twelve.

This afternoon I watched several videos online, mostly “smartypants” stuff, as my therapist calls it. You know, self-help, personal growth material. And whereas I enjoyed most of it, there was one video by one lady that absolutely got on my nerves. I kept thinking, This is dumb. I’ve got better things to do. Still, my inner completionist kept thinking I should stick with it. My inner good student thought, What if there’s important information that we NEED? Finally I thought of something my therapist says occasionally–follow the energy. That is, if something doesn’t excite you, it’s probably not for you. So I switched off the video while the lady was mid-sentence and moved on with my life.

It felt great.

Lately I’ve been talking a lot about changing patterns, and one of the videos I did completely watch today said that you can engage new patterns in a couple of ways. First, and I know this seems obvious, but you can “just do it.” What I mean is that I have an old pattern of completing things I start even if I don’t enjoy them, but a desire for a new pattern of being willing to walk away from that which doesn’t serve me (don’t throw good money after bad). So the simplest way for me to get comfortable walking away is to actually practice walking away–from a book, from a video, from a person. People always tell me they have two left feet. Duh. Of course they do–and they always will unless they’re willing to at least TRY to dance.

Which brings me to the second way you can change patterns. Get a role model, a teacher, or a therapist. The donut shop has been using the same recipes for over fifty years not because one baker has come in and done their own thing, but rather because one baker has learned from another who has already done it. This is why you take dance lessons from someone who already knows how to dance. This is why I see a therapist–because she already knows how to have boundaries, how to advocate for herself, how to speak her truth, and so on, and these are things I’ve wanted to learn. In order to do so, I’ve needed–and I think we all need–an example, a guide, someone who says, “Look here. See what’s possible. See how you can grow. See what you can become.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No good story ever ends.

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On Transformation and the Dark Night (Blog #870)

This afternoon I continued painting the bathroom I started painting yesterday. It’s coming along. Today I rolled on a second coat, and the walls went from being one-coat-blah to there-we-go-that’s-nice. The more I paint, the more I’m reminded of the lessons it teaches. For one thing, nothing happens all at once. There’s always a process. One coat, two coats, sometimes three (all these coats get paint on me). For another, every process involves waiting. I always want to get projects done in one day, but painting goes better when you don’t–because the paint needs time to dry. Plus, whenever you walk away from something, you can come back to it later with a new perspective.

For as many rooms as I’ve painted over the years, I’m continually amazed by The Process. Both before the first brushstroke and after the last one, I stare at a room in amazement. Before I think, This is such a mess. How am I going to do this? After I think, Wow! I did it. This is SO MUCH better. Suddenly all the hard work and long hours become worth it.

Hard work and long hours are the only way I’ve found to turn a room around, by the way. You’ve simply got to put in the time and you’ve got to break a sweat (or pay someone else to) if you want solid results. Knowing this, I still get overwhelmed. Just today I thought, I’m never going to get this bathroom done. But then I reminded myself that in that moment it wasn’t my job to paint the entire bathroom. Rather, in that moment it was my job to paint the square foot of wall in front of me. Just that one square foot. So that’s what I did. Over and over again, I concentrated on the section of wall in front of me, and–eventually–I covered the whole room. This is how I’ve written 870 consecutive blogs (including tonight’s)–one blog at a time.

As I was painting today I thought a lot about change (for obvious reasons). Stephan Hoeller points out that there are three types of change–cyclical change (as in the seasons), linear change (as in growing older or trading in one vehicle or outfit for another), and transformational change (as in a caterpillar becoming a butterfly). Transformational change involves the death of an old life (the caterpillar) and the birth of a new one (the butterfly). Sticking with the house metaphor, transformational change would involve knocking down old walls and putting up new ones. (At the very least painting a wall and rearranging, or better yet, buying all new furniture–preferably nothing cheap from IKEA unless, of course, you’re in college). Hoeller says this is really why we’re down here on planet earth–not to learn something, but to transform–though few of us are willing to put in the hard work and time required to do so.

Jesus said, “Behold, all things are become new,” and I would say this is the test as to whether the process of transformation (not just linear change) has begun in your life. Is EVERYTHING at least starting to look different than it used to? Robert Ohotto explains it this way. When you have a pattern of behavior (let’s say you’re a perfectionist or a people pleaser), that pattern touches every relationship in your life. Because that pattern CREATED every relationship in your life. Well, let’s say you wake up one day and have the little thought, I’d like to stop being such a hard ass about everything, or I’d like to stop giving a shit what everyone else thinks of me. If you’re serious–whoops! This means that everything your perfectionist or people pleaser created–every relationship–now has to shift, perhaps crumble, in order to make room for more productive patterns and their subsequent creations to step in.

So look out.

This shift in relationships (to other people, to money, to yourself) is what has traditionally been referred to as The Dark Night of the Soul and what Ohotto calls The Dark Night of the Ego (because what’s dark for your soul?). Quite frankly, it’s the process I’ve been going through these last five plus years, and, although it’s a necessary part of transformation, it’s not fun. It’s why I say the truth will set you free (sort of) and why I say I don’t recommend this path. In truth, I do recommend it, but transformation is an ugly and uncomfortable business, and I’d like to be ever clear about that. In the Bible, Jonah was three days in the belly of the whale, and Christ was three days in the grave. Before the Phoenix rose anew from the ashes, it dis-integrated into ashes. Hoeller says before a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, it becomes “a black goo.” Ohotto says before you can become SOMEBODY, you must first become NOBODY. So the point has been made time and time again–death precedes life.

