Worth It (Blog #1000!)

Phew. Here we are. Blog #1000. We made it. I made it. Two years, eight months, and twenty-six days ago I began this journey honestly not knowing what I was doing or where I was going. And whereas I’m not sure I know now (does anyone ever know what they’re doing or where they’re going?), I’m nonetheless here with–as of yesterday–892,141 words more than I started with. Granted, not every word or every post has been brilliant. How could it be? And yet all together these words and posts have provided a container, a structure in which something brilliant has happened.

To be clear, I’m not referring to this body of work, this blog, as brilliant. Granted, I’m proud of it, but more and more I don’t have to label it. Recently I’ve watched a couple documentaries about The Sphinx, and one scholar dates it as old as 36,000 years. My point being that over the centuries countless numbers of people have looked upon this sculpture and issued their opinions about it. It’s magnificent, it’s glorious, it’s weird, it’s crap. Whatever. I’m sure those who built it had their thoughts about it too. It’s not good enough; we should probably redo that nose. Meanwhile, the creation itself has existed as it is, quietly knowing that our opinions are powerless to change art. Art, however, is more than capable of changing us if we let it.

This is the brilliant thing I’m referring to, the fact that somewhere in the midst of all these words and posts a glorious, necessary, and humbling transformation has taken place–mine. Now, I know this is a bold claim–look at me, I’m different!–but I’m just stating facts (and I’m not ASKING anyone to look). Even if I were, I could write until I’m blue in the face and not be able to PROVE to another soul that my soul is any different today than it was 1,000 days ago. But it is. Specifically, it has more of a voice in my decisions, my moods, and my relationships. Because I’m more in touch with it. THAT’S what this vessel has provided–a place for me to meet myself. Time and time again it’s given me a space–a virtual therapy office if you will–for me to be my own listening ear, my own compassionate shoulder to cry on, my own caring counselor.

For those of you who have in any way watched, supported, or shared this space and this journey of mine, I am deeply grateful. Truly the path to one’s self is often and by definition a lonely path, and yet–paradoxically–we never walk it completely alone. More and more I’m convinced: both here and “elsewhere,” we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Witnesses who happily cheer us on.

Transformation requires more than a charge card.

Perhaps one of the reasons the path to one’s self (the journey of personal growth, the way of spirituality, the royal road) is lonely is because so much of it is internal (where you are, where God is, and where other people aren’t) and not external (where the world is, where people are, and where stuff is). If it were external, it’d be easy to prove to other people how you’ve changed or transformed. This is how most of the world operates. We get a new car, house, or haircut and think that changes US. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Despite what the advertisers and marketers want us to think, it’s not that easy. Transformation requires more than a charge card. At best our outward changes affect others’ PERCEPTION of us, and–as you know, dear reader–the perception of others is a fickle mistress. One day someone approves of us and what we do, wear, and say, and the next day they don’t.

Where’d their approval go? we think.

Well, in the words of the warden in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, it “up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”

Tonight I concluded Christmas at a dear friend’s house, where we ate dinner, toasted each other, and exchanged gifts and stories. Y’all, more and more I believe that a good story is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, especially if it makes them laugh, comforts their heart, or challenges them to think in a new way. Well, my friend gave me such a gift tonight. They said they once hosted a large fundraiser, and the band for the event showed up–what’s the phrase?–high as a damn kite. And whereas most the musicians managed fine, the bass player either accidentally or on-purpose kept playing DIFFERENT songs than the rest of the band.

“I think he just didn’t give a shit,” my friend said.

Thankfully, the man (the genius) running the sound board turned off the bass player’s microphone, and no one in the audience ever knew the guy was completely stewed. My friend only knew because the sound technician put a pair of earphones on their head and said, “Hey, get this shit.”

Y’all, this is what this journey I’ve been discussing is about–turning DOWN the external voices in your life and turning UP the internal ones. In the last 1,000 days I’ve referred to these voices as your soul, your spirit, your highest self, your intuition, your guidance, your inner wisdom, your angels, God, the universe, the gods, and–I could go on. And whereas I don’t see all these terms as exactly the same, my point is–I just don’t think we’re alone here. Recently I had a friend comment, “I don’t believe in gods.” Fine. It has never been nor will it ever be my intention on this blog to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, least of all the higher mechanics of the cosmos. Changing someone else is NEVER the point of this work. Again and again and all day long until the cows come home, the point is changing oneself.

