On Flight Delays and Volatile Emotions (Blog #511)

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What a damn day.

This afternoon I drove to Tulsa to fly to Washington, DC, for a swing-dance event. HOWEVER, after boarding the plane and sitting on the tarmac for nearly two hours while a mechanical issue was being worked on, I and all the other passengers were informed that SOME of us would not only miss our connecting flights, but would also ultimately NOT arrive at our intended destinations until tomorrow. And whereas I was originally NOT one of the people who would be delayed overnight, by the time the whole thing was said and done, I was.

“You can either spend the night in Tulsa and fly out at 6:30 in the morning,” the smiling gate-agent said, “or spend the night in St. Louis on us and fly out at 9:00 in the morning.”

Of course, dear reader, you know I’m not a morning person.

“I’ll spend the night in St. Louis,” I said. “Will my checked bag be there when I arrive?”

“Yes,” she said, “yes it will.”

At this point, I really wasn’t the slightest bit put upon or pissed off. I mean, I’ve never had this overnight-delay thing happen before with an airline, but I HAVE been delayed before. Shit happens. Hell, my entire life feels like it’s been on layover for over a year now, so what’s one more day? As I’m just going to the dance event as an observer (in order to offer feedback from a business consultant’s perspective), it’s not like I HAVE to be there this red-hot minute. And whereas I was recently ticked off by an American Airlines flight that was delayed and was (in my opinion) handled poorly, this afternoon I was actually delighted by the way today’s airline–Southwest–dealt with everything. First, they gave me a voucher for the hotel, then they gave me $200 in flight credits that I can use anytime within the next year. And get this shit–when the guy next to me ordered an alcoholic drink during the flight that FINALLY took off for St. Louis, they wouldn’t let him pay for it.

“Don’t worry about it,” they said.

Talk about customer service. I’m such a bitch about these sorts of things, and they handled the entire situation like complete pros. My only objection: I wish I’d known about the free drink thing BEFORE I ordered a Ginger Ale. Still, I thought, This could work out. A free night in a hotel (I like hotels)–a good night’s rest–travel vouchers!

Arriving in St. Louis, I de-boarded the plane and found my way to baggage claim. This is the point in the story where things start to go downhill. After an hour of waiting, my bag still hadn’t shown up. So I checked with an agent. “Oh,” she said, “the computer says it never left Tulsa.”

“That’s not cute,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” she said.

“Well,” I said, “what about the fact that now I’m going to have to pay for a toothbrush and toothpaste and such?”

“Well, since the hotel has those things complimentary,” she said, “we can’t reimburse you for that.”

“Okay,” I said.

But here’s the thing–when I got to the hotel, they said those items WEREN’T complimentary and that I’d have to pay for them. Well, that I’d have to pay for them IF they had them, since they had toothbrushes but were OUT of toothpaste, and–OBVIOUSLY–a toothbrush isn’t much good WITHOUT toothpaste to put on it. So now my mouth is going to taste like a bag of assholes tomorrow morning.

And that’s not cute either.

Now I’m downstairs in the hotel at TGI Friday’s eating dinner and trying to drink enough beer to not give a shit about this frustrating situation. I keep telling myself, This isn’t personal. I’ve met several nice people who are in the same predicament as I am. And I’m safe. If I want to, I can Uber myself to Walmart to buy toothpaste and a clean pair of underwear (on my dollar). But what’s the point? Why spend money I don’t HAVE to when I can just rough it for the next twelve or so hours and hopefully be reunited with my stuff? And considering that I have to be up early tomorrow to do the whole airport security thing again, why stay up later than I have to?

How can I rework this?

How to conclude this? Currently I’m awash with emotions. And whereas normally I give myself a hard time anytime I’m frustrated, pissed off, or anything less than gracious (you know, I AM from the south), this evening I’m giving myself more latitude to feel worn out and upset. I mean, I am. That’s the truth. One thing today did provide was a lot of time to read my book about alchemy, and it said that volatile substances or emotions are actually what you want if you’re interested in transformation. In other words, it’s okay to get upset or angry or whatever because, as an alchemist, you need some type of base material to work with, some sort of lead you can take into your laboratory and turn into gold. Like, here’s a situation that’s currently weighing me down. My flight’s delayed. I don’t have any toothpaste. Now how can I rework this so that it becomes a positive instead of a negative, a reason to be grateful rather than a reason to gripe?