I don’t like this any more than you do.

[One last thing. In terms of tonight’s photo, which features me holding a sign that says, “Be awesome today,” I feel like I need to add–like, no pressure.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our shoulders weren’t meant to carry the weight of the world.

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Your Best Is Good Enough (Blog #852)

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, the one who works with the mental/emotional/energetic causes of physical problems. This continues to be a trip. Today was my third appointment, and the man’s gotten more done with me than a handful of other chiropractors have in six times the visits. For the longest time I’ve been constantly aware of tension in my neck. And whereas it’s still there, now there are days I don’t even think about it. This is progress. This is good progress. That being said, the guy’s methods are weird.

I say weird but I only mean they’re weird compared to most medical people’s methods. I’ve spent a lot of time in the alternative healing community, and I’ve seen some really strange shit. Compared to that stuff, my chiropractor’s methods are really quite benign. Today he used muscle testing to get at the underlying emotions behind my long-time struggle with sinus infections. The positive word that came up (the emotion I feel before a sinus infection) was RELIABLE. The negative emotion (during and after a sinus infection) was INADEQUATE. Phew. There’s a can of worms. The last two years, which have been full of medical tests (that have basically said I’m healthy as a horse), have been filled with my trying to decide whether or not me and my body are reliable or inadequate.

The jury’s still out.

In truth, inadequacy is a pervasive emotion for me. Recently I blogged about my feeling like not enough, and I suppose this is the same thing. There’s a scene in Mr. Holland’s Opus when a former student of Mr. Holland’s, now a grownup, is shutting down Mr. Holland’s music program due to budget cuts. He says, “We’re doing the best we can, Mr. Holland,” and Mr. Holland yells, “Your best is not good enough!” Both of these characters are firmly entrenched in my psyche, the part of me that says, “Dammit, I’m doing everything I know to do,” and the part that is always demanding more. You know, The Perfectionist. The Hard Ass.

The one who’s real fun at parties.

This afternoon I read Transforming Fate into Destiny: A New Dialogue with Your Soul by Robert Ohotto. It’s glorious. Read it and give it to all your friends for Christmas. But really. In a New Age/Self-Help culture that claims you can manifest or have whatever you want, this book is a breath of fresh air. Robert explains that, yes, we can create magnificent things in our lives. Each of us is more powerful than we give ourselves credit for. However, each of us also came into this life understanding that there would be certain limitations (or boundaries, I love a good boundary), so we have to work within those fated guidelines.

For example, no matter what I put on my vision board, I’m never going to be the first female President of the United States. (Crap.) Because I’m a man. Likewise, I’ll never be straight (sorry, ladies), be six-foot-two (dang), look or sing like Zac Efron (dang again), or have different parents. Because my sexuality, height, looks, and parents have already been decided. And so have yours.

So get over it.

Now, what I do with what’s already been decided, that’s a different story. As I understand it, if I do nothing but sit on the couch every day and eat bonbons, that’s my choice. However, in choosing to not be an active, conscious participant in my life, not only will I not mature, but I’ll also feel as if my life is out of my control. Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will run you life and you will call it fate.” Robert says, “If you don’t access direction from within, your life will be directed from without.” (Oh snap.) However, if I choose or anyone chooses to do The Hard Work and grow the eff up, well, now we’re cooking with gas. My therapist says her job is to support me in reaching my highest potential, and your highest potential is another way of talking about your destiny. What’s actually possible for YOU? Not that guy over there, but you. What, exactly, is inside you that’s eager, waiting, and willing to be born?

This, of course, is the million dollar question, and only the gods and your soul have the answer.

Also–fair warning–because all things worth having require sacrifice (of your time, talents, and ego), should you choose to pursue your highest potential, some days are really gonna suck.

I still recommend it.

Getting back to my chiropractor’s weird ways, I repeat, they’re only weird because they’re not conventional. It’s becoming more in vogue to discuss the mind-body-soul connection, but in my experience, it’s mostly lip service. I mean, when I get a headache, give me a Tylenol. And yet I know there’s more to it. This is what I’ve run into hundreds of times along The Path. This is what you’ll run into when reaching for your highest potential or working to transform your fate into destiny. You’ll know there’s more inside you that’s wanting to come out. But because your path is different from everyone else’s, it will feel weird, you’ll question it, and you’ll feel inadequate.

Keep going. You are not alone. Your best is good enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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What are you really running away from?

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On the Right Tools and Being Lined Up (Blog #849)

What can I say? Today has been great. I’ve been house sitting, and this morning I slept in, made breakfast, then set out to do the one and only thing I had on my to-do list–repair a broken (rotten) door at my friend’s house. If I can get this done, I told myself, I won’t tackle any other projects. Instead I’ll do something “fun,” like read a book. Hell, I might even take a shower.

This is a good plan, I thought. So off I went to make it happen.

