On Being Lighter Inside (Blog #1055)

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Here’s something cool that’s come as the result of the healing work I’ve been doing these last few years. Last week when I saw my therapist and she brought up the subject of money (like, how to make some), I didn’t want to crawl under the table. Two years ago, I would have. At the very least I would have listened to her suggestions and thought, That may be fine for someone else, but it’ll never work for me. But last week, strangely enough, I was like, Okay, yeah, I can do that. The cool thing being that I haven’t been consciously TRYING to get more comfortable discussing personal business strategies. At least not lately. And yet somewhere along the way I apparently lightened up around the topic.

This being said, today when my therapist encouraged me to set financial goals, I started to squirm. Now, let’s be clear, I didn’t aim for the floor. I just shifted in my seat. Still, I can see that I haven’t COMPLETELY lightened up when it comes to thinking about my financial future and how I want to get there (uh, in a limousine, please). That is, there’s still some heaviness around the subject.

Along the lines of lightness and heaviness, last night I read a short story by H.G. Wells called The Truth about Pyecraft, Pyecraft being an extremely fat chap of a man who ingests a magic potion in order to lose weight. Alas, the magic potion turns out to be a stickler for words. Instead of losing FAT, Pyecraft only loses weight, like the thing that, along with gravity, holds you down. Still the same size as he was before, Pyecraft begins to float, all the way to the ceiling. Of course, this is a damn nuisance, not at all what he’d hoped for. And yet he can’t undo the spell, so he does the next best thing: he puts lead in his underwear. The next thing you know, he’s back on the ground. Still big as a barn, he’s actually light as a feather. THIS is the truth about Pyecraft, the truth only he and one other person know.

And me and you too, of course.

I’ve been thinking about this story a lot today, about how it’s really quite literal. Not in a physical sense, but in a psychic sense. That is, regardless of how much our scales say we weigh, we all have histories and issues that weigh us down and cause us to be mentally and emotionally heavy. THIS is the truth about Pyecraft, that you can’t judge a person’s psychic weight by their body. Someone could be the size of a junior high cheerleader and have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Conversely, someone could weigh four hundred pounds and not be worried about a thing.

More and more, I’m more concerned with psychic weight than I am with physical weight. Not that I want to let myself go, but my psychic weight has caused me more issues than my physical weight ever has. My issues around money, being good enough, being terrified (of life)–these are the things that have weighed me down, really kept me from soaring. This, I assume, is the case for all of us, that it’s not what’s visible that keeps us from moving forward, but rather what’s invisible. Our secrets. Fortunately, there are ways to lighten up, to heal. Especially in today’s world of abundant and mostly free information. (For those interested, here’s a website I ran across recently that lists books and therapies about healing trauma, many of which have been helpful to me.) Now, obviously you have to put in the time. You’ve gotta do The Hard Work. But it’s worth it. Any effort you put to being lighter inside is worth it. It’s the difference between It’ll never work and Yeah, I can do that. And that’s everything.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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On What We’re Capable of (Blog #1048)

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Today I saw my therapist, and we talked about scarcity versus abundance. Mainly because over the last year I’ve had a number of “dodgy” clients who haven’t been up front about what they wanted and/or have tried to manipulate me into doing more work than we originally agreed to. “I can’t figure out if the universe wants to you learn a lesson,” my therapist said, “of if it’s just that you live in a psychic field of scarcity that affects everyone in it.” Later we talked about how for the last several years I’ve done a lot of odd job work and about how, although I’m grateful for the work because it’s kept me afloat and allowed me to focus on writing, I’d really rather be doing other things. “I want to make my living as an artist,” I said. “I have gifts to give and want to give them.”

“And be paid an appropriate amount for them,” my therapist added.

I don’t know that me and my therapist reached an exact conclusion on this matter. She did suggest being “friends” with my money as much as possible. You know, taking care of it, not being so afraid to count what I have or don’t have. Mostly I mention all this because I imagine that there are other people like me who 1) struggle with the idea of abundance and 2) wish they could make a living with their gifts and talents but continuously find themselves “just getting by” through other means.

“I’ve been just getting by for a while now,” I told my therapist.

“It’s probably bordering on intolerable,” she said.

Accurate.

I guess this post is partly about hope, the idea that even if you’ve struggled with something for a while, it can still turn around. This afternoon I saw my upper cervical doctor and told his secretary that although I’m still not perfect (something is pinched in my shoulder), I’ve only had one headache in the last month. This down from as many as four or five a week only three months ago. Seriously, they were so bad I was beginning to think nothing could help them. This is just the way it is, and all that. And y’all, I still think that about a handful of problems and challenges in my life, including my work and finances. But if one longstanding pain in the ass can turn around, so can another.

