Today’s blog is #999 in a row, and I can’t tell you how excited I am about it. For one thing, I’m one post away from 1,000. (Two including this one.) For another, it’s Christmas Eve. For another, my favorite number is 9, so this blog seems–I don’t know–sacred or something. Maybe I should call it The Holy Trinity of Nines. Regardless, although it’s just one in the grand scheme of things, it feels special.
Okay, hang on, I know what it is.
999 days ago I started this project, and at some point decided I wanted to write for at least a thousand consecutive days. (Later I upped the goal to every day for three years, which is an additional three months, but I’m considering anything after tomorrow “a bonus post.”) Anyway, for 999 days in a row I’ve written. Even when I’ve been dog tired, sick with a sinus infection, miserable with a headache, or burning up with the flu. Even on the day I was in a car accident. Even after I tore my ACL. My point being that–to be clear–there have been hundreds of days I didn’t WANT to blog or spill my guts on the internet. Hundreds of days I didn’t know if I had it in me. Because God knows I’ve set goals before and didn’t stick with them. Yes, I know what I’m feeling.
I’m feeling like–WOW–I’m going to make it.
Earlier today I heard Caroline Myss say that if you want to heal or improve your life in some way, JUST DO SOMETHING CONSISTENTLY. It doesn’t have to be complicated, she said. Stop wearing your least favorite color–forever. Go for a fifteen minute walk–every day. Her point being that any action consistently taken (read: any discipline) will force you to confront not only your saboteur, but also every other part of you that doesn’t want to heal, grow up, and change. Like your inner child (who will throw tantrums), your perfectionist (who will insist whatever you’re doing isn’t good enough), and your control freak (who will want to manage how others perceive you and your project), to name a few.
Notice that addictions, which are also consistent actions and address our inner need for congruency, likewise address these points. However, they do so unconsciously, not consciously.
In my experience with this blog, this wisdom about consistency is spot on. Indeed, many of the categories or themes that have developed here, I believe, are ones that any person undertaking a regular discipline will encounter. Things like balance, boundaries, patience, self-acceptance, and transformation. Take balance and boundaries, for example. Earlier tonight some friends had me over for dinner and invited me to stay late to watch a movie while they stuffed stockings for their kiddos. And whereas I would have loved to have lingered and continued to stuff my face with Fritos and cheese dip, I knew I had this blog to tend to.
So I said, “Thank you, but I can’t.”
This is what I’d recommend to anyone working on a goal–make no exceptions. Now, I’m not talking about your typical goals. I want to lose fifteen pounds or whatever. Especially if all you want to do is stop eating cheesecake. In that case, have a cheat day. But if the real point of your goal is deal with your crap, get in touch with your soul and spirit, and find out what you’re really made of, THEN I suggest making no exceptions. Then I suggest being an absolute hard ass with yourself.
If you do decide to be a hard ass with yourself–about anything–my guess is you’ll uncover a part of yourself you didn’t know was there before. Personally, blogging every day, every damn day has taught me that not only am I stronger and braver than I realized, but I’m also more honest and open-hearted than I realized. Since I started this project, a number of people have said, “I could never be that honest, especially on the internet.” Even my therapist has said, “You’ve clearly got really big balls.” And whereas I don’t know about all that, I do know that if I can be strong and brave and honest and open-hearted, anyone can. Because it’s not THAT hard. Yes, it’s hard. It’s scary and terrifying and exhausting and hard.
But it’s not THAT hard.
What I mean is that it’s not impossible. Whatever it is you’re scared of–and anything you’re scared of counts, even if other people don’t think it’s a big deal–humans have been facing their fears and slaying their dragons for centuries. My point being that you’re not alone. Knowing this–that it’s POSSIBLE to transform yourself for the better through the practice of a consistent discipline–the question becomes, why wouldn’t you? A thousand days ago I would have pulled out my favorite excuses. I can’t. I’m not good enough. I’ll fail. I’ll embarrass myself. Someone else is already doing it better. But having come this far, I now know these are just lies, stories. So if the answer to “Why won’t you do something to improve your life?” is that you simply like the stories you tell yourself about who you are and what you’re not capable of, fine. That in itself is some level of honesty. But don’t expect me to believe your excuses just because you do.