First off, I took the door off its hinges and surveyed the damage. The problem was that the door had a doggie door, and one day when the doggie door was locked, the dog ripped another hole beside the doggie door, through the rotten wood. It was a mess. Anyway, I covered the doorframe with a blanket, loaded up the door and my tools, and went to Lowe’s. And whereas I’d intended to buy the wood needed to patch the door then cut it myself, I thought, Hell, they can cut it easier, faster, and better than I can, so I had the nice guy in the lumber section do it. This in itself was a small victory. Years ago I would have been too embarrassed to ask for help, too shy to approach “a dude.”

After Lowe’s I stopped at my parents’ house to pick up some paint/stain for the patch, as well as some probiotics for my sinuses, since I woke up feeling slightly junky this morning. One of the things I experiment with is breaking open a multi-strain probiotic pill and swishing the powder around in my mouth. The idea is that whenever you have an excess amount of mucus or–god forbid–a sinus infection, your microbiome “up there” is off, so inserting new critters in your mouth can help (because they crawl up into your nose and sinuses and go to work balancing things out). All this to say that I was chatting with my dad in our kitchen as I broke open the probiotic pill into my mouth and then–sort of like how you try to chat with the dentist when he has his hands in your mouth–I continued talking.

Well, white powder everywhere.

You should have heard my dad laughing.

“I really needed that,” he said. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

Wiping powder off my face, I said, “I’m glad I could help.”

Fortunately, the door repair went better than the probiotic situation did. Granted, it took a while, but there were no major hangups. A friend let me borrow their garage and their power tools to do the work, and y’all, the right tools make all the difference. At one point I needed to cut through the plywood so I’d have enough space to fit my saw into the wood and then cut farther, so I used a small rotary saw to get the job done. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without it. Back at my friend’s house, I hung the door easily enough, but had to make adjustments where the bolt slides into the frame. I think this part was off previously. Regardless, this happens a lot in old houses. Something settles, then things don’t line up like they did before.

And then I took that shower.

Intent of spending the rest of the evening relaxing, I went to a late-late lunch and finished a book I started yesterday. Then I bent my own no-more-work rules and returned some not-needed screws (never thought I’d say that) to Lowe’s and also bought a new hammer because my old one went kaput recently and I’m tired of nailing things in with my flashlight or crowbar. (Anything in a pinch.) Then I helped my aunt with a small project, AND THEN I came back to the house to relax (listen to an online lecture) and, later, eat dinner.

Here’s a secret (that’s not really a secret). A lot of times when I sit down to write, I don’t know what I’m going to say. More specifically, I don’t know what my theme is going to be, what important nugget I’m going to discuss. I’m saying this now because this was the case when I sat down tonight. However, reading what I’ve written, a couple things stand out, which I’ll get to in a moment. But before I do I think it’s important to recognize that this is how creativity works–it doesn’t reveal itself in advance. You have to actually do the thing before you know what’s there. This was one of the points in the lecture I listened to–that in terms of personal growth and transformation, you’ll only discover your latent talents, abilities, and powers when you’re willing to set your old self aside and let your new self come forth.

Now.

The first thing that popped out to me earlier was “the right tools make all the difference.” This is true in handyman work, personal growth and transformation, and healing. For example, my therapist has been an invaluable resource to me and has offered me countless tools for accepting and honoring myself. Lesson One in A Course in Miracles says, “This (fill in the blank) does not mean anything.” This chair does not mean anything. This car does not mean anything. This hot guy across the room does not mean anything. The point of the exercise is to realize that if something means something to you, it’s only because YOU’VE decided that it should, and this means you have a lot of control over the things in your life and whether or not they have control over you. My point is–this exercise is another tool for peace of mind.

If one tool doesn’t get you want you want? Try another.

The other statement I noticed while reading tonight’s post was “something settles, then things don’t line up like they did before.” In my experience, I know when I settle in relationships, what ends up not lining up is me with me. That is, we all have an inner voice that lets us know when people cross the line or when a situation simply isn’t right for us. This is an invitation to self-advocate or simply be honest (this isn’t working for me). Perhaps this means you have to allow a latent power within you (like your voice) to express itself. So what? You try a new tool. A few years ago I would have been intimated to repair a rotten door. I would have thought, I’ve never done that before. Even now I’m almost always intimidated when I have to get real or have a come-to-Jesus meeting with someone. But I’ve done it before, so I can’t say I don’t know how or that I can’t. Plus, more and more I’m not willing to settle. It’s more important for me to be lined up with me.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

On Changing Your Patterns (Blog #848)

This morning, before I’d even gone to the restroom, I returned a missed call from the garage where I get my oil changed. Yesterday I dropped off my car, Tom Collins, at the garage and found out I needed a new set of tires. That’s always fun. But my tires weren’t the reason they called today. Instead I was told that dear Tom ALSO needs new struts. Fortunately, I already knew this. Well, sort of. My regular mechanic told me a few weeks ago that one of my struts was leaking and that he could fix it for x amount of dollars. But since I didn’t have x amount of dollars (that I wanted to spend) on car repairs at that red hot moment, I told him to wait.

But back to the phone call this morning. THAT mechanic told me that one of my struts was leaking and that–really–I should just replace the whole front suspension. “I can do that for you,” he said, “for x amount plus 200 dollars. And don’t worry, I’ve replaced 50 of those things before and have never had one come back on me.”

“Well, the truth is that I’ve already gotten a quote for that,” I said, “and they were 200 dollars cheaper.”

“Was that quote for one strut or for both?”

Hum.