And another and another and another.

This evening I’ve been thinking about how we really don’t know what we and our bodies are capable of until we experience it. Sure, we can read about miraculous healings in books (or on blogs), but until WE experience something phenomenal in OUR body, it’s just not the same. Three months ago immediately following my first upper cervical adjustment I felt my body release emotions and shift and move itself in ways I never had before. Indeed, it was like a science fiction movie, something I didn’t think was possible. Not because my body wasn’t designed to do it, but because I didn’t KNOW my body was designed to do it.

Along these lines, much of the growth I’ve experienced through therapy has looked like me going, “I didn’t know I could do that.” This morning my dad said, “You like to confront people.” Well, it’s not that I LOVE it, I just despise the alternative, stuffing everything down, playing games, being passive aggressive. Better said, I’ve simply seen that these strategies cause more pain that they’re worth. My point being that five years ago no one would have ever said that I liked to confront people. They would have called me an avoider, a peace maker. Even I would have thought, I can’t. I just can’t confront. It’s not who I am. But having spoken up successfully on dozens of occasions, I now know that I was wrong about myself.

I just didn’t know what I was designed to do (that is, be honest).

Today my upper cervical doctor said that my nervous system looked out of whack. “You really need an adjustment,” he said, “but I’m not going to give you one.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Well, look at this,” he said, pointing to my patient history. “Here we adjusted you, and you went two weeks just fine. Then we adjusted you, and it was two more weeks. Then we adjusted you again, and here we are two weeks later. So your body’s in a pattern. It’s EXPECTING the adjustment to only last two weeks.”

“So your hope is that by going another week without an adjustment my nervous system will figure out that it’s supposed to be taking care of things without your help?” I said.

“Exactly,” he said.

Now, there’s part of me that wishes my doctor had made a correction today. Like, it might have helped my shoulder. Sitting here now, I could be more comfortable. But I’m reminded that a certain amount of discomfort isn’t necessarily a bad thing. So often we find ourselves in unproductive patterns–ways of thinking about money and ourselves, ways of acting–and stay in them because they ARE comfortable, familiar. And whereas challenging ourselves to step out of these patterns may be scary, it’s absolutely necessary if we want to discover what we’re really capable of.

This is, of course, more than we ever thought possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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On Rearranging Yourself (Blog #1045)

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I spent most of today working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. And whereas I didn’t finish, I did make good progress. Indeed, this afternoon I worked for several hours (at which point I took the picture below), and this evening I worked for a couple more. Ugh. When I get in puzzle-solving mode I lose all track of time. I skip meals, put off going to the bathroom, and delay blogging. I think, Just one more piece. Just one more section. Last year I completed a different 1,000 piece puzzle only to realize it was missing a piece. (So it was really a 999 piece puzzle.) Anyway, now whenever I can’t find a piece I convince myself it doesn’t exist. Then when I finally find it after looking “just one more time,” it’s the sweetest relief.

Earlier this week I bought a painting for four dollars (and a frame for the painting for eight), so this evening I set out to rearrange my “art wall” in order to accommodate it. And whereas I thought this would be a simple task, alas, it was not. Y’all, I spent almost two hours playing Tetris with my framed art, photos, and brooches, the main problem being that once I put the new painting above my bed I didn’t have a good spot for the old art that used to be there. FINALLY, after much frustration and upset, I decided to put the old art in my bathroom (above the toilet). After that, things were relatively simple. Well wait. Now that I think about it, they weren’t. Before it was all said and done, I hung or rehung a total of eleven framed pieces (two in my bathroom, nine in my bedroom).

Only four of the pieces on my “art wall” are in the same location they used to be.

Let’s hear it for trying new things.

I’ve said before that when you change one thing you change everything (and this is why we often avoid change), and this is what I mean. Everything’s connected. You buy one new painting, and it inevitably pushes your other ones around. Likewise, you get one new belief (like, I’m worthy of being treated well), and it can seriously upset your applecart. I mean, it sounds good to say that you deserve to be respected, but if you really believe that, what are you gonna do the next time someone (including you) disrespects you? Because this is where the rubber meets the road, where you have to speak up for yourself, have a hard conversation, or, if necessary, walk away.