Because I know from experience–all of us are capable of WAY MORE than we think we are.
This is one of the greatest gifts my therapist has given me–she’s staunchly refused to believe my excuses. No matter how many times I’ve campaigned for them, she’s never voted for my limitations. Now, she’s honest. “You’re almost forty,” she says. “I don’t think you should be an Olympic gymnast.” Still, within reason, she’s never stopped rooting for me. With respect to my talents, career, and relationships, she’s always been in my corner. The result being that–between her and this discipline–I’ve gotten back something I didn’t know I’d lost–myself.
Also, I’ve learned how to hope again.
Last year for the Winter Solstice I blogged about how, from the Summer Solstice until the Winter Solstice, the sun rises and sets more and more toward the south in the northern hemisphere. (This is the cause of our progressively shorter days from late June to late December). However, for three days, from December 22 (the typical date of the Winter Solstice) until December 25, the sun appears to stop moving toward the south OR the north. To the ancients, this was terrifying because they thought the sun had died.
Don’t worry. The good news is coming.
On December 24 at midnight (ish)–and you can check this for yourself–you can follow the three stars in Orion’s Belt (sometimes referred to as The Three Kings) to Sirius (the brightest star in the sky), and they’ll point the way the eastern horizon. There you’ll find Virgo, The Virgin. (See above.) Overhead you’ll find The Beehive Cluster (not labeled), sometimes referred to as The Manger. Next to it, Cancer, whose two brightest stars are often called The Two Asses. Six hours later, The Manger and The Two Asses will be on the western horizon, The Virgin will be straight overhead, and the sun will be rising not just on the eastern horizon, but also toward the north. (See below.)
Hooray! The sun didn’t die.
For as long as we can remember, men and women have feared. We’ve watched our days get shorter and shorter and felt our nights get colder and colder. We’ve thought, We can’t do this. We’re not going to make it. Our hope is gone. And yet we’ve consistently persisted. We’ve kept at it, hung on. And time and time again, right out of our darkest night, the light has reappeared. The light reappears. From Christmas until the Summer Solstice, our days get longer and longer, brighter and brighter. This is a universal law. It’s written in the stars. Just when we least expect it, things start to turn around. Life comes flooding back. Letting out a sigh, we think, I’m going make it.
Phew. It’s two in the morning, and I’ve been going all day. This morning and afternoon I went antiquing/craft shopping, mostly hunting for inspiration. The last two days I’ve talked about mounting vintage brooches on old book covers, and I’ve gotten absolutely obsessed with the idea that you can use books for something other than reading. Talk about a novel idea. (Get it, novel?) Granted, I’ve used books for decoration before, but I’ve never cut them up strictly for parts until yesterday. This afternoon at a thrift store I rifled through a stack of books and judged them solely by their covers. I can’t tell you how good it felt.
No reading required.
Walking away from the thrift store with the above stack of pretty books, my mind raced with creative options. I thought, I could do this, I could do that. Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming, somewhat like staring at the menu at The Cheesecake Factory. Seriously, too many options! But this is life. Whether we’re crafting, writing, or picking out what to eat for dinner, we could go in a thousand directions. And whereas I tend to take decision-making rather seriously (like, What if I don’t choose the right thing?), I really think it’s meant to be more playful than profound. I mean, yes, even seemingly trivial choices have consequences. But if your following you heart, being kind, and having fun, I’m not sure you can go wrong.
Looking back at nearly a thousand days of blogging, I KNOW I haven’t always said or done the “right” or ideal thing. But here’s something I absolutely know to true–it’s better to create imperfectly than to not create at all.
This evening I babysat two boys, and we (well, me and one of the boys) played Fort Smith Opoly, our town’s nod to the famous (or is it infamous?) Monopoly board game. Y’all, I thought we’d be done super-quick, but the game went on for over two hours. We didn’t even get to finish; the boys had to go to bed. That being said, when we did wrap up I was kicking my opponent’s little rear end. He had two thousand dollars, and I had seven.
But don’t go asking me for a loan for your creative projects. You can’t spend Fort Smith Opoly money at Hobby Lobby.
It’s fake.