“You know, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

Now, in my mind, there wasn’t anything else to say. HOWEVER, the guy on the other end of the phone kept talking, pushing. “Is your guy going to replace just the hydraulic shaft or also the spring? Because I’ll replace everything–on both sides,” he said.

“As I just said, I don’t know.”

“Well, you should ask your mechanic,” he said, then started talking about labor. “And I know we’re more expensive on hourly, but I can get this done in two hours, and that’s not much.”

At this point I’d had enough. I hate being told what to do. I hate pushy, needy, I’m-great-just-ask-me kind of people. I still had to pee. So I did something I rarely do–I interrupted the asshole.

“I appreciate the information,” I said, “but I’m done with this conversation.”

“Okay,” he said, then hung up.

Then I hung up.

Fifteen minutes later the secretary at the garage called.

“Your car is ready.”

A word that’s been coming up for me lately is PATTERNS. No kidding, it’s shown up in multiple books I’ve been reading, on podcasts I’ve listened to, and has even been mentioned by friends. Usually this in-my-face approach is a sign the universe wants me to learn something. At least that’s how I take it. Anyway, the idea is that if you want something to change in your life, it’s not just a matter of changing that one thing. Rather, it’s about changing, or at least being willing to change, a whole host of things. Because everything in life is connected. Said another way, if you want different results, you have to be willing to alter (read: sacrifice) your current patterns and allow new ones to take their place.

How do I explain this? If you brush your teeth every day, that’s a habit. If you always use the same type of toothbrush, that you buy at the same store and keep in the same place on your counter, and you always floss before and rinse and spit afterwards, that’s a pattern. If you brush, then wash your face, then take your nighttime meds, then put on your pajamas, that’s a pattern. Also, it’s a ritual. And if you don’t think even a “little” ritual like this is a big deal, try changing yours by doing everything you normally do in reverse. Or let your friend or lover teach you a new way of brushing your teeth, folding your clothes, or loading the dishwasher, then never go back to your way again. See if you don’t put up a fuss.

Maybe a big one.

The idea here is that we create rituals in order to manage some part of our psyche (and this is why we don’t easily change them). Caroline Myss says you could go through daily rituals and directly correlate each one to one of your seven chakras. You lock your doors for your survival (chakra one), you wear cute underwear for your sexuality (chakra two), you check the mirror for broccoli in your teeth for your self-esteem (chakra three) and so.

Many rituals, of course, involve other people. Our patterns definitely do. For example, recently I was in a pattern of going to see my chiropractor every two weeks. However, when my insurance benefits (for chiropractic and physical therapy) ran out because I’d use so many visits for physical therapy after my knee surgery, I went to a different (more affordable) chiropractor. On the surface this seems like a small choice, but there’s no such thing. That is, my decision to change chiropractors not only affects where I drive every week or two, but also affects the amount of money each chiropractor (and even their staff) makes. It affects the quality of care I get (because each chiropractor approaches the body differently). Because my second chiropractor wants to take dance lessons, my small decision ultimately influences how he and his wife will spend time together, where they may go out on Friday nights, whom they may meet there.

I’m going on about all this to drive home a couple points. First, little things can be big things. If you grabbed a corner of your shirt and twisted it, then kept twisting, eventually you’d see an effect up to your shoulder. This is because your shirt itself is a pattern, a woven tapestry, and you can’t change one part without changing the rest. This is how your life and relationships work. In terms of my interaction with the garage mechanic this morning, it may seem like a little thing for me to have interrupted him and voiced my frustration, but for me it was big huge because I’ve never done anything quite like that before. My pattern historically has been to not interrupt, to be nice, to go along to get along, to let it go. But by changing my reaction in one interaction, that means it will be easier to change it in others. Plus, I’ll carry around less internal frustration–because when you’re honest and direct rather than insincerely polite, you undo emotional knots rather than create them.

In other words, I laid the groundwork for a new pattern today.

Tonight I heard Robert Moss, who’s an expert on dreams and dreaming, say that sometimes our dreams alert us to new ways of being, new possibilities. Like, the last few years I’ve had a bunch of dreams about being aggressive, even yelling. So, according to Moss, that’s a part of my psyche that wants to emerge–a more forceful Marcus. Recently I blogged about the benefit of doing things symbolically. An example is that this afternoon I mowed my parents lawn and instead of doing it the way I always do, I mixed it up. Instead of mowing this section then that section, I did that section then this section. Instead of using diagonals lines, I used horizontal and vertical lines. Nothing “huge,” but it served the same purpose as my cutting off the pushy mechanic did. Both were my way of communicating to my unconscious–I am willing to change my patterns. I am willing to do things differently. I am willing to get different results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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On Breaking Through (Blog #831)

Today has worn me out. This morning I woke up with (more) sinus junk. Then, after getting a good report from my knee surgeon (keep doing what I’m doing, things will continue to heal), I found out my insurance didn’t cover one of my physical therapy appointments (it’s a long story), so–no big deal–I owe about three hundred dollars. Ugh. I hate unexpected expenses, especially on a week like this one when I’m having my car’s brake pads replaced and windshield repaired.

When it rains, it pours.