Again, this is why most of us don’t buy new pieces of art, buy new pieces of art being a euphemism for change our beliefs. It’s not that we don’t like the idea of something new, fresh, and beautiful (I’m patient, I’m kind, I stand up for myself), it’s just that the rearranging we have to do in order to accommodate something new, fresh, and beautiful is seriously a lot of effort and often involves fallout.

Take money, for instance. Most anyone, myself included, would tell you that they’d LOVE to have more money. And yet most of us aren’t willing to do what it takes to have it. And no, I’m not just talking about getting a side-hustle. I’m talking about really getting honest about your relationship with money. For me this has looked and continues to look like digging into where, when, and how my beliefs about money started, realizing that despite the fact that I give myself a lot of crap about not being more “successful” in terms of worldly wealth, most if not all of the money concepts I have, for better or for worse, were handed down to me (by family, church, school, and society).

In terms of money, for decades I’ve had dreams about a particular person that I’ve always considered wealthy and successful. And whereas for years this person appeared in my dreams as far off or unapproachable, since starting therapy and unpacking my issues around money with my therapist, that’s changed. For instance, I’ve had dreams in which this person’s house has been for sale or I’ve been moving into their house, one possible interpretation being that their lifestyle is AVAILABLE to me. Last night I dreamed that, instead of me looking up to this person, THEY were looking up to me, literally serving me.

Keep working on the puzzle that is you.

As I see it, these dreams and especially last night’s dream mean that my beliefs about money are changing from “I’m intimidated” to “I”m in charge.” Better said, since this dream-person is just a part of my consciousness (and completely separate from the actual person), these dreams mean that my relationship with myself is changing. Earlier this evening I meditated on money (and relationships and all the things), and I realized that I’m accustomed to loss. Not that I’m used to always losing things or having people leave me, but it’s a FAMILIAR feeling. You might say it’s a comfortable one, albeit not a healthy or accurate one. All this to say that this is The Hard Work, the willingness to take an honest look at the beliefs that run your life and, if needed, change them by changing yourself. By rearranging yourself. This, of course, means carrying yourself differently, more confidently, and this is a scary and uncomfortable thing to do. Do it anyway. Keep working on the puzzle that is you until all your pieces fit.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Trust That Answers Are Coming (Blog #980)

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Today I finished reading three books–Esoterism & Symbol by R. A. Schwaller de Lubicz, The Hanged Man: Psychotherapy and the Forces of Darkness by Sheldon Kopp, and The Power of Your Other Hand: A Course in Channeling the Inner Wisdom of the Right Brain by Lucia Capacchione. And whereas I only this week started the first two books, I started the third one over a year ago. Alas, it’s sat on my shelf collecting dust since last summer, just waiting for me to notice it. Well, today was the day. I can’t tell you how good it felt to finally be done. And yes, I know that I didn’t HAVE to finish it. But I genuinely wanted to, was actually interested in what it had to say.

I’ve talked about divine timing before, and I continue to be amazed by it. While reading the book I just mentioned, I noticed several things made sense to me that wouldn’t have made sense to me a year ago. Better said, several things STOOD OUT to me that wouldn’t have before. But they did stand out because of other books I’ve read over the past year. I kept thinking, Oh, there was a reason I didn’t pick you back up until today. I wasn’t ready for you yet.

This evening I had dinner with a friend (we’d planned on going out this weekend but at the last minute decided to go tonight) and told them of my recent and positive results with upper cervical care. When they asked HOW I found out about this healthcare modality, I credited a dancer friend (whom I honestly don’t talk to very often) who mentioned online their positive results with upper cervical care (that they received over ten years ago). And whereas I can’t say what’s going to happen or not happen over the next few months in terms of my healing, I can say that based on how much I’ve improved in the last two weeks (I truly feel like my innate healing powers have been given back to me), this whole setup is what I’ve been praying and waiting for.

By setup I mean–I don’t think any of this has been accidental.

Getting back to the idea of divine timing, I’m astounded by what all had to happen or not happen in order for me to find out about this form of treatment. Fifteen years ago my friend and I had to meet. Ten years ago my friend had to be sick and–God knows how–find her doctor. Earlier this year my friend and I had to reconnect. And then there’s what had to happen to get my doctor close enough that I could drive to him, since he used to be located much farther away, like the only other two people in the state who do what he does. Anyway, I could go on but won’t. I just keep thinking that answers are being lined up for us LONG before we even ask our questions. I just keep thinking that it doesn’t make much sense for me to try to tell the universe how to do its obviously complex job.

Because it’s doing just fine.