Recently I heard Caroline Myss say something like, “Think of all the wonderful things that have happened in your life–you didn’t plan any of them. Now think all the disasters in your life–you planned all of them.” Oh my gosh, y’all, I laughed out loud. How true. Every mentor or true-blue friend I’ve ever has been someone who just “showed up.” You know, randomly. Conversely, most every thorn in my flesh has been someone I saw and thought, I really need to get to know them. The idea being that it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to trust our own wisdom a little less and the wisdom of the gods a little more.
The idea being that they’re on our side and want good things for us.
For me what’s difficult about trusting heaven is that I’m not in control. Now, I KNOW I’m not in control, but one of the reasons I like to obsess over every little detail of creative projects is because it makes me FEEL like I am. This is all an illusion. (Give it up, Nancy.) I can brag about winning Fort Smith Opoly tonight, but if we’d ended the game thirty minutes earlier I wouldn’t have had even a hundred dollars because THREE times I rolled the dice and had to pay my little friend $2,000 when I landed on Downtown Fort Smith, which he owned and had developed to the enth degree. My point being that both my bad fortune and my good fortune were largely out of my hands, left to the roll of the dice. Left up to heaven. (Pause.) More and more I’m seeing whatever heaven sends my way as more than enough, better than I could plan for. So long as I get to play the game (of Fort Smith Opoly, of life), I’m content. So long as I get to create, I’m happy.
This dog, however, is apparently only happy when he’s hoarding five-hundred-dollar bills.
This morning I saw my therapist and, in the midst of going through my list of things to talk about, got derailed. Even though I hadn’t planned on discussing it, I jumped on a tangent about this blog and how it’s coming to a close. (I only have 22 blogs including this one until 1,000, then 13 weeks and 6 days until THE END). “I feel like I’m entering lame-duck territory,” I said. “It’s scary. This project has been such a touchstone and healing force in my life, and I have no idea what’s coming next. I’m flailing.”
My therapist said she understood how intimidating transitions can be, AND that even if I don’t continue to blog here daily, I’ve planted A LOT of seeds. “Any number of other projects could EASILY grow out of what you’ve started,” she said. “For example, a book.” Oh my gosh, y’all, when I think about all the things I could do with what I’ve learned thanks to this blog, my mind absolutely flies. I could go on for days, in any number of formats, about how this discipline has turned my life around and upside down for the better. Recently my mom told me that although all my posts are good (thanks, Mom), they’ve really been “exceptional” lately. “You’re in the groove,” she said. “Your writing is seamless. The blog’s done for you what you wanted it to.” That is to say, it’s given me a successful writing practice. Even more, it’s given me myself.
This, of course, has been worth all the effort, time, and money spent.
I guess I’m afraid that when my last “in a row” blog is posted I’ll somehow lose everything I’ve gained. There’s a certain sadness, a heaviness that’s been stalking me, a grief I often feel when I return home from a fabulous vacation. It says, “Crap, the show is over. What now?” It says, “What if we never feel that way again?” At the same time, there’s a certain high, a sense of pride that says, “Hot damn, we did it. Not matter what happens from this point forward, we did it. Nobody can ever take that away.” Perhaps this mix of emotions is what newlyweds feel when the honeymoon is over and people start asking when in god’s name they’re going to begin popping out children. Everyone’s so focused on what’s going to happen after. It’s so difficult to be right here, right now, to sit with whatever arises–excitement, wonder, despair, confusion–on the first day, on the last day.
In Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino’s character sings, “Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay?” I totally get this “I want to hold on but also want to let go” feeling. Despite my deep affection for this project, as I imagine reaching 1,000 and, at the end of March, 1,095 posts, I picture an enormous weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Y’all, this daily-writing and baring-my-soul-on-the-internet bullshit has been and continues to be my choice, and, as I’ve said ad nauseam, it’s all too often exhausting. As these last three years have played host to the the most challenging health crises I’ve ever face, there have been days when life has simply been “too much” and the last thing I wanted to do was take to the web and be honest. Because it’s always easier to run and hide. This being said, I don’t recommend running and hiding. For one thing, there’s nowhere to go.
For another, you’ve gotta meet yourself sooner or later. After all, you’re with yourself all the time. You’re the one you wake up with, the one who tucks you in at night.