I’m working on it.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

[In case you didn’t notice, check out the girl who photo-bombed today’s selfie on the plane. When I spotted her just a few minutes ago, I laughed out loud. So that’s something.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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On Levity and Gravity (Blog #510)

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Today and I went to therapy, and–for the first time in a long time–didn’t refer to “the list.” Rather, I let things unfold naturally and talked about whatever came to my mind. I’m frustrated about this. I’m worn out about that. I’m angry about this AND that. “Here,” my therapist said, “take these squeezie balls and squeeze the shit out of them.” (I took the squeezie balls, one in each hand.) “Or do you need to throw something? I have things you can throw if you want to throw things.”

As instructed, I squeezed the shit out of the balls.

“I think these will do,” I said, then continued to vent, mostly about the fact that my life isn’t working like I want it to work right now. “I just feel so–(squeeze, squeeze)–fucking stuck.”

“Maybe you need to get laid,” she said.

“Yes, that’d be great,” I agreed, squeezing some more. “I’ll get right on that.”

I swear. She makes getting laid sound so easy. Maybe it would be if I were. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.)

Okay, here’s something wonderful about seeing a therapist. Specifically, here’s something wonderful about seeing MY therapist. No matter what mood I’m in or what we’re talking about, I almost always end up laughing. Even today while I was venting my frustrations about life, I was actually laughing and having a good time. And whereas this kind of joking around happens with some of my friends–I don’t know–when I over-vent to my friends, things can get so–what’s the word?–heavy. I mean, no one knows what to say when someone you love dies or you lose your job and you don’t know what the hell you’re doing with your life.

Or whatever your problem is.

But that’s a therapist’s job–to first of all know how to listen and second of all know what to say. They went to school for that shit! Not that they get it right every time (my therapist says she thinks she hits the nail on the head about thirty percent of the time), but at least they’re–ideally–objective, as much as a person can be. Like, with a friend or family member, they’re invested, often tied to or affected by your issues. But a therapist–who hears the good, the bad, and the ugly day-in and day-out–can offer a different, more-detached perspective. I know mine can watch me yell or scream or cry and not take it personally. Instead, she can support me by offering compassion, making me laugh, or otherwise helping me to lighten up.

“Let it out,” she says. “This is normal. YOU are normal. You’re going to make it. You’re going to get laid.”

Or whatever.

But back to lightning up. I’m currently reading a book called On Becoming an Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun that’s right up my alley. Today I read that two terms alchemists (people who, by one definition, are concerned with transformation) often use are “levity” and “gravity.” Levity, of course, relates to being light-hearted, lightening up, and not taking yourself or life so seriously. Think–gold. Gravity, on the other hand, relates to being heavy-hearted, serious, or–well–grave. Think–lead. Also, think about how “grave” is actually a term that relates to death or that which is below rather than above the surface (of the earth, of your consciousness).

One of my takeaways from reading about all this is that one’s perspective and (consequently) their emotions change depending on whether they’re looking at a problem from “below” or “above.” Think about it. When you’re feeling “down” and taking both yourself seriously, the world looks worse than it does when you’re feeling “up.” And it’s not that your problems have moved; it’s that YOU have.

This, I think, has been the prized jewel I’ve discovered through my work with my therapist and this blog–movement. On the horizontal plane of matter, time, and space, my problems look much the same. If it’s not one damn thing, it’s another. I still get angry and frustrated about all of it. But on the vertical plane of spirituality, psychology, and my interior, my life looks much different than it did before. Not that I don’t have “down” days, but I’m more “up” than I ever have been. Consequently, I see both myself and life differently, better. My problems are fewer and farther between. Largely due to my perspective, they resolve faster.