When I wasn’t reading today, I was tidying up my room. My therapist says when you’re feeling SCARCITY, one way to feel ABUNDANCE is to give something away. “It doesn’t have to be a lot,” she says. “It could be a dollar, a t-shirt, a hour of your time. Anything to get the energy flowing.” So that’s what I did, picked out stuff to donate–several shirts, a pair of shoes (the too-big ones I tore my ACL in), a handful of books I’ll either never read or never read again. Let someone else enjoy them, I thought. Then I went through my “paper pile” and threw this in the trash, filed that in a folder. Then I reorganized a few shelves in my closet. You know how one thing leads to another.

I wish I could tell you WHY I felt compelled to tidy up my room today or–as I’ve been doing recently–clean up my Facebook friends list. My therapist says any cleaning out makes room for other things to come along, so maybe that’s it. Maybe a part of me knows that this blog is coming to a close and–at the same time–my body is mending, so I just need more “room,” more health for whatever is coming next. But this is speculation. I can’t say why anything happened today, just like I can’t say why the sun rose this morning. I only know that it did, it was right on time, and it was perfect. More and more I know it’s not my job to know why. Rather, it’s my job to follow my inner guidance, that voice that says, “Check out that doctor. Read this book, not that one. Go to dinner now, not later.” It’s my job to be patient, trust that answers are coming, and enjoy the mystery of it all.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to find a problem, you will.

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On Resting and Experiencing Abundance (Blog #945)

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After posting yesterday’s blog, last night I went two-stepping. Talk about fun. There was a live band and everything. Today Facebook reminded me with a video that I was at this same venue, for the first time ever, a year ago. And whereas due to my knee injury and subsequent surgery this last December my dancing last night wasn’t what it was back then, I was still there, moving. I think this is important to remember, that just because you slow down doesn’t mean you have to quit. Just because your body changes doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the things you love.

Recently I told my therapist that a theme for me lately has been slowing down, chilling the eff out. My therapist was all for this and reminded me of one of her favorite sayings–don’t just do something, sit there. “Inaction is as powerful as action,” she said. “There are times when we simply need to rest and let things synthesize.” Nature knows this. Currently it’s fall, and the trees are shedding their leaves. For months they will appear to do nothing. However, come spring, look out, boy, they’ll be filled with life.

Last week I mentioned that you really don’t know what’s happening in terms of healing whenever your body’s sleeping. Along these lines, just because you can’t see signs of growth in nature during the fall and winter, doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening, and just because you’re not consciously DOING something doesn’t mean your subconscious isn’t. This idea has been on my mind a lot lately, that there’s more we don’t know than there is we do. We pray to the heavens and ask for help and then get upset when we don’t see immediate answers. But hasn’t it been your experience that God works in mysterious ways? For all you know, your answer could be being lined up for you, halfway around the world for that matter. Again, just because you can’t see something (an answer) doesn’t mean it’s not there or in the works.

The gods like surprises.

This afternoon I went out with a friend of mine for a late lunch, and we talked about financial concerns, which we both have, and job security, which neither of us have. Last night at the dance I told another friend, “I’m really trying to settle into this idea of abundance, not in the sense that I have to be flush with cash in every moment, but rather in the sense that the universe hasn’t forgotten about me and will always provide.” Well, tonight my friend and I got up to pay the bill, and the new girl at the register couldn’t find our ticket in the system. I don’t know about my friend, but I was thinking, Come on, sister, get your act together. I have to pee. The next thing I knew, the manager was there, and get this shit. She said, “Your ticket isn’t in the system because it’s already been paid for.”

My friend and I couldn’t figure this out. Neither of us knew anyone else in the restaurant. And yet someone picked up our tab. Either that, or there was a glitch in the system. Either way, we agreed, the universe did us a solid. And whereas normally when the universe picks up my tab my first thought is–That’s awesome, but what about the rest of my bills?–tonight I was simply grateful. Whenever I get in a tizzy about money, my therapist asks me, “Do you have money in your pocket, even five dollars? Do you have a roof over your head and gas in your car?”

“Yes,” I always reply.

“Then you’re being provided for,” she says. “By the majority of the world’s standards, you’re rich.”

More and more, I’m encouraged to bring the idea of abundance home to today. Like, today I was able to slow down, to rest. Today I ate a delicious meal I didn’t pay for. Today I enjoyed the company of a dear friend, absent any disagreement or strife. Today I was safe, supported, and encouraged.