This money thing really has distressed me today. This evening my aunt told me that she recently had to have both her freezers and her air conditioner repaired (and none of it was cheap), so I get that shit happens to all of us. I get that the thing with my insurance wasn’t personal and–quite frankly–probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d been more on top of things in terms of understanding the limitations of my policy. That being said, it did happen, and I refuse to beat myself up about not knowing because this is the first time in my life that I’ve HAD insurance and am still learning the ropes. Still, the last few years have been rough physically and financially, so anytime there’s an unanticipated blow in terms of illness or money, it just feels like getting knocked down all over again.

Like, maybe I should just stay down here.

I don’t mean to sound all woe-is-me. Rather, I intend to sound honest. This afternoon and evening I read a book, mowed my parents’ lawn, and went to the library. Today hasn’t been all bad. But I’ve nonetheless felt discouraged. I wish this were different. I wish I could chalk today’s financial setback–any financial setback–up to “shit happens” and “don’t worry–there’s more where that came from.” And yet I haven’t been able to do this. Granted, I’ve felt more at peace about the matter this evening. Tonight I went for a walk, and my ankles got absolutely eaten up by mosquitoes. For thirty solid minutes they itched, itched, itched, but now I can barely feel any irritation. Maybe our fears and emotions are like this. They just need time to calm down.

My therapist says to be patient with myself, that I was “poisoned” with the idea of scarcity and that it will take time to get it out of my system. Deep-seeded beliefs don’t change overnight. The book I read this afternoon, The Laws of Manifestation by David Spangler, says it’s not embarrassing to have a need (a bill to pay or illness to heal, for example) and that, in fact, our needs exist because something within us wants come out. That is, some people believe that manifestation is about getting more stuff, more money, that it’s about ATTRACTING something external TO you. But the book says true manifestation is about evoking something FROM you and that, in order to do this, you yourself (as your consciousness) must BECOME that which you believe is missing from your life–vibrant health, abundance, whatever.

Said succinctly, if you want something to change in your external world, the best way to go about it to change you internal one.

This includes changing your beliefs.

To me this means that I could win the lottery tomorrow but unless I change who I am and what I believe, I’m still going to feel there’s not enough. (What, ONLY thirty million?) Again, the book says needs arise because something within wants to come out–because something inside us wants us TO CHANGE. According to this theory, this means that the reason I’m currently experiencing scarcity is because abundance exists within me as a potential and wants to emerge. Think of the seed of a tree that wants so badly to grow that it’s willing to bust through concrete. This is how our subconscious works–it’s willing to destroy everything you’ve ever worked for–take every dollar you have–if everything you’ve ever worked for is no longer serving you. It’s willing to–again and again–bring up every fear you have so that you can finally face them, finally face yourself. So that you can break through that which has held you back, and grow.

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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On Getting the Lead Out (Blog #805)

This week in my friend Marla’s writing class, one of my classmates, Bill, read a glorious story about an experience he had with his father. As a child, Bill played baseball with a group of local boys. Nothing fancy or too organized, but rather like The Sandlot. And whereas Bill enjoyed baseball, he said, he wasn’t very good at it. Still, when his team played against another neighborhood group, Bill got a hit. But then as he began to round the bases, he spotted his dad outside the fence. Bill didn’t know he was going to be there. “Get the lead out!” Bill’s dad cried. Next thing he knew, Bill got tagged out. At this point in his story, Bill started crying and so did I. What person doesn’t connect with the idea of wanting a parent’s approval?

In concluding his tale, Bill said that when he had sons of his own, he’d attend their ballgames and proudly stand and pump his fist in the air to cheer them on. But he never said a word. I’m adding to Bill’s story here, but knowing what effect his dad’s words had on him, Bill never said to his boys, “Get the lead out!”

This afternoon and evening I read a book called Spiritual Alchemy by C.C. Zain. For those interested in the topic, it’s one of the best I’ve come across. The idea behind the book is that just as a material alchemist would endeavor to transmute lead (or any of the seven base metals associated with alchemy) into gold, a spiritual alchemist would and should endeavor to take the lead in their life and turn it into gold. In other words, their task is to take a circumstance, situation, trauma, relationship, or day at the office that would normally weigh them down and–somehow–change it from a liability to an asset.

My writing class’s assignment for next week is along these lines of transmutation. What’s something that you previously thought was terrible that turned out to be something wonderful? For example, recently I ran into someone I used to have the biggest crush on. I remember being distinctly upset for weeks that they didn’t return my affection. Now, years later, I can see I dodged a bullet. (God, I should be a professional bullet dodger.) The difference between this change in viewpoint and the change in viewpoint that spiritual alchemy asks of someone is not a matter of content, nor is it a matter of outcome. That is, in either case the base facts (base metal) are the same. I got ignored. Likewise, the end viewpoints (gold) are the same. This is a good thing, I’m glad this happened the way it did. The difference, rather, is that in the first case life and time taught me that my unrequited love wasn’t “bad” but “good,” but in the second, hypothetical case–the case of the spiritual alchemist–the shift in viewpoint from bad to good would happen faster and intentionally.

I’ve said before that when I was a child, our house burned down and my mother was clinically depressed. When I was a teenager, I was in a terrible car accident and my father went to prison. From an alchemist’s standpoint, all of these events are lead, heavy things. In truth, any event can be heavy. A death, a breakup, a job loss, an abusive relationship. Shit happens on planet earth. This being said, my job, and your job if you choose to accept it, is to take heavy events, forage the very best we can from them, and toss away the rest into what Caroline Myss calls the oh-well pile. (I got dumped. OH WELL.) In alchemical terms, this is called separating the metal from the dross. In Biblical terms, separating the wheat from the chaff.