Except, apparently, the getting laid thing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rest gives us time to dream. One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

"

An Attention Intervention (Blog #503)

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It’s five in the evening, and all I want to do is read. I’m still in the middle of the book by Richard Bach I mentioned yesterday, and I just picked up two more (one about the moon, one about the practice of alchemy) at the library. Really, “the hunt” is as much fun as the reading, looking around, digging for new sources of information and knowledge. I really have a hard time turning it off. Earlier this week my friend Marla said, “Marcus, you’ve GOT to watch this television show on Netflix,” and I said, “I CAN’T STOP READING!”

“Do you need an intervention?” she said.

Yes, yes I do. An attention intervention.

Earlier today I saw my therapist. She said I seemed “anxious,” which I guess I am. I’ve been working a lot lately, I’m going out-of-town next week for business, and–consequently–I have a hundred things on my mind. Plus, I’m signed up with the United States Postal Service to receive digital images (pictures) of the mail that’s being delivered every day, and this morning I found out that later today I’ll be receiving a letter from my doctor. I’m assuming it’s my results from last week’s cholesterol, thyroid, and testosterone tests. And whereas part of me wants everything to be “okay,” another part of me “wants” there to be SOMETHING wrong in order to explain why my health and energy levels have been so up and down this last year.

So I’m on edge.

At one point during our conversation today, my therapist used the phrase “enough for the moment.” I think it was in the context of dealing with stressful or self-critical thoughts. Like, putting your hand up and saying, “STOP. Back off, jerk-wad. That’s enough for the moment.” But later we were talking about that concept–enough–since I often feel like EVERYONE ELSE has what they need to succeed, but I don’t, as if I need to be smarter, or better educated, or richer, or better looking in order for my life to “work out.” But my therapist reminded me that I AM enough, that WHO I AM is enough.

“You have EVERYTHING you need to succeed,” she said.

So now I’m telling myself, I am enough. I am enough for this moment.

This is something that’s been on my mind lately–this moment. Earlier today I started re-listening a set of Caroline Myss lectures that are some of my favorites–Fundamentals of Spiritual Alchemy. (Alchemy is a theme for me lately.) The basic idea is that in “this moment,” your physical body may be sitting in your chair in the living room (or wherever), but that–chances are pretty good–your spirit or soul is what Myss calls “non-local.” Like, you’re still thinking about that argument you had with a co-worker yesterday, or angry about what your mom said to you twenty years ago, or worried about what you’ll wear for your date this weekend. In other words, you (and me too) are way spread-out, anywhere but right here, right now.

Myss says that the point of alchemy and the ancient mystery schools was to train a person (an “initiate”) how to be in present time. Jesus said it this way–“Give no thought for tomorrow.” Of course, this is hard work, but worth it– since being out of present time creates psychic “lead,” which not only is a bitch to carry around (we’ve all got baggage!), but also literally slows down the pace at which your life moves–how quickly you can manifest your dreams, even how soon you can heal a physical illness. It’s fascinating. (It’s terrifying.) As Myss says–it takes AT LEAST an entire lifetime to learn.

In my way of thinking, so much of this work comes down to what you let yourself think about, what you allow to command your attention. Maybe this is a good way to say it: Do you let the circumstances of your life command your attention, or do YOU command your attention? When my therapist and I were talking about not feeling good enough, she said, “That’s a slippery slope to go down–the ‘poor me’ slope.” (I said, “Yeah, it’s a real Black Diamond.”) But the point is, we do have a choice about which hills we step onto and consequently go down. We CAN work at putting our focus on the here and now, rather than the past and awful, or the future and terrifying. We CAN self-initiate an attention intervention.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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99 Gifts (Blog #502)

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It’s almost seven in the evening, and I’ve been meaning to leave the house for an hour to meet some friends for dinner. (They said I could come “whenever.”) Anyway, they just left to run a quick errand–and then I really need to get there–so I’m going to try to make tonight’s blog a ten-minute special.

You can do this, Marcus. You can do this.