Yes, today I experienced abundance.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

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I took the above photo several years ago from the window of my old dance studio. (Facebook reminded me about it today.) Back then I was on the second story of a cool building in Historic Downtown Van Buren. Sometimes after everyone else left I’d sit in the window or crawl out on the roof and watch traffic go by and stare at unaware pedestrians, maybe while listening to Jamie Cullum or smoking a cigarette. Especially on evenings when the sun was setting and the sky was a Crayon box of colors, it was like my little piece of heaven. I don’t miss many things about the studio now, but I miss that spot and the feeling I had sitting there. As The Drifters so accurately said, “On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be.”

Last night I went to bed sick with sinus junk. And whereas I was hoping my probiotics would heal me during the night, they didn’t do crap, which means I woke up with more (really colorful) junk this morning. This was frustrating, but not completely disheartening. I have, after all, been down this road dozens and dozens of times before, and my body always eventually finds its balance. A word that’s been popping up in my experience the last twenty-four hours is harmony, the idea of everything working together in unison. This is what I’m hoping for–harmony in my sinuses, harmony in my body. It’s what I’m praying for. It’s what I’m working toward.

Despite my having a head full of phlegm, today has been lovely. I saw my therapist this morning, ate a tasty salad for lunch, then spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, reading, learning. Then I ran all over town in search of MORE probiotics to hopefully help my sinuses. This mission was only mildly successful–I found one new thing to try–but that’s okay. I enjoy the hunt, the trial and error. Do I enjoy hacking and coughing in the meantime? Hell no. But I have noticed the last few months that being sick carries less of a “charge” for me than it used to. What I mean is that I used to really freak out, worry, and stress every time I got sick. I’d think that God was punishing me, that if I were only a better or smarter person I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Now most of that guilt and fear is gone. I still get sick, I just don’t beat myself up about it like I did before. Plus, I have more hope. Over a year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted three months. It was hell, but I made it. So I know whatever happens from here on out, I’ll make that too.

One of the things my therapist and I discussed today was abundance, which is something she deep-down believes in and something I think sounds good if you say it fast. That being said, I’m coming around to the idea. Anyway, she’s recently been sick also, and she said that when you’re an independent operator (who gets paid by the hour) and get sick and can’t work, it’s easy to question the notion that you’re always supported by God or the universe. “But we are,” she said. “We always have more than we need.”

“I have more snot than I need,” I said.

I told my therapist that recently I’ve had some strong emotional reactions to things. For example, I got immediately angry when someone sent me a text message. I got squirmy when someone else asked me to do a certain odd job. And whereas I knew that my emotions were information from my intuitive system saying respectively, “Stand up for yourself,” and, “Run, Will Robinson,” my therapist suggested thinking of my emotional reactions as “tells.” Like, in the future when I become immediately angry or squirmy, I’ll know it’s my gut’s way of communicating, “Look alive, kid.” She said she has her tells for knowing when a potential client won’t work out and always regrets it when she goes against her inner guidance.

I realize I’m jumping around here, but this is how my therapy sessions work. Shit happens in between visits, and I make a note about it. Then when I finally see my therapist, I hop from note to note. One minute we’re talking about comedians on Netflix (we both have a thing for stand-up), the next minute we’re talking about a confrontation I’ve had or need to have, and the next minute we’re talking about relationships. Today she said, “Relationships aren’t for punks.” This came up because I’ve had a number of friendships fizzle out over the last several years and sometimes still feel gross about it. I think, Who was right and who was wrong? Am I being stubborn? Am I holding a grudge? But as my therapist explained, “Relationships are real messy. Both parties have to be adults. They have to be willing to own their shit and apologize when necessary.”

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to look back at photos and think, Those were the good old days. Bitch, please. There’s no such thing. Sure, there might have been something in your past that you enjoyed and wish you could experience again, but–I swear–it wouldn’t be the same even if you could. Additionally, we forget that life–our past, present, and future–is always a mixed bag. I miss sitting on the roof at my old dance studio. I miss that peaceful feeling. However, I don’t miss the drama of owning the studio or my lack of self-awareness at the time. Back then I had a great view of downtown, but a piss-poor view of myself and my relationships. Largely thanks to therapy and this blog, now my perspective has shifted dramatically for the better. Doing The Hard Work has made all the difference. Now I can get that peaceful feeling anywhere–because it’s inside me. Not just on the roof.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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Scrooge McDuck and the Second Deadly Sin (Blog #850)

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Today while cleaning I listened to two one-and-a-half-hour lectures about spiritual alchemy and a one-hour podcast/interview about grief. Then I went to dinner and read Caroline Myss’s Defy Gravity for two hours (I’m on a Myss kick lately), then came back to where I’m house sitting and read it for an hour more. And whereas I’d intended to finish the entire book tonight, my body and this blog said no. We’re too tired, we have too much to do. So whatever, that’ll just be one more book I’ve started and “need” to finish. I say need in quotation marks because as my therapist often says, “You don’t NEED to do anything. You could stay at home and eat bonbons all day if you wanted to.”

