This Thing Called Life (Blog #563)

Ten years ago my friends Gregg and Rita helped start The Oklahoma Swing Syndicate, a group that hosts a weekly swing dance in Tulsa, and yesterday was the organization’s anniversary celebration. Ten years–that’s over 500 community dances. Anyway, Gregg and Rita have always supported my dance endeavors, so last night I drove to Tulsa to surprise them. Y’all–talk about a good time. Not only did I get to see Gregg and Rita, but I also got to see a number of dance friends I haven’t seen in years. Plus, I got to see my 96-year-old friend Marina, who absolutely makes my heart melt both on and off the dance floor.

The dance itself lasted until after midnight, and since I’m house sitting for friends this weekend, I drove back to Fort Smith between one and three in the morning. And whereas the entire affair went well, I was exhausted both physically and emotionally by the time I got back. This morning I slept in, which helped, but today has nonetheless continued to be–well–a bitch. This last week presented a number of internal challenges–some of which I wrote about and some of which I didn’t–and I guess they all caught up with me. To put it simply, I’ve been in a foul mood–worried, nervous, tired.

For most of the afternoon, I tried all the tricks I know. I stuck my nose in a book. I tried being grateful. I went for a run. I ate a piece of cake. And whereas it all helped, it didn’t push me over the ledge into The Land of Contentment.

Sometimes you just don’t feel well.

Last October I was in Carbondale, Colorado, for a spiritual retreat of sorts. Exactly one year ago tonight I started feeling poorly. I didn’t write about it that night, but I did write about it the next morning when I woke up with what would turn out to be the beginning of a several-month-long sinus infection. For over a hundred days, I felt like shit. There were good days here and there, of course, but it was honestly the most challenging and emotionally taxing health situation I’ve encountered in all my 38 years. Even after I finally got my sinus issues under control, I got slammed with the flu twice in the span of six weeks (I think). It was one damned thing after another.

During this time, I was fortunate enough to get a new primary care physician, who–over the course of many months–put me through a series of tests, some of which were run by other doctors. And whereas it’s been a bitch of a year, things are MOSTLY figured out. My sinuses are still a little snotty, but I haven’t had a sinus infection in over six months. (I haven’t been able to say this in over twenty years.) Thanks to upping my Vitamin D and B12 and getting more consistent rest, my energy levels are better. Not “perfect,” but better. Recently I worked for ten days straight backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and I never once worried whether or not my body would be able to “make it.” In other words, we’re learning to trust each other.

This is no small thing.

Whenever I blog and am particularly “impressed” with something that makes its way onto the page, I copy that sentence or paragraph and put it in a separate digital notepad with the intent to add it to the “Quotes from CoCo” box you see at the bottom of each post. However, I haven’t added any new quotes to the website in essentially a year. That is, until a few days ago, when I determined to get “caught up.” And whereas it will probably take a week or two to do this, I have started the process. At first, the thought of this task was daunting, but it’s turning out to be a fun, encouraging thing, going back and re-reading the highlights and self-issued hope from this last year. Today I was reminded that “No one is immune from life’s challenges,” “You’re exactly where you need to be,” and “A storm can leave your life just as quickly as it enters it.”

Our struggles unearth our strengths.

I say all this because it’s easy for me to forget how far I’ve come. I have one bad afternoon, and it feels as if I’ve gotten nowhere. But we’ll ALWAYS have bad days and we’ll ALWAYS have challenges–because this is how we grow. If I were designing a universe, I’d come up with a different method for personal improvement, but this is the way it works in this universe. Our struggles unearth our strengths. (I should add that to the quote box.) Also, I think they help us connect with others. All day I tried to get myself out of my own head. I kept telling the universe, “I want to feel better.” Then tonight my friend Marla called out of the blue to discuss a writing matter. And simply because Marla’s Marla–not because she knew I felt bad and needed cheering up–she made me laugh, laugh, laugh.

And just like that, a cloud was lifted.