Yesterday I spent all evening helping some friends pack for an upcoming move. We were up til four in the morning. Then I came back to where I’m house sitting and crashed, sleeping past one today. This afternoon I continued reading a book I started yesterday–Illusions by Richard Bach. My favorite part so far says, “There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands.” Talk about a great perspective. You got 99 problems?

You got 99 gifts.

Otherwise I’ve spent all day internet-ing. I’m currently fascinated by the fact that–apparently–there are seven major liquids mentioned in the Bible (just like there are 7 days of the week, 7 heavenly bodies in the ancient world, and 7 main chakras)–water, blood, wine, milk, honey, (olive) oil, and dew. Anyway, I’ve been researching what these 7 things symbolize, and am working on some theories about the whole thing. Having JUST STARTED, I don’t have much to share, but here are a few things I find interesting–

  • In the Old Testament, Moses and Aaron turned water into blood. In the New Testament, Jesus turned water into wine.
  • All seven liquids, with the exception of olive oil, contain water, which is can be used as a symbol for change or the start of new life (as in baptism).
  • Symbolically, blood and wine are often used interchangeably. In some systems, like the Chinese’s Yin and Yang, blood and water are seen as complimentary.

Okay, I really need to go. I love you and would like to write more, but I have plans. I’m telling myself this ISN’T a problem, writing a super-short, somewhat-out-of-the-ordinary blog. But even if it is, surely there is a gift here. Like the fact that I’m demanding less of myself, or the fact that both you and I now have time on our hands to do something else with our lives.

So let’s get going, shall we?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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My Alchemical Laboratory (Blog #501)

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It’s two in the afternoon, and I’m house/dog sitting for some friends of mine who are out-of-town. I’m half-naked in today’s picture because, with the exception of the shorts I’m wearing, all my clothes are in the washer/dryer. The day itself is overcast, cool, and drippy. Although I have other plans, I could easily spend the entire afternoon on my friends’ couch, maybe their front porch, fading in and out of sleep. I too am overcast, since I got here at five this morning after having worked twelve straight hours with some other friends who are packing for an upcoming move. (We’re all serious night owls.) Anyway, I only slept for about six hours, which in my fine opinion, is not enough.

And yet I am awake.

Yesterday was my 500th blog (in a row), a milestone  that I intend to commemorate in the next few days with a live video and–most likely–a beer. Or cake. Hell, let’s get a cake, Marcus. Anyway, this is a big deal for me, as I’ve never committed to and followed through with anything else of this magnitude–ever. But more than simply checking off 500 days of blogging, this project has and continues to be–well–my alchemical laboratory, that place where I can meet myself time and time again, my sacred place of change and transformation.

The last time I house sat for my friends (earlier this year), I was doing my damnedest to heal from my second bout of the flu. This after a three-month-long sinus infection and a number of other health problems. (I was zapped.) The day my friends returned, my dad went into the hospital with heart problems. God, life can be a real bitch sometimes. But now things a different–not perfect, but better. My health has gradually improved, as has my father’s. I mention this because I think it’s vital to recognize that yes, sometimes the waters of life absolutely flood in and can almost drown you–but the waters recede.

Personally, one thing that’s nice about having this blog is that it gives me a daily record of my life. Last night during a snack break, my friends and I put down our cardboard boxes and packing tape, went outside, and pulled their patio chairs into the middle of their yard. There we craned our necks toward the sky in search of the Perseid Meteor Shower. Unfortunately, it was overcast last night too–cloudy. And yet I still saw four shooting stars. At least I’m pretty sure I saw them. That was something my friends and I discussed–the meteors happen so quickly, it’s easy to think, Did that really just happen? Likewise, with personal change, things often happen so slowly, I have a tendency to think the same thing–Is anything really going on here?

But–again–I have this record.

So I know.

I am changing.

Looking back, I can see it.

The waters are receding.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

"

Beautiful, Indescribable You (Blog #498)

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It’s 12:45 in the afternoon, and I’ve been awake for about an hour. I’ve already made breakfast. In about two hours I’m supposed to start work–helping some friends pack for their upcoming move–so I’m doing my level best to knock this out in record time. What would that be nice, Marcus, to write for twenty minutes and stop? (Yes, yes, it would.)