Whenever she says this, I squirm in my seat.

Like the rest of America, I’m hung up on being productive.

In Defy Gravity Caroline says that of the personal healings she’s aware of, the healings haven’t come about as a result of the mind-body connection. Rather, they’ve come about as a result of the mind-body-SOUL connection, since, she says, your rational mind doesn’t have the power to heal you but your irrational soul (your spirit) does. If you’re a follower of Caroline’s work, this is why she talks about the healing power of forgiveness and how it will never make sense to your mind (your ego). It will however, make sense to your soul.

In discussing soul work and mysticism, Caroline associates each of the seven deadly sins, as well as the seven graces (gifts of the spirit) with the seven main chakras of the physical body. For example, the first (root) chakra is located at the base of your spine and is linked to one’s fear of and need for survival. It’s our connection to THE TRIBE, as in, What will THEY think? As such, according to Caroline, the deadly sin of the first chakra is pride, which is “rooted” in the fear of being humiliated. The grace for this downfall? Reverence.

As I understand it, a grace is something you can seek out and ask for, but it’s not something you can make happen. Likewise, it’s not something you can reason yourself around to with your mind because–again–a grace comes from or is at least given to the soul. It has an effect on your mind, but that’s not its home. And whereas it’s easy to think of a grace as something fantastic and spectacular that marches into your life like a Christmas parade, more often than not, it’s not. For example, the day I asked a counselor friend of mine for a recommendation for a therapist and he gave me my therapist’s name, that was a HUMONGOUS grace. Of course, I didn’t know it then. I just jotted down the number and off I went. It took time for me to realize how “lucky” I was to be introduced to that one person, how my much life would change for the better.

Back to the seven deadly sins, the one that’s on my mind tonight is greed, which Caroline links to the second chakra, our center of relationships–to other people, to money, to sex. Rightly so, I think, some yoga practitioners refer to the second charka, which is located at the level of your sex organs, as the emotional junkyard. Personally, I’m not afraid to say I have a lot of issues there–both emotional and physical. Anyway, it felt like a bit of a slap in the face when I read that greed is the potential driver behind the issues in my second chakra, since I don’t picture myself as a Scrooge McDuck. But one way Caroline describes greed is having the thought or feeling that “there’s not enough.”

Well, okay, fine, you got me there.

For me, the idea of “not enough” is deeply engrained and ever present. I could blame this on my particular life circumstances, but the truth is, scarcity is embedded in our culture. Just look at any form of advertising. All of it’s built around the idea that we don’t have enough–beauty, wealth, friends, or vacation time. Many spiritual books subtly (and not so subtly) convey the idea that we don’t have enough spirituality. Where I personally feel the most scarcity (or a greed for more) is in my finances and my knowledge-base. This is why I’m constantly listening to lectures, constantly reading. Granted, I enjoy these things thoroughly, but underneath it all is a fear that I don’t have enough of whatever it is and, therefore, need more of it. Personally, I think most of our ugly inclinations (seven deadly sins) have fear at their base.

Caroline says the grace we need to counteract greed (or the fear of scarcity if that’s easier for you to swallow) is piety, humility, or devotion to God. As I understand this, this grace puts us in touch with another quality of the second chakra–creativity. This is important because–and I can speak to this personally–our creative energy is a limitless flow of resources. Said another way, our creativity is abundant, anything but scarce. I’ve experienced this firsthand in writing every day for 850 days. Never once has my creative well run dry. Likewise, I’ve experienced instant creativity on the dance floor, especially when I’m in the moment and not thinking about what others think of me. This, I think, is where piety or humility comes in. Whenever I’m trying to impress someone, whenever I think, I’m hot shit, my creativity shuts down.

I’ve said before that I often feel or believe that good things happen to other people but not to me. Now, I can logically tell you that’s not true, but our feelings and beliefs are rarely logical. Anyway, my therapist says this is a dumb belief. “Good things happen to everybody,” she says. “If the Kardashians can make money, so can you.” Once while discussing this topic I said, “I guess it’s another way of feeling like I’m special–because I’m the exception to the rule.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, “but special in a real dumb way.”