People say it’s the journey, not the destination. As a goal-oriented, results-focused person, I hate this. But it’s true. Since starting this project I’ve often fantasized about having so many readers or–I should be so lucky–a certain amount of monetary compensation for my efforts. (Any would be nice). Still, there are bloggers with millions of readers and authors with millions of dollars who nonetheless feel like they haven’t arrived. But how could they–how could any of us–get “there”? Again, there’s nowhere to go. There’s only “here.”
This afternoon I listened to a fabulous talk by Caroline Myss about Alice in Wonderland, and one of my takeaways was that the point of any hero’s or heroine’s journey is changing your inner world, not your outer one. The mystical and ironic consequence of changing your inner world being that–surprise!–your outer world changes too. It has to. At the very least it will look different than it did before (less scary, more manageable, ever so much more enchanting), and this is the same thing. Perception determines your experience of reality.
Along these lines, since we use words to frame our experiences, Caroline suggests flipping your language script. For example, instead of thinking of my health issues as Problems or Challenges, I could–and often do–think of them as Opportunities (to learn about myself, heal, and connect with others), Adventures (who knows what will happen next!), or Initiations (into the Greater Mysteries of life). I’ve often blogged about Going Down the Rabbit Hole, and this is what I’m talking about. Any Hero’s Journey that’s worth it salt will turn everything in your life upside down, including the way you think and talk about your experiences. This doesn’t happen because the universe is bored and feels like shaking up your life the way a toddler shakes up a snow globe. Rather, it happens because, from your soul’s perspective, your world’s been wrong-side up for a while now and it’s simply time to set things right-side up. This looks and feels like Chaos to you and me, a falling apart, but to the gods–well–it’s a Grace, a putting things back together. Our endings are our beginnings.
According to Caroline Myss, life is about power. To help people become aware of their own power, she often asks audience members, “Do you want my magic marker?” Of course, no one does. Think about it. Unless you have a strange fetish for Sharpies, it’s like, Whatever, lady, I don’t need your pen. I’m just fine without it. “THAT’S how you SHOULD feel when something has NO POWER over you,” she says.
Conversely, we all know what it feels like when something–or someone–HAS power over us. Yesterday I blogged about my being jealous of or wanting approval from other (in my opinion, better) swing dancers, and this is what I’m talking about, that feeling that you NEED something from someone else. If you personally don’t give a shit what some Lindy Hop guru thinks of you, good. Also, this illustrates that someone could easily HOLD POWER over me but BE A MAGIC MARKER to you. Still, even if this is the case, I guarantee there’s SOMETHING or SOMEONE you want something from, something or someone who pulls you out of your authenticity. Because that’s the deal. When you GIVE your power away to someone else, you quite literally give part of your life to them to manage for you. In the extremes this looks like being someone else’s whipping boy, bitch, or puppet, which is what the story of Pinocchio is about. At first anyone could make him do anything, but the more he listened to HIS conscience, the more REAL he became and the less others could control him.
Along these lines, how many times have you said, “I can’t, you decide”? Or, “What do YOU think I should do?”? I’m not saying it’s the end of the world to ask someone else’s opinion or advice, but when someone else says jump and you start hopping, that’s a problem. Here’s another, more specific way to dig into this. If you were going to move, change jobs, start a relationship, or, hell, go out to dinner tomorrow, whose approval would you need first? You might think this is a ridiculous question, and on one level it is. You shouldn’t need ANYONE’S approval to go to the International House of Pancakes. But on another level, we all know people who stay in miserable towns, jobs, and marriages because they’re afraid of disappointing their parents, spouses, friends, or god.
Recently I blogged about how one person can influence another (and to be clear, that influence can be positive just as well as negative), and used the example of a man my dad met in prison who introduced our family to the Old Testament Law. And whereas I could go on for days about how our lives changed thanks to this introduction, the long and the short of it is I stopped eating bacon. In terms of tonight’s conversation, I now see that I’d given my power away. Specifically, I gave up my POWER TO CHOOSE between a roast beef and ham sandwich. Instead, I let someone else (my dad’s friend, my dad, the Old Testament, God) do that for me. I did this because, as I told my chiropractor who deals with emotions today, “I was AFRAID God was going to WAX MY ASS if I didn’t obey him.”