Currently I’m elated because I DID NOT wake up in the middle of the night last night shivering and sick like I did the night before. Granted, my stomach is still “meh” and I don’t have a boatload of energy, but hey–I do appear to be on the mend.

This is cause for celebration.

Okay. A few things that have been on my mind today–

1. The language of dreams

Yesterday I blogged about the different languages that our right and left brains speak, specifically that the right brain speaks in pictures, myths, and dreams. Then last night I dreamed that I was in a church, a dream location that comes up for me–uh–occasionally. A number of key players in my life were there with me, including—are you ready for this?–my cell phone, which I was recharging. Then there were a few characters I didn’t know but was getting to know–one that (I think) represents my inner writer, one that represents my inner healer.

Normally, I would spend more time analyzing this dream. At first glance, I assume it has to do with the sacred within me (the church), taking time to rest (recharging), and owning my different archetypes and abilities (writer and healer). However, one of my takeaways from the book I read yesterday is that your left brain doesn’t HAVE to analyze and make sense of your right brain’s communication. In other words, you don’t have to understand your right brain’s images–BECAUSE IT ALREADY DOES. It creates the images, it understands them.

So for now it’s enough for me to visualize the images from last night’s dream and to meditate on them, trusting that my right brain can and will use them appropriately–for change, transformation, and healing.

2. The size of the universe

At breakfast my mom showed me a 60 Minutes special about the Hubble Space Telescope. First, wow!–the universe is frickin’ big. Second, the special explained that you and I are literally made of star dust. The calcium and iron in your body and blood? That comes from the creation of galaxies. So the next time you look up in the night sky, remember–that’s where you were born. (The bad news? You’re MUCH older than you think you are.) But if you’re ever having a rough day (I’ve heard people have them), think about this–you’re one and the same with the cosmos–never separate–and just as large and as deep and beautiful and mysterious as anything else in the sprawling heavens.

You’re indescribable.

3. Hello, I’m sorry

Big props to my mom this week, since a few days ago she introduced me to SOMETHING ELSE on television–a singer named James Graham on The Four. In the show’s final episode, James sings Adele’s “Hello,” and I can’t stop watching it. First, he absolutely kills it. Not only does the audience know it, but the judges do too. I love watching their faces. And the girl he’s competing against? She knows it most of all. Her face says, “I’m toast.” But secondly, the song itself is powerful. It’s obviously about one ex-lover apologizing to another, but I often think of it as being about part of me apologizing to another part of me–my adult to my inner child, my left brain to my right brain.

Hello, it’s me / I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet / To go over everything / To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

Because ultimately, I believe that’s where most our pain comes from, when we disconnect from our own loving hearts, when we stop listening to our inner guidance and dreams, when we forget how beautiful we really are.

[Note: When I posted this originally–about an hour ago–I got the right and left brains switched up, stating that the left brain thinks in pictures. It’s fixed now. The right brain is the one that does that.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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On Symbols and Transformation (Blog #494)

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Today I have done nothing but eat, sleep, and read. I’ve read so much, my brain has turned to slush. I expect any minute now it will run out my ears and onto my shoulders. Even if it did, I’m too tired, too physically depleted to care. I’ve been wiped out all day, despite sleeping in this morning and taking a nap this afternoon.

My body is a mystery.

Currently it’s past midnight, and I’m on information overload. Earlier I finished a book on the meaning of symbols, and since then I’ve read a few chapters in a book about hypnosis and over a hundred pages in a six-hundred page book about alchemy and mysticism. Don’t ask me to intelligently summarize anything I’ve read today. Not that I haven’t learned anything, but it just hasn’t congealed yet. My inner perfectionist wishes I had instant understanding and recall of everything I read, but that’s simply not the way learning works for me. I need exposure and then application before understanding comes.

And sleep, I need sleep.