It seems that this is how the universe works. It answers our prayers and cries for help, but rarely does so in the manner in which we think it should. Usually, there are other people involved. Not that your own intelligence and good graces can’t carry you so far, but when you solve all your own problems, not only do you set yourself up for pride, but you also isolate yourself. My friend Kim says, “We’re made for community,” and this is a lesson I’m learning. This last year has been an amazing journey; I’m the first to admit how much I’ve grown and how much I’ve worked my ass off to do so. But it wouldn’t have been possible without the help and support of my family, friends, my therapist and my doctors, and everyone else with whom I have the privilege of dancing through this thing called life.

For all of you, I’m extremely grateful.

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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Time Well Spent (Blog #200)

9:33 AM

I’ve been awake for an hour or so, and I just finished a continental breakfast here at the glorious Comfort Inn and Suites in Carbondale, Colorado. Check out is in an hour and a half, so I’m about to take a shower, pack up, and hit the road. (It’s been real.) My destination is Albuquerque, where my sister lives, and it should take about eight hours, stops included. Because I’m still feeling yuck, blah, and gross, I imagine it’s going to be a long day. Jesus, take the wheel. Still, at the end of the road will be the ones I love. All things considered, life is good.

If it’s not obvious, I’ll be writing the blog in “installments” today to make my life easier. If you can think of some little something to make your life easier today, do it–you have my full support.

4:12 PM

I think I just set a new personal record. I drove for five and a half hours without a pit stop. I didn’t realize that was possible, so I’m considering nicknaming my bladder Champ. Who knows why the sudden change in behavior? Usually I pee constantly. Maybe my kidneys got enlightened this weekend, or maybe I’m just dehydrated.

The drive so far has been surreal. For whatever reason, my mind is at ease, and my usual sense of nervousness is nowhere to be found. Even when driving along narrow roadways with steep drop-offs, I was like, Whatever. I’ve only taken one picture (at a stoplight in Aspen), but the scenery has been gorgeous–Colorado and New Mexico in the fall are basically God’s backyard. Anyway, I’m in road-warrior mode and ready to see my nephews, so I’ll write more later.

8:08 PM

I got to my sister’s a couple of hours ago. When I arrived, the nephews started bouncing off the walls, and even Ander (the younger one), who usually hides from me, went nuts. They were skipping, jumping, leading me outside then back in. Eventually I sat down for dinner (thanks, Dee-Anne) and visited with my sister and her husband while Ander scooted across the kitchen floor on his back and repeatedly said, “Ow, ow, ow.” My brother-in-law said, “Imagine this non-stop for seven years.” I said, “I can’t.”

Seriously, how do parents do it? Well, how do parents who don’t drink do it?

Before Christopher (the older nephew) went to bed, he put a craft book on the table and asked me to help him make a paper airplane.  Seriously, this kid is great with building and making things, so he probably could have done it himself, but I guess this was an “advanced” model. Y’all, uncle-ing is hard. The instructions had like ten steps–the plane had a tail fin and everything. It was super detailed, complicated actually, and a couple times I thought, I can’t figure this out. But then I did–it finally came together. What’s more, it flew!

That’s right, I’m thirty-seven and can make a paper airplane.

But get this shit. Christopher–that little turd–ran straight to my sister and said, “Mom–I made an airplane!”

(Awkward pause)

“Well, I helped make one.”

9:40 PM

We always have more support than we realize.

For the last hour I’ve been chatting with my sister, but she just went to bed because she’s a mom. Anyway, I really like her. We talked about our family, school, and our individual responses to some of the bullshit we went through as children–specifically the fact that she expressed her emotions back then and I stuffed mine way, way down. (It’s okay, they’ve been working their way back up–like they do.) Since Dee-Anne lives so far away and most of my healing progress has happened the last few years, sometimes I forget that she went through a lot of the same stuff I did. Of course, it’s always good to remember that you’re not alone. We always have more support than we realize.

10:08 PM

A couple hours ago I realized that today’s blog is number 200. That’s 200 days in a row of sitting down, more than once propping my eyelids open with toothpicks, and opening my mind and heart for both me and the world to see. The goal is every day for a year, and I recently hit the halfway mark (183 days), but I note it on the blog every fifty days if I remember. So that’s why we’re talking about it now.