“Wax your ass?” he said. “Now THAT would be an interesting sensation.”
At which point we both laughed.
Because this has been on my mind so much lately and because I think this is hugely important, here’s ANOTHER way to look at this issue of power. This afternoon I went to the Fort Smith Public Library for their annual rare and vintage book sale. (Y’all know I love a good book with an attractive cover.) Well, right off the bat I noticed an old set of eight illustrated books about the human body–the circulatory system, the nervous system, etc. And whereas I’m not a doctor or a biologist, I got sucked right in. The drawings are so pretty, I thought. The covers are gorgeous–pristine. And all for $35. But then I thought, You have no NEED for these, Marcus. And don’t kid yourself–you’re NEVER going to read them. So I put them down like a hot potato, browsed around the room, and ultimately walked away empty handed.
But of course I had my $35.
My point in telling this story is that we all know that googly-eyed feeling of being drawn in by a pretty object or person. This is what it feels like when your power LEAVES YOU. Again, I’m not saying it’s bad to desire something (it’s kind of fun actually), but I am saying–let’s be clear–anytime you start acting like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (I WANTS IT), you’re under a spell. If you get the thing–or person–home later and have buyer’s remorse, maybe you didn’t completely give away your power car, but you definitely gave up the wheel for a while.
My therapist says the natural state of the universe is neutral, and more and more neutrality is my goal. This looks like me being real middle-of-the-road about how much money I have, whether or not other people like me or want to take me to bed, and how the rest of the world perceives me. I have a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous who says that when thinking about people who have absolutely done you wrong, you don’t want to seething-hate them, but you don’t want to squishy-love them either. “Your goal is indifference,” they say. This is the same thing as being neutral.
You WANT them to be a magic marker.
If being indifferent sounds cold, maybe it is. My therapist says when it comes to money, she has ice water running through her veins. But what this really means is that she’s NOT ATTACHED to money or the things it can buy. That is, they have NO POWER over her. Consequently, she’s a badass business woman. So she can walk into a car dealership and, even if she adores a certain vehicle, if the price isn’t right, she can walk away. This is the gift of indifference. This is what neutrality really is, being empowered enough to not feel like you HAVE to buy the thing, take the miserable job, or do what someone else wants. It’s having YOUR power, YOUR spirit, at home in YOUR body and NOT somewhere else.
Okay, let’s just get right to it. This last weekend I felt like hell. Saturday I had a headache all day, and yesterday my neck hurt, my shoulder felt hot, and my lower back was locked up. This morning when I stumbled out of bed I felt every bit of my thirty-nine years and then some. And whereas I realize this could be read as complaining, it’s simply the truth.
These are the facts.
Whenever I feel this way (like a bag of ass), it’s extremely frustrating because despite my best efforts, not only are my physical problems continuing, they’re apparently getting worse. Month by month and year by year it seems there’s SOMETHING ELSE that’s not quite working right. Last summer my stomach started acting up. Since then, I haven’t been able to breathe as well. For a while now my ribs have felt constricted. Every time I breathe deeply, they hurt or my shoulder does. I’ve talked to multiple medical doctors, chiropractors, physical and massage therapists, and acupuncturists, but no one’s been able to help me significantly. The most recent medical doctor I asked about headaches said, “Posture has a lot to do with that.” And whereas I don’t disagree with that statement, no amount of posture correction techniques, including physical therapy exercises, yoga, pilates, stretching, bioenergectis, myofascial release, and chi kung, have changed my condition. I try and try to get my body to stand straight and “do right,” but I’m still in pain. One chiropractor–a doctor and self-professed “really smart” man–told me, “You’re an anomaly.”
He still took my money, of course.
I could go on and on about this topic and know I have in the past. Suffice it to say that it’s VERY DISHEARTENING to not only be faced with a physical challenge, but also to do everything you know to do to find an answer (talk to experts, read a ton of books, pray) and still come up with peanuts. Personally my biggest challenges have been sinus infections and headaches, and I know that they’ve often left me feeling quite hopeless. Indeed, there have been times that I’ve cried out to whoever’s listening up there for help and felt like I was totally ignored or–worse–completely unloved. Tylenol takes the edge off my headaches, but nothing takes the edge off this, the feeling like you’re all alone in the universe, that God’s left you twisting in the wind.