One thing I have learned–about symbols, specifically–is that they speak to both our conscious and subconscious minds. A simple as letters on a page or as complex as a mandala, symbols can range from the jewelry you put on each day to the dreams have each night, and are essentially forms of communication–a crown that denotes royalty, black clothes that indicate mourning, a red door that means “you’re welcome here.” And whereas some symbols have to be explained, others are automatically comprehended by the subconscious. For example, the four points of the cross stand for the four elements (fire and water, air and earth) or the four cardinal directions (north and south, east and west) of the physical world. So–among other things–the image of Christ on the cross is about going beyond all pairs of opposites. It’s about finding your center point, your immovable spot, your soul. But if you’re organically drawn to this image, no one has to tell you what it means. Part of you gets it.

The way I think about it, symbols CALL US to be something we CAN BE but aren’t currently. They’re like examples, seeds that are planted in our minds that, if properly tended to, can grow into the thing they stand for. Honestly, I’m not sure they work if they’re used logically and rationally and not mysteriously. Like, several years ago I bought a picture of a man dancing, then later bought a chandelier with several children dancing along the edges. I’m a dancer, of course, but it wasn’t about that. The IMAGES simply compelled me. They still do. Looking at them now, I know it’s because, deep down, I associate them with freedom. They communicate to my spirit (or rather, they communicate FROM my spirit) that there’s another way–a lighter, less encumbered way–to move about in this world.

I hope this makes sense. The point is that symbols have the power to awaken within us dormant energies or ways of being if used correctly. By correctly I mean that you have to personally identify with the symbol–it has to to you in some way, and no one else (including me) can tell you what a specific symbol means. If you look at the crucifix and want to vomit because you had a bad experience in Catholic school–well–find yourself another image. Or if dancers don’t give you a sense of peace and freedom but the beach does, go with that.

Put some sand on the back of your toilet. Hang a picture of the seashore on your wall.

The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

Lately I’ve been chewing on the idea that both symbols and the subconscious are powerful and capable forces. For years I’ve read about people who were “free” and wondered if I ever would be one of them. Internally, that is. But I’m learning to trust that just as I can read information, apply it, and watch it come together, I can also trust that I’m attracted to the symbols I’m attracted to for a reason; my life is coming together too. In other words, the symbols that fascinate us aren’t there to tease us (look what you can’t have); they’re there to transform us. Personally, I’m coming to respect them more and more. Because they work. I used to look at those dancers and think, Wouldn’t that be nice to be free? But now I think, Yes, it IS nice, this feeling of freedom. Sometimes it even comes so naturally, I think, Part of me has been a dancer all along.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

"

The Fires of Transformation (Blog #490)

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Last night I stayed up reading a book called A Headache in the Pelvis, about how tension in the muscles of the pelvis can cause (among other things) bacterial and non-bacterial prostatitis, frequent urination, and low-back and abdominal pain. The book proposes a number of relaxation and stretching exercises to help with these issues and says that the key to relaxation is (ironically) acceptance of tension. In other words, don’t fight it. Let it be. So both last night before going to bed and today while traveling, I’ve been trying this technique–paying attention to my aches and pains while breathing deeply and trying to listen to what they may be saying.

Slow down, baby. You don’t have to work so hard.

This morning, after packing all our shit into my car (Tom Collins), my aunt, my parents, their dog, and I left my sister’s in Albuquerque. (I stepped in the dog’s shit just before we left. That’s a good omen, right?) Now we’re at my cousin’s in Oklahoma City. Currently my mother and I are sitting in the dark in the living room, since my father’s sleeping in one of the recliners in here. I think we’re all a bit worn out from the trip. Tom Collins is a comfortable ride, but thanks to our massive amount of luggage (and the coolers of drinks and bags full of snacks), we were rather cramped. Plus, it was over eight hours on the road. And personally, I’m rather sick of the road.

As my aunt said, “Next time, we’re flying.” (My dad replied, “Donna Kay, you’re not flying anywhere. Do you know what it costs to check your baggage these days?! The way you pack, you’d have to win the lottery just to afford the luggage fees.”)

To my dad’s point, my aunt DOES have one carry-on-sized suitcase filled completely and exclusively with her makeup.