When I started this blog over six months ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Since I’ve been living back at home, I was originally going to call the blog Me and My Parents, then Me, My Parents, and My Therapist. But I thought, Surely I’ll move out again one day, so I dropped my parents altogether (but just from the blog). Anyway, as I’m writing about the blog now, it makes me want to cry. Maybe that’s because I’ve come to think of it as a friend. We have all these memories together. Each night we cuddle up together, I talk about my day, and the blog listens, wraps me up in its arms, and tells me I’m okay.

I’ve said it before, but I can’t overemphasize what a positive journey this has been. I’m out of work, living with my parents, and really have no idea what the rest of my life will hold. On the surface, I don’t have a lot to show. But beneath the surface, where it counts, I’m better than I ever have been. I’m less afraid and more sure than ever before. I’m more self-confident, comfortable in my own skin. I’m not perfect, of course, but I own my shit and am either working on it or okay with saying, “I’m fine the way I am.” The reason I want to cry, of course, is because I realize it’s not the blog that’s been my friend these last 200 days–it’s me–I’m the one who’s been there for me.

10:31 PM

At the spiritual retreat this last weekend, the teacher was joking about how people approach their spiritual lives, like, “Oh yeah, I’ve got a few free hours between errands today, I’ll check out that meditation thing.” This attitude, of course, is ridiculous. After all, he said, what’s more important than your freedom?

Learning to be there for yourself is the essence of healing.

I’ve thought about this question off and on today. I know I’ve worried a lot this last year about how I’m going to make a living or what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but when I consider how much freer, happier, and peaceful I am now as compared to six months ago, all that “worldly stuff” pales in comparison. I’m not saying this process has been easy. On the contrary, there have been plenty of days that it’s felt like making a complicated paper airplane and letting someone else take the credit for it. Often the road has been long, and I haven’t felt so great. Still, I’d recommend the journey to anyone. For surely learning to be there for yourself is the essence of healing, and making time to be your own friend is time well spent. And here’s what I can promise–at the end of the road will be the ones you love (and that includes you), and things will finally come together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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Nothing Belongs to Me (Blog #198)

Currently I’m in Carbondale, Colorado, at a place called True Nature Healing Arts. If you’ve ever been to a new age bookstore, organic smoothie bar, or upscale yoga center, this place is all of those things combined then multiplied by the third chakra. For sale, there are crystals of every color, mala beads, statues of deities–incense, of course–and t-shirts made from hemp fiber (half off). I’m making jokes because it’s one big, new-age/spiritual stereotype, but this is honestly the most warm, beautiful, and professional place of this type I’ve ever been to. (And I’ve been to a few of them.) Because everything is “just so,” I’m assuming a Virgo was involved in putting it all together.

The event I’m attending here started last night, and we just wrapped up the morning session and are on lunch break. I ate organic lamb curry, am sipping hot matcha tea, and am about to reach for an apple inside my bag. I feel so healthy I can’t stand myself. Granted, my insides are in shock, but I fed them Mexican food last night, so they’ll get over it. We’ve got two more sessions to go before the day is over, so I’m trying to knock out some blogging before I have a spiritual experience and–I don’t know–forget how to cuss or put a damn sentence together. (Obviously that hasn’t happened yet.)

I read somewhere that often spiritual disciplines simply become other ways of beating ourselves up. Like, if you feel like a piece of shit because you’ve recently gone up a pant size and then you join a yoga class to de-stress and drop a few pounds, you’ll probably end up feeling even more like a piece of shit because now you’re fat and can’t do downward-facing dog as well as that hot guy in the corner. (You know–the one with the really tight, spiritual stretch pants.) Well, just now I heard a man talking about his personal flotation chamber, which is sort of like a bathtub filled with Himalayan sea salt that helps desensitize the body and quiet the mind (I think). Anyway, part of me is thinking, He has a fancy woo-woo thing. I wonder if that makes him a better person than I am. But now he’s talking about dowsing, like how you walk around with a forked stick and wait for it to fall wherever there’s water, oil, or gold, and it’s all I can do to not roll my eyes. So maybe I’m a better person than he is.