Recently I heard that a prayer heaven always answers is one that sounds like this. Dear God, I don’t care what it takes or how you turn my life upside down, but get me out of this pattern (of illness, of unhealthy relationships, etc.) Well, this is a bold prayer, of course, since you’re giving the gods permission to do what they want with your life, but–let’s face–they’re going to anyway. So you better bet I’ve been praying that prayer. Help, Lord, I want out.
I wish I could tell you that I’ve had unshakable faith that my prayer would be answered. And yes, I know that “no” and “not now” are valid answers from heaven. Sometimes we simply don’t get what we want. Sometimes, especially when it comes to physical problems, we don’t get relief until we die. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Will I simply have to suffer with this until I kick the bucket? If so, am I strong enough to do that? Because one day of solid pain is bearable, but day after day for decades? I can’t imagine. That’s one positive thing that’s come out of my hurting these last few years. For the rest of my life, I’ll hold increased compassion for anyone who feels like they’re up against a wall and getting nowhere. If this is you, I understand. My heart goes out to you.
Also, hold on. Your story’s not over.
One thing I say a lot is that God works in mysterious ways. Well, get this shit. Several weeks ago I posted about ANOTHER sinus problem I was having, and a friend of mine (whom I met through dance nearly twenty years ago and only this year reconnected with) said she used to be in the same boat but that something called Upper Cervical Care had helped. “I don’t remember the last time I had an infection,” she said. Well, for all my talking to experts and reading constantly, I’d never heard of upper cervical care, so I started digging around and found a doctor in Northwest Arkansas–Dr. Jackson Chism–who’s one of the three people in the state who practices it.
While reading the reviews on Dr. Chism’s Facebook page, I began to cry. (This is usually my intuition’s way of letting me know that what I’m hearing is true.) People were saying they’d suffered from headaches, migraines, and fibromyalgia for years and had seen vast improvements if not complete remission of symptoms. Hopeful, I told myself I would go by his office the next time I was in Northwest Arkansas. However, weeks went by and I didn’t stop by or call. I do this sometimes, put off trying something that could help because I’ve tried SO MANY OTHER THINGS that haven’t helped and don’t want to be disappointed AGAIN. Because–if this doesn’t work, then what?
One thing I’ve been looking into and have mentioned here before is a posture and movement correction program I heard about online. Seriously, it seems really smart, really legit, the main idea being that a lot of our posture problems are caused from the BOTTOM UP. Like, we sit all day, which shortens our hip flexors, which tilts our pelvis, which causes our back to sway, which rounds our shoulders, juts our head forward, and so on. Anyway, if I had the money, I’d be on a plane tomorrow to work with one of the trainers who promotes this program. (No one does it around here.) This is part of my frustration. Like, I don’t have the money, don’t have the resources to take care of myself.
However.
Recently I’ve been going through a series by Caroline Myss and Jim Curtan about the symbology of The Wizard of Oz, and one thing it says is that Dorothy’s dog’s name in Latin (Toto) means “everything,” the idea being that from the start of her journey until its very end, Dorothy always has EVERYTHING she needs. When she clicks her heels together three times and teleports back to Kansas, Glinda the Good Witch tells her, “You could have done this all along.” So I’ve been reconsidering the notion that I need more money or need to leave the state in order to heal. I’ve been thinking, Maybe the answer’s right here.
Getting back to upper cervical care, a couple weeks ago I finally called Dr. Chism’s office. As “luck” would have it, not only was he taking new patients, but he was also running a special–x-rays with consultations before and after for under $40. “Let’s do it,” I said.
Last Monday was my appointment. I met Dr. Chism, he explained what he does (I’ll get to that part below), then he took x-rays, saying that he never makes adjustments without knowing what he’s working on first. “It’s possible I’ll look at your x-rays and determine that I can’t help you,” he said. “If that’s the case, we’d be wasting my time and yours to go any further.” Then we scheduled my next appointment.
For this afternoon.
For