I spent the entire trip today with my nose in a book about alchemy and mysticism. The book itself is concerned with historical art that conveys alchemical and mystical ideas and concepts, but what’s particularly fascinating to me is the idea of transformation. Not literally turning lead into gold, but symbolically turning lead into gold–taking something base and ugly, something that at first weighs you down, and turning it into something pure and beautiful, something that sets you free or gives you new life.

Incidentally, in classical alchemy this process of transformation was sometimes seen as occurring in five specific stages that are depicted in many paintings as corresponding birds–the raven, the swan, the peacock, the pelican, and the phoenix. (How cool is that?)

Take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths.

As I see it, we all have lead in our lives. Put another way, we all have emotional baggage we take everywhere we go. (Can you imagine if the airlines charged for THAT?) Here on earth, it’s simply the way it is; everyone gets weighed down. But honestly, I think we were meant to travel light, to let go of tension, of physical possessions, of emotional baggage. Think about it–we come here with nothing–we leave here with nothing. This is what turning lead into gold is about–traveling lighter–not lugging around more shit than you have to. And not that you suddenly forget your life experiences or magically make them disappear, but you find a way to process them so they don’t weigh you down like Jacob Marley’s chains. You take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths. Like the phoenix, you burn yourself up in the fires of transformation and rise anew from the ashes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

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Inch by Inch (Blog #467)

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Despite yesterday’s onslaught of emotions, I’ve been simply dandy today. Not over the moon, mind you, but–what’s the word?–even-keeled, middle of the emotional road, “generally content” as my therapist would say. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do. And a nap–I took a nap this afternoon–that helped. God, we ARE a sleep-deprived nation. This morning I watched a promo video about a new (and popular) gym class–fifteen minutes of exercise followed by thirty minutes of honest-to-god napping.

Sign me up.

I haven’t been outside once today. Rather, I’ve spent the entire day either talking about or researching swing dancing. I’ve completely used up my laptop battery twice in the last twelve hours. My brain is full of information about Lindy Hop and everything even slightly associated with it. No wonder I haven’t been emotional–I’ve been too focused on other things to focus on myself. (What a relief.)

This is actually one of the ideas behind meditation–concentrate on your breath, repeat a spiritual passage or mantram, whatever–just give your monkey mind SOMETHING to play with. Because if you don’t–chances are–it’s going to play with old reliable–

Your problems.

My therapist says that early in life we develop “neural pathways,” which are basically “old reliable,” habits of thinking and reacting. So something “bad” happens, and you start to worry–because that’s your brain groove. You’ve worried a thousand times before. Probably since breakfast. You’ve got this patterned way of looking at life, and it feels natural, since it is natural for you. You think, This is awful. But someone else with a different rut in their noggin might think, This is wonderful–the best news ever.

As I understand it, it’s possible to work yourself out of an unproductive mental ditch into a healthier one. This is something I’ve been working on the last several years–trying, trying, trying to worry less and trust more. My therapist keeps telling me, “The universe is abundant–all your hard work is going to pay off–everything will work out for you.” Some days–I swear–she sounds like a broken record, but this is apparently what’s required to help rebuild my mental highway.

We have the option to do things in pieces.

Earlier this evening I finished the project I started a few weeks ago–going back and individually numbering all of my blog posts (blog #30, blog #31, etc.). I was so overwhelmed when I started–I didn’t even want to mess with it–but it ended up being the easiest thing. One day I’d do five posts, the next day I’d do ten. A little here, a little there. Tonight I did the final hundred, just because I had the time. My point is this–we make such a big production out of our lives. We think, I have to STOP worrying, turn my emotions around NOW, build a better brain highway THIS INSTANT. (Or is that just me?) But this thinking is bullshit, since we have the option to do things in pieces.

There’s a saying from an old movie I used to watch that’s been forever stuck in my head–“Inch by inch, life is a cinch. Yard by yard, it’s very hard.” I hate this. I’d much rather work by the yard–give me a sledgehammer any day–let’s get this damn thing over with. But in my experience, this strategy doesn’t work for personal and spiritual growth. (You can’t take a sledgehammer to your soul.) Go figure–your personal hurts, habits, and hangups didn’t develop overnight, and they won’t go away overnight either. (This applies to your waistline as well, I’m sorry to report.) So we do things in pieces. We work a little here, a little there. It’s simple.