When said like this, obviously anyone would be a fool to mistake the dross for the metal or the chaff for the wheat–to hold on to the worst parts of an experience rather than the best parts. And yet we all do this. Something terrible happens, and we whine and bitch and moan and cry. We form resentments and hold grudges for decades. Decades! We think, Why did this happen to me? (Want the answer? Because it did. Don’t like that answer? Tough. You’ll never get a better one. I hate this as much as you do.) And yet we could, with just as much mental effort, focus on the gifts our challenges give us. For example, for as awful as one of my exes was, he encouraged me to go to therapy (by his bad behavior, not his good words), and going to therapy has been the single most transformative experience of my entire life. Does this mean he wasn’t an absolute turd? No. But does it mean that on some level I’m grateful he was? Yes, yes it does.

Zain says that “whether an experience becomes a constructive factor in the mentality, or a destructive factor, depends entirely upon the mental attitude toward it.” This means that although you don’t get to pick the experiences of your life (sorry), you do get to decide how you frame them. You get to decide what story you tell about them, both to yourself and to others. Said tritely, you get to decide whether the very worst things that happen to you (or even whether someone cutting you off in traffic) will make you better or bitter.

No one else can do this for you.

Obviously I don’t know what goes on in anyone else’s head, but from my perspective and at least with regard to the story he shared, Bill is an alchemist. That is, he took a circumstance that could have weighed him down for the rest of his life–his father’s frustration, disapproval, and embarrassment–and transformed or transmuted it into something lighter. By his refusing to feel or, at the very least, communicate those emotions to his sons when they played ball, he not only affected his experience, but also the experience of his children and, I’m assuming, those around him. (We all know how one person can make or break a party.)

Said another way, he didn’t pass on his pain.

This afternoon I mowed my parents’ lawn. There’s a tree in the backyard whose branches I always have to duck under to avoid being swiped in the face, and I usually just hunch over. But today I grabbed the snippers out of the garage and went to work on the low-hanging branches. One by one I cut them off. Relieved of their previously attached weight, the remaining branches shot up. In fact, they soared. This is what it’s like when you snip the resentments out of your life, when you cut out focusing on the terrible things that happened to you and instead focus on how they turned you into a strong, loving person. There’s this sense of release, of buoyancy, of freedom. Everything feels lighter. You stand taller. You soar. This is what it feels like to get the lead out. As Marla said when she heard Bill’s story, “This is gold.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

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Outside Your Comfort Zone (Blog #800)

A few weeks ago my friend Shelli asked me if I wanted to play a character in a western-themed murder mystery for a local fundraiser. And whereas I’ve been telling people that she roped me into doing it (get it, western, roped?), the fact is I simply agreed. Still, I hesitated at first because staying at home sounded better and dressing up and acting aren’t always within my comfort zone. But then I thought, Come on, Marcus, live a little, and said yes. As the grandma in the movie Arthur says, “What the hell? We live once.”

The murder mystery was tonight, and my friend Kim let me borrow some of her husband’s cowboy clothes for my costume–boots, jeans, and a fancy shirt with roses on it. She even loaned me a pair of genuine chaps. And yes, they were ass-less. (All chaps are, I think.) Literally topping things off with my own cowboy hat, I headed to the party, which was held at a fancy private residence and included dinner, drinks, and desserts.

And to think I considered staying at home on the couch.

The setup was that I was the bad guy, Wavy Will, the outlaw in the town of Gravestone. (The whole thing was a spoof on the movie Tombstone, in which “my” character was Curly Bill. Get it, Curly Bill, Wavy Will? ) They had wanted posters with my mug on them plastered all over the place. Wanted Alive–Wavy Will Bronchus–$1,000.

Now come on, I think I’m worth more than that.

As guests arrived at the affair (supposedly held in a saloon), the other characters and I interacted and dropped clues about our relationships. For example, Wylie Arp (Wyatt Earp) had just moved to Gravestone, and several of the other characters wanted him to run for sheriff so he could arrest me and my band of outlaws, The Ranchers (The Cowboys). After two rounds of interaction, I turned up dead. This was a surprise to me and everybody else, although the whole point was that SOMEBODY was going to die. From this point on, I had a halo on and could walk around and make (ghostly) faces but couldn’t talk.

Dead men tell no tales.

Here’s a picture from the end of the game when each character got their final say. The girl beside me was the only guest to figure out who shot me three times in the chest. It was Abby Oakley (Annie Oakley), pictured above and below in red, whom I’d insulted earlier in the evening. “You couldn’t hit the backside of a barn,” I yelled. “Girls can’t shoot guns.”

Obviously, I was wrong.

Y’all, I’m thrilled I agreed to do this thing. I had so much fun getting into character and playing and visiting with my friends. (I ended up knowing several cast members in addition to Shelli.) Some of them had done a murder mystery before and/or acted in the theater and were absolutely inspiring to watch and work with. Since leaving the party, I’ve been thinking about how I could improve my character if ever given the chance to do it again.