Transforming oneself.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means exactly that–that the forces we read about aren’t outside but inside us, that if you can’t read about Sisyphus eternally rolling a giant rock up a mountain or Jesus hanging on the cross and put YOURSELF there and thus relate the story to YOUR life, you’ve missed the point. (Every story is about you. What is in all is in one. What is in one is in all.) People externalize their gods, their beliefs. They say, “Jesus loves the little children. God hates fags.” No, they don’t. YOU do. How do I know? You’re the one who said it; you’re the one who did it. This is what personal responsibility and accountability are all about–realizing that you no longer get to blame someone else (God, your neighbor, or a book) for YOUR actions.

This sucks, I know.

There’s an idea in The Bible about not building your house upon the sandy land but rather building your house upon the rock, where, as a children’s song says, “the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know.” And whereas I do NOT intend this as preaching or evangelizing, I DO intend it as SYMBOLIZING.

I’ll explain.

Recently I’ve been obsessed with a song by Maren Morris called “The Bones.” It’s my flavor of the week. In essence the song is about a couple’s relationship, the idea being that when two people have a home with a solid foundation they can weather any storm. Getting back to the idea of symbolizing or being able to relate any story, mythology, or wisdom to one’s self, my thought has been that if I–if YOU–have a solid internal foundation, we can confidently navigate the trials and tribulations of life. This is the path I keep talking about, the path therapy and this blog have been such a huge part of for me, the building of an unshakable inner base. Y’all, I wish I could tell you that the right therapist, doctor, doctrine, or god can and will protect you from life’s hurts and heartaches, but alas, this is simply not the case. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is selling you snake oil. What is true, however, is that if you’ve done the inner work and have your priorities straight, you can best any challenge. Granted, life may bring you to your knees (it will), but as Morris says, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”

If the last thousand days have taught me anything, it’s that any time you spend building a solid foundation or working on your interior structure is time well spent. Every minute and every hour, as uncomfortable as it may be, is gold. (Did I forget to mention that being born again is unpleasant? Well, it is. Ask any screaming baby.) Likewise, any time you spend searching for, sharing, or living the truth will set you free. Not just sort of, but really. Granted, the truth may turn your world upside down (it will). Things may get worse before they get better (they will). But if a house doesn’t already POSSESS a solid foundation or structure, isn’t it best to tear it down and start from scratch in order to have something stable, something that will last? Don’t you want something real? I’ve spent almost six years in therapy, nearly three years blogging every day, and countless hours self-improving, and I’m telling you–it’s exhausting. But I’m talking about you here. Aren’t you worth all the effort?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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Crowning (Blog #891)

Today, for the first time in over a year, I caught up with my friends Kara and Amber. The three of us went to high school together and usually reunite several times a year. However, this last year–for whatever reason–it’s been difficult to coordinate schedules. “We tried,” Amber said today. “We made plans.” But once I got stuck in a major traffic jam and couldn’t make it (we all live in different cities). Once Kara had a friend who passed away. Once the weather was bad. Shit happens. Alas, we finally saw each other today.

We ate pizza.

We talked about everything.

We ate pie.

It was fabulous.

After (our very long) lunch, I went shopping this evening, mostly because my birthday is next week and I hate wearing old, worn-out, frumpy clothes on my birthday. Anyway, I ended up with two pairs of pants, a t-shirt, and a pair of (ridiculously comfortable) shoes.

Even better, everything was on sale.

I imagine that discussing my wardrobe is riveting for you, dear reader, but I bring it up to say this. Three years ago when I was preparing to have my estate sale, I had all sorts of wild clothes. (Recently a boy asked me, “Do you want to be wild and make out?” and I replied, “Please, I’m OLD. I’m not wild.” This is how you know you’re almost forty. And that your therapy is paying off. You turn down twinks. But I digress.) By wild clothes I mean–clothes of every different color and pattern. But when I had my estate sale, all of that went away. Ever since, I’ve worn mostly black, white, and gray. A while back somebody referred to my wardrobe as–utilitarian.