I just put in my headphones and turned on my music so I’ll stop comparing myself to a total stranger.

Because I dragged my feet getting in the lunch line, there weren’t any tables left where I could sit and eat–at least without asking if I could sit down with someone I don’t know. (I don’t know anyone here. Well, I did meet one lovely lady named Wing–as in, and a prayer–in line for the bathroom. I’m assuming our bladders are on the same schedule, since we’ve chatted more than once.) Anyway, sometimes I feel bold and friendly, and other times, I’m all, Fuck that–I can take care of myself. I don’t need you and your–your–table space. Well, I ended up eating outside, and it was cold as a well-digger’s ass. That part wasn’t so bad, but the wind almost blew my table over. It actually turned the giant umbrella above me inside out. At that point, I finished my food, came inside, and sat down in a lone chair by a meditation corner. Then a girl who had a table all to herself asked if I wanted to join her. My knee-jerk reaction was to say, “No, thank you, I don’t need your charity,” but instead I paused and said, “Yes, yes I would.”

So that’s where I am now–across from Emily and her table. I’m trying not to stare, but I’m also trying to stare. You know how it’s fun to people watch. Well, so far I’ve noticed that Emily has a wedding ring, likes frothy tea or coffee, and has a laptop with a bigger screen than mine. She has a notebook beside her in which she’s drawn several hearts. Or someone has. I really (really) want to ask her what she’s working on just two feet away from me, but if she asked me the same question, I’d either have to lie or say, “Oh, just writing–about you–on the internet.” Jokes aside, I guess I could say, “Being grateful for an act of kindness I received today.”

Gotta go back to class.

Now it’s dinner time, and I’m eating at a restaurant called The Goat. I just had a mushroom and swiss burger that was delicious, and I think it had bacon on it. I haven’t blogged about it before, but I’m really not a bacon eater because I used to think pork was sin. I don’t think it’s a sin anymore, but sometimes it bothers my stomach, so I rarely eat it on purpose. When I do eat it, I usually freak out, like, What if I have the runs later? Still, what do yo do? In my case, I just ordered “warm chocolate cake” and coffee and tried to forget about it. Either way, what’s done is done. Things show up–fears, desires, experiences–then disappear, just like this dessert is about to.

I’m intentionally not saying much about the workshop I’m attending this weekend. For one, it’s pretty heavy stuff (my brain is tired and still digesting). At this point, I don’t think I could easily distill it down into blog form, make it understandable, and do it justice. For another, it feels personal. Maybe sacred is a better word. There’s a story about a journalist who waited years for a one-on-one interview with Padre Pio, the saint. When the big day arrived, he attended a group mass with Padre Pio, then canceled the interview. When asked why, he said, “I realized that man has the power to change my life, and I’m not ready for that to happen.” So that’s part of why I’m not running to the internet with a book report of what I’m learning. I want to share, of course, but this feels like it could be a game changer, so it’s something I want to treat with respect.

All that being said, I will say that one of the ideas I’ve been presented with this weekend is that nothing–no object–belongs to me. Having sold most of everything I used to “own,” I’m open to this way of thinking. But here’s the kicker–objects not only include physical items like my knickknacks and jewelry, but also include my body, thoughts, emotions, and experiences. This is because all these things were either given to me or simply appeared–only to disappear, of course. They aren’t permanent or things I can hold on to. The benefit to seeing all these things as borrowed is that I suffer less when something breaks, gets sick, or changes in some way. In short, I’m more free.

As I see it, another benefit to this way of thinking is that I don’t have to compare so much. After all, if everything I have is borrowed, then everything everyone else has is borrowed too. I can feel insecure that some guy has had an experience I haven’t, but that experience isn’t really his, especially once it’s over. This fact, I think, levels the playing field and makes us more alike. More than being our comparisons, our tight pants, or the bacon we accidentally ate, we’re really just all people looking for a place to sit. What’s more, no object, thing, or experience can add or subtract from our inherent value. Thankfully, our essence, our true nature, actually is ours, and I like to think it’s been there all along, just waiting for us to pull up a chair and get curious about it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Anything and everything is possible.

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