Like I frequently do in our sessions, I laughed out loud when she said this. Why? Because it’s true. It is dumb to think good things happen to others but not to you. It’s another form of scarcity. Likewise, it’s dumb to think you live in a “not enough” universe when you’ve been taken care of and had more than enough you’re entire life. Like, how many pairs of shoes do you have? And yet you only have two feet. If you really get this point, you’ll laugh out loud too. This, I think, is another way grace comes to us, through those moments when we really see ourselves and how ridiculous we can be. Scrooge McDuck had so much gold that he could swim in it, and yet he wanted more. We have everything we have (we have enough, we are enough), and yet we want more.

Talk about funny.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The truth doesn’t suck.

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On Breaking Through (Blog #831)

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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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If anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

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Let’s Talk about Poop (Blog #819)

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This morning I mowed my parents’ lawn, and because the grass was both thick and damp, made an absolute mess of myself. You should have seen my legs. They looked like they belonged to someone of a different nationality. I had my shirt off, and even my back was covered in filth. Afterwards, when I was in the shower, the water slowly washed it all away. For a moment the dirt, mud, and grass swirled around the shower drain then eventually went to live somewhere else, somewhere other than my body.

Last night I redecorated my room because yesterday afternoon I bought a new (to me) statue at an antique store and wanted to display it. As I mentioned in last night’s blog, finding a place to put the statue led to rearranging almost everything on the piece of furniture where the statue now sits. This “moving around” process has continued today. After I mowed the lawn and took a shower, I combed through all of my on-display possessions in an attempt to listen to the voice inside me that was telling me it was time to “purge,” to clean up my room like I’d just cleaned up my body. And whereas when it was all over I’d gathered up a handful of books to donate to a local library, I first had an internal struggle.

My “purge” voice said, “Get rid of that book. You don’t need it. Let someone else enjoy it.”

Then my “hold on” voice said, “But it’s pretty. It has a nice cover. I like it.”

Then my “scarcity” voice said, “What if we NEED it later? What if we never find another book like it? What if there’s NOT ENOUGH?”

Finally, Marcus at the Head of the Table made a decision. “We’re getting rid of that book,” I said. “End of discussion.”

Honestly, I was almost swayed by my “hold on” voice. I’ve let go of a lot over the last few years–most of my worldly possessions and not a few relationships. Haven’t I given up enough already? Can’t I hold on to a book if I want to?

Well, yes and no.

I’ll explain.

Our souls don’t cling to A Thing.

I have a lot of possessions that I like and enjoy but am not “attached” to. This means my butt might pucker a little if someone were to break or steal them, but, by the end of the day, I could gladly part with them. However, there are certain items that part of me clings to, that like Gollum in The Hobbit says, “We needs it.” This is when I absolutely know the best thing to do is buckle down and balls-to-the-wall set it free. Because we’re born into this life with nothing, and we leave with nothing, and I’ll be damned if a book or any other physical possession is going to turn me into a “hanger-on-er.” Our souls arrive free, and they leave free. They don’t cling to A Thing.

Byron Katie says that “letting go is sometimes experienced as sadness,” but that ultimately the sadness you feel isn’t about letting go of any possession (or person), but rather about letting go of your beliefs–the belief that you NEED something (or someone), the belief that you’re more or less because you have it (or them) or not. Yesterday I said that because everything in life is connected, changing one thing means changing everything. This applies to physical, outer-world changes, and especially to non-physical, inner-world changes, or–beliefs. As Katie would say, the letting go of a belief is the letting go of “a whole world.”

So of course you’d be sad.

Last night I went to dinner with my friend Kate and her four-year-old son. We all rode to the restaurant together, and at some point during the ride Kate’s son–out of the blue and unprovoked–said, “Marcus, let’s talk about poop.” Kate and I laughed, and I said, “Okay, let’s talk about poop.” Later I told Kate, “That’s going to be the name of a blog post,” and it’s pretty much been all I’ve been able to think about today, mostly because poop is the perfect metaphor for letting go and getting rid of that which no longer serves you. Sooner or later, you gotta do it. If you don’t, you’re gonna have a problem.

So get this shit. (See what I did there?) Today Kate’s husband, Aaron, posted a meme about that feeling you get when you’re ALMOST HOME but losing the “I gotta go number two” battle. I’ll spare you the visual details, but my initial reaction to his bathroom humor was the same as Aaron’s Mom, who said, “That’s really GROSS.” Well, Aaron, ever the comedian, responded, “The truth is gross, Mom.”

Amen. Truer words were never spoken.