One of the things I thought about tonight was how it can often feel strange to “try on” a new personality trait–assertiveness, for example–but how it can actually be fun. This has been my experience since starting therapy. I used to think of myself as shy and timid–a people pleaser. But that was just a character I was playing, and I’ve since learned to play a different one, one I like better. Dustin Hoffman says that this is what acting is, tweaking your personality the way you tweak your wardrobe when you’re trying to pick something out to wear for dinner. You grab a shirt and think, No, that’s not right, so you grab another.

Likewise, you can do this with you personality in your day-to-day life. If you have a discussion with your boss or friend and it doesn’t go well, you can try again. You can adjust your tone, be more assertive, be more receiving, whatever it takes. You can keep trying until it feels right, until you think, Yeah, that’s it. That feels more honest. That feels more like me.

Tonight’s blog is number 800 (in a row). And whereas I wish I had something profound to say to commemorate this fact, I don’t. Instead, I’m ready to call it a night. Still, it occurs to me that most of us don’t know ourselves. We grow up thinking that we’re shy or timid or not one to speak up, talk about ourselves, or share personal details. I used to think these things. But from day one of the blog I’ve purposed to be honest, to not play a character but–as much as is possible–play myself. Tonight my friend Shelli said, “There were women at the party who thought you were so cute.” I said, “Do they have brothers?!” Oh my gosh, y’all, I never would have said this five years ago. I was too worried about what other people thought. But tonight it just came flying out–because I’m in the habit of being honest, of being myself. Lately I’ve been cursing more in dance lessons. I don’t apologize. This is who I am.

Sometimes I say four-letter words.

Everything worth having is outside your comfort zone.

My point in sharing these examples is not to say that being out or cursing when you feel like it are the measures of authenticity. They aren’t. If you’d told me five years ago I’d be doing these things, I would have told you to go play in traffic. In other words, the me of the past is absolutely shocked by the behavior of the me of the present (as are plenty of people who’ve known me for years, I’ve been told). My point is that you really don’t know what you’re capable of until you try. Part of you will always think you can’t be assertive or honest or strong or independent or even affectionate if you’ve never been these things because that’s all you’ve ever known. But if you try a different way and succeed, you prove to that part of yourself that you’re more than what you thought you were. Is this scary? Yes, as hell. But it’s worth it. This is what 800 days of being honest has taught me–that just as you can’t have new experiences and enjoy the world around you by staying home on your couch, you can’t discover your hidden strengths, talents, and abilities by staying within your comfort zone. Indeed, everything worth having is OUTSIDE your comfort zone.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

On Tragedy, Trauma, and Transformation (Blog #797)

Phew. I just spent the entire day working. Twelve straight hours. This morning I began cleaning a friend’s house, which I’m taking care of this week. And whereas I was a bit overwhelmed when I started (it’s a big house), I’ve just been taking it room by room, piece of furniture by piece of furniture. My friend’s dog isn’t helping. In fact, when I took him for a walk this evening in the rain, he came back in the front door and promptly shook all the water off in “my” clean living room. The nerve!

Thankfully I hadn’t mopped the floors yet.

After nearly six hours of cleaning, I switched gears and went to my friends Todd and Bonnie’s to finish installing door hardware, a project I’ve been working on for a couple weeks now. This evening I put locks back on doors–um–four locks successfully. One lock broke (whoops), and another is missing parts. Who knows where they went! Next, I took a shower. Then I taught a dance lesson to a couple who’s getting married soon. The guy was so excited that he jumped up and down. I wish all my students did this. That being said, most of my students do pay me, and that makes me jump up and down, so–next best thing.

Now I’m back at my friend’s house. After walking the dog I thought about cleaning some more but then thought it better to write before my brain quit working. However, when I sat down in this chair, everything quit working–my brain and my body. Seriously, I could pass out right this very minute. Is this what people who have jobs and work all day feel like–exhausted?

Manual labor–it’s for the birds.

I’m joking, but it actually feels good to be tired. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from knowing I’ve worked hard not just today but lately. Todd and Bonnie’s looks so good–the doors are freshly painted (some else’s work), they open and shut properly (I hung some and other people adjusted them), and all the antique hardware absolutely pops. Likewise, the place I am now is beginning to sparkle. There’s still a lot to do (hopefully tomorrow), but I made a serious dent in things today. Recently a jet-lagged friend told me they cleaned their house instead of sleeping–because “it’ll feel so good when everything is finished.” This is the satisfaction I’m talking about, the yeah-it-was-tiring-but-I-did-it feeling.

This tired-but-satisfied feeling is what I often feel regarding this blog. I mean, after almost 800 days in a row, it’s starting to get old. Not that I don’t love it and not that it doesn’t do a lot for me–it does, it’s changed my life–but it wears me out. This is often the case with things that transform us. They take everything we’ve got and then some. While cleaning today I listened to a lecture about Goethe’s Faust (I and II), and the speaker said that Faust I ends in tragedy. Faust’s wife dies after killing their baby. (I know this is a spoiler alert, but the book is over two hundred years old, so it’s not like you haven’t had a chance to read it.) This is the deal on planet earth, the speaker said, tragedy comes with the territory. But don’t fret. Whereas a lot of modern interpretations of Faust end the story in despair (at the end of Faust I), Goethe intended and wrote a different ending (Faust II), an ending that includes Faust’s healing and transformation.

In other words, things get better.