That’s another word for sexy, right?

I’ve said before that my plain-Jane wardrobe of the last few years has been due to the fact that I’ve been in mourning. This is (in my opinion) funny, but accurate. What I mean is that when I closed my studio and had my estate sale, it was in an effort to start or birth a new life, a life as a writer. As I’ve said over and over again–in order to be born again, one must first die. (This sucks, I know.) So the life I’ve been mourning has been–my own.

Along this path, it’s been suggested by others that 1) I may have overdone it when I had my estate sale and 2) I could spruce up my ho-hum clothes. All I can say is that everything I’ve done and everything I’ve worn has felt right at the time. Two years ago it felt absolutely right to wear a black t-shirt every day. Appropriate. So I did.

What’s fascinating to me is that I’ve noticed a shift in what feels appropriate–authentic–to wear this last year. Slowly, I’ve been introducing color. Not because it’s been suggested to me or as a strategy to perk myself up, but because something inside of me has changed. (Inside first, outside second.) The two pairs of pants I bought today are green and pink, respectively. The t-shirt I bought is yellow. Y’all, it’s been almost three years since I’ve owned or worn a yellow shirt. I take this an indicator that whatever phase I’ve been in is coming to a close and a new one is beginning. I’m not saying my mourning phase is completely over and that I’m being born again, mind you. But I do think it’s possible I’m–what’s the word?–crowning.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t change what happened, but you can change the story you tell yourself about it.

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Natura Non Facit Saltus (Blog #542)

Last night I lay in bed until three reading a book about gothic churches that I downloaded on my phone. The book points out that gothic architecture was specifically designed and intended to speak to a person’s soul in terms of transformation. For example, in Notre Dame in Paris (as well as in a number of other classic cathedrals), those who enter do so from the west so that they’re facing the east, where the sun rises–the understood message being, “Leave the shadows and enter into the light.” Not surprisingly, the church itself is laid out like a cross (the longer section running east to west, the shorter section or “transept” running north to south), the cross being a symbol of heaven (the vertical) meeting earth (the horizontal), as well a symbol of death, since one must die or be crucified (figuratively speaking) before one can be transformed or born again.

Having stayed up late the last two nights, I can definitely feel it. Today my body has been–um–sluggish. Maybe I can get back to my sleep schedule tonight. As it’s been one full week since I began trying to get more sleep and exercise, today seems like a good day to reset and reevaluate. Can I reasonably keep these changes up? Where do I need to back off? Where do I need to step things up? Considering I have more work to do this week than last week, I know some adjustments are definitely in order.

This afternoon while reading about how alchemy relates to violins (I’m not kidding), I picked up a phrase that was used to describe the sound quality of a Stradivarius–strong but not strident. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Recently my therapist and I talked about being able to be DIRECT and yet still have STYLE. How can you be HONEST and not be RUDE? How can you be STRONG but NOT STRIDENT? In my experience, it takes A LOT of practice.

Like playing the violin.

This evening my aunt helped me repot a plant that she helped me originally repot, oddly enough, exactly 52 weeks ago. (Today is Sunday, September 23, 2018, and the first potting took place on Sunday, September 24, 2017. You can read about it here.) We didn’t plan it like this–it just happened. 364 days. Autumn Equinox weekend to Autumn Equinox weekend.

Here’s a picture of the plant a year ago.

Here’s a picture of it now. (Thanks, Aunt!)

It takes time to be born again.

Wow. What a wonderful visible reminder that dramatic change is possible. Of course, I can’t say WHEN exactly the plant got bigger, but it obviously did. There’s a phrase in Latin that says, “Natura non facit saltus,” or, “Nature does not make jumps.” In other words, just as the sun moves gradually from east to west and a plant puts on new leaves at a certain, sometimes undetectable pace, so does one change–slowly. The sun (at the equinoxes) spends twelve hours “in the dark.” Christ was three days in the grave. The phoenix was three days in the ashes. Unfortunately, transformation doesn’t have a drive-thru window. It takes time to be born again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."