In my adventures in mental health and personal and spiritual growth, the truth is nasty, filthy, a monster, and rarely fun. Like poop, it’s anything but cute. What I mean is that it’s hard as hell to get honest with yourself and others. Since starting this journey, I’ve had more difficult conversations with people I love or have loved than I care to recount. Often these conversations looked like confrontations, confrontations I either started or was on the receiving end of. My therapist says, “Is it fun to have these talks? No. Would I rather talk about something trivial? Yes. But uncomfortable, truthful conversations are the foundation or healthy relationships.”

In my experience, although I wish there were another way, this is accurate. For years, decades, I tried to hold on to my secrets until they were finally too much and I got the courage to tell my therapist, my friends, and family, “Let’s talk about poop. Let’s talk about the shit in our lives.” Again, these hard conversations, as well as letting go and changing, aren’t pleasant, but they’re the only reliable ways I’ve found to produce inner peace, further self-acceptance, and foster true connection with others. This is something Jesus forgot to say directly, that the truth will set you free–you’ll like the results–but you ain’t gonna like the process.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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On Books and Abundance (Blog #785)

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It’s 7:45 in the evening, I just got back from dinner, and sometime soon my friend Justin is coming over to hang out and catch up. Because our chats often go on for hours, I’m hoping to be done blogging by the time he gets here. I simply can’t imagine that my brain will feel like waking up and rising to the occasion at two in the morning. Not that I haven’t blogged late at night a hundred times before. God knows. Last night I started at midnight. And whereas I technically finished writing in an hour, I dragged the editing process out until three because I kept “tabbing over” to an online library I discovered. No kidding, they have millions of digitalized books that you can either download or borrow for free. I spent hours comparing my Amazon wish list to the site’s catalog and found over thirty-five books I’ve been wanting!

Lately I’ve been spending more time “collecting” books or searching for them online than I have actually reading them. Not that I haven’t been reading. It just takes so much time. Conversely, downloading a book, or flagging it on a library site, only takes a moment. Anyway, I’ve amassed quite the reading list. And whereas this used to overwhelm me, like, How will I ever read all these?, I’ve realized I don’t have to. There’s not a cosmic librarian or test administrator who’s going to quiz me on what’s in my head. Rather, all these books are here for my pleasure. And the fact that there are SO MANY BOOKS TO POTENTIALLY READ?

That’s just a sign of abundance.

Recently I heard that God is not a miser. That is, you can’t look at life, with it’s thousands of varieties of animals and plants on the earth and millions of stars in the sky and say that it’s cheap or anything but extravagant. This is my point about books. The world is full of information, knowledge, and stories. It always has been and always will be. This is why it’s becoming more and more ridiculous to me when I hear people say that things will never change or that THEIR problem can’t be solved. You’re telling me you live in a universe that can hang a moon in the sky but can’t fix your situation?

I know that my problem for the longest time has been that although I could see the abundance of the universe, I felt disconnected from it. Having been told by religion that I’m a worm and a sinner, a stranger in a strange land, I haven’t exactly felt like I belonged here or was otherwise worthy of experiencing and receiving life’s abundance. But that’s changing for me. Now I believe that, just like the trees and stars, I have a right to be here. Indeed, I am part of life and have a purpose in being here. And just like everyone else, I’m allowed to experience the very best (and worst) that life has to offer.

My therapist says that almost every client she has deals with “poverty mentality” in one way or another. Today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said although poverty mentality can feel good (because we get to feel sorry for ourselves), the truth is that we’re anything but poor. (I’m not talking about money.) Rather, we come into life vastly supported, set up to succeed. Our souls and psyches offer us endless resources. This morning I watched a video about human living fascia, what most people call CONNECTIVE tissue, but what one researcher says is actually CONSTRUCTIVE tissue. Oh my gosh, y’all, fascia is glorious, genius. No kidding, you’re made of a gossamer web of light. My point being that our physical bodies are marvelously made, abundant in their wisdom.

For me, this is where abundance begins–recognizing where I’m already rich beyond measure. Sure, it’d be easy to focus on money, or lack thereof. Everything is about money in the world. But I could have ten times–a hundred times!–the money I have now and still feel poor. Still wake up every day and be totally ignorant of the endless beauty around me, the endless resources in my mind, body, and soul, and the endless potential answers that exist to all my challenges and problems. To anyone’s. So more and more I’m grateful for hundreds of books and millions of stars, for they remind me not only of the abundance of that I am connected to, but also of which I am constructed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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So perhaps perfection has little to do with that which changes and everything to do with that which doesn't. For surely there is a still, small something inside each of us that never changes, something that is timeless and untouchable, something inherently valuable and lovable--something perfect.

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