Our traumas can transform us.

I’ve learned not to bemoan the horrible things in life. Not that you’ll never hear me complain about having a long day or an aching body. Complaining is too much fun. But in terms of the big stuff–the major traumas and ordeals–I don’t see the point in grousing. Because we all have shit happen. Considering the fact that our traumas can transform us if we let them, they don’t have to be the worst thing. Granted, transformation isn’t a passive act. You have to do your part, or your traumas could transform you into a resentful, bitter ass. Yes, there’s work to be done. Houses and door knobs don’t clean themselves, and neither do your insides. I wish it weren’t this way on planet earth. I wish The Hard Work weren’t required to achieve almost every truly satisfying thing. But I don’t make the rules around here. If you’re a phoenix and want a new life, you’ve got to go through the fire.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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Where Your Treasure Lies (Blog #782)

For the last two hours I’ve been procrastinating writing today’s blog. I’ve been busy, of course, doing the dishes, letting the dog in and out (make up your mind, honey!), cleaning up my hard drive (it’s too full for me to install an update), surfing Amazon for books (like I need another one). Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with this one simple task–sit down and write. Not because it’s THAT difficult to sit down and write, but because, honestly, I’ve built up a lot of mental aversion to sitting down and writing every day, every damn day. Like, it’s exhausting, and I’m kind of over it.

As I’ve said before, this is my choice. Nobody is holding a gun to my head and making me write this blog. Also, I don’t intend to quit, at least for a while. I’m committed to this process. (Before it’s over I may be committed to an institution.) All that being said, this blog is about my being honest, and I think it’s important to–occasionally–authentically acknowledge how much this project wears me out. I mean, it gives a lot, but it takes a lot. In this sense, I suppose it balances itself out.

This morning I saw my therapist, and we talked about what you and I are talking about now–procrastination, this project, and balance. In terms of procrastination (which my therapist insists “smart people” do), I said that I have several other projects I’d like to tackle, maybe before but at the very least when this one is over. “But,” I said, “it’s like I have this familial issue with essential tremors, and there’s a book about different ways to treat it that’s been on my reading list for over a year. The truth is I don’t want to read it because, what if it doesn’t do any good? As long as I DON’T read it, I can at least tell myself things could get better, and it’s the same with my other projects. As long as I HAVEN’T started them, I can tell myself that’s why I’m not currently succeeding.”

“So it’s fear,” my therapist said.

“UH, YEAH IT’S FEAR,” I said.

My therapist said that, really, we’re just as afraid of succeeding as we are failing. “Stepping into your power is terrifying,” she said. I agree. Just the thought of living a bigger, better life is enough to make me go running for the hills. Because it’s The Unknown, The Unfamiliar, THE UNCOMFORTABLE. I mean, let’s get real, I’ve already experienced the bottom of the barrel. For me, this is The Known, The Familiar, The Comfortable. I’ve already experienced being embarrassed by my station in life. Ugh. My therapist says embarrassment is one of the most difficult emotions to sit with. “But if you can do it,” she said, “you’ll eventually experience confidence–because life balances itself out.”

Recently I mentioned the principle of polarity, the idea that for every hot there’s also a cold. For every up, a down. This is what my therapist was referring to when she juxtaposed embarrassment with confidence. In other words, they are two ends of the same stick. As I understand it, this means that both emotions reside within each of us as potential lived realities, so even if you’ve been hanging out on the embarrassment side of the emotional see-saw, it’s possible to scoot your way over to the confidence side. It’s possible to pick up the other end of the stick.

The same stick you’re already holding, by the way.

Taking a thought or an emotion that’s a source of pain and turning it into a source of strength is what an alchemist would call mental transmutation or turning lead into gold. Joseph Campbell said it this way–“Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave, that was so dreaded, has become the center.” To me this means that ultimately those thoughts, emotions, and situations in my life that have been so difficult for me to experience, truly, have the most to offer me. They’re like–I don’t know–blessings in disguise.

No. That’s not right. Blessings are gifts that come to us uninvited, and I’m talking about something different. Turning lead into gold requires work, The Hard Work. There’s a concept in mythology that if you slay a dragon, you receive its power. If we look at dragons as our shadows, or those parts of ourselves we haven’t fully integrated and transformed (for example, fear or embarrassment), another way to say this would be that if we can tame our dragons, they will work FOR us and not AGAINST us. Imagine how your world would change if the emotional power that used to weigh you down were now lifting you up.

Imagine that.

But back to The Hard Work. Taming dragons isn’t easy. (If it were easy, everyone would do it.) Not because the work itself is that difficult, but because it’s painful (which makes it difficult). It’s painful to experience fear, and it’s painful to experience the death of your illusions. Said another way, it’s painful to experience the death of your identity. What I mean is that I’m embarrassed, I’m weak, and I’m afraid are all ways of labeling ourselves. And whereas they’re not the sexiest of labels, they’re still labels we hold on to. If you don’t believe me, the next time one of your friends says they’re fat or ugly, TRY to disagree with them. They won’t believe you. If they believed you, really, they’d have to change. This would mean going from The Known to The Unknown, scooting from the “I’m ugly” side of the see-saw to the “I’m beautiful” side. Yes, it’s not just that we fear to enter our caves, it’s that we also fear to walk out of them transformed–beautiful, confident, and radiant.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

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