We move inch by inch.
We remain steady.
We traverse great distances.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Transformation doesn’t have a drive thru window. It takes time to be born again.

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Any Dancing Jesus (Blog #456)

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Last night I drove to Springfield, Missouri, to attend a weekly dance at The Savoy, a ballroom owned by my friends Anne and Andy. My friend Matt was there, and it was the perfect thing–dancing, seeing friends–a way to get away. Anne and Andy rent The Savoy for weddings and events, so after the dance I helped them and Matt set it up for a local graduation. When we finished at 1:30 in the morning we went for tacos, then I crashed at Anne and Andy’s place, which is above the ballroom.

Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep great, at least at first. Probably too much beer, which was my payment for helping set things up. Also, I apparently got sunburned yesterday at my friend CJ’s farm. My back looks like something you’d find at a Western Sizzlin’ Steakhouse. Point is I must have dehydrated myself, since I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache. But then I drank a glass of water, took some Tylenol, and went back to bed, and things were better this morning.

Phew.

I’ve spent the day dicking around Springfield with Matt. First we went to Chipotle for lunch, then perused a handful of antique stores. Later we grabbed frozen custard, then came back to the ballroom so Matt could work the graduation, which is going on now. Everyone else is downstairs, and I’m blogging upstairs. Whenever the event is over, I’ll help get things ready for a wedding tomorrow (or at least help eat the leftover graduation cake). As I’m pretty beat from all the sun, dancing, and calories, I’m hoping to get a nap in first.

It may not happen.

Before my estate sale, I boasted a modest collection of religious figurines–Jesus on the Cross, the Mother Mary, a Buddha or two–I had all my spiritual bases covered. And whereas I liked all the statues for different reasons, the only one I didn’t sell was Jesus on the Cross, a mid-century modern piece I affectionately refer to as Rock Star Jesus, since his hips and arms are kind of kicked off to one side. In addition to looking like a dancer (and the fact that there’s a story in the Acts of John about Jesus dancing before his crucifixion), Rock Star Jesus reminds me to surrender joyfully to the trials of life.

I wrote a blog about Rock Star Jesus, surrendering, and resurrection here.

When Matt and I were antique shopping today, I bought another statue of Jesus, this one brass, small enough to fit in your pocket. (A travel-sized savior, if you will.) This statue, I guess, implies a cross but doesn’t actually have one. Or perhaps it represent’s the resurrection, the triumphant return, the rising. Regardless, Christ’s arms are raised higher than normal, as if in praise, as if in celebration, as if to say, “Friday was a rather bad day, but now let’s party.” The whole thing made me think of a recent picture my friend Bonnie took of me in Nashville, in which I adopted a similar pose under a sign marked “receiving.” You can read about it here, but my idea was that raising my arms represented my willingness to receive all the good (and even the not so good) life and the universe have to offer.

Your story isn’t about your physical challenges.

All this to say that I thought the new statute with its outstretched arms was the perfect reminder of a hundred things–surrender, resurrection, joy in all circumstances, receiving and abundance, even asking for a hug. (Come to papa.) This is the deal with a symbol. It can mean so many things. After four years of therapy, I look at the statue’s out-turned palms and think, There was a man with good boundaries, someone who could say no–to money changers, to temptation, to compromising his soul. (Or maybe those flicked-out wrists just mean Jesus knew how to vogue.) I know I’m making jokes about a sacred figure. I know that as of this afternoon I’ve effectively started a collection of Whirling Messiahs. But having had a challenging year, I actually take these statues seriously, since they remind me that Jesus had his challenges too and–what’s more–surpassed them. If you believe the story in the Acts of John, he danced passed them. This, I think, is the message of any dancing Jesus, that your story isn’t about your physical challenges, but rather your soul’s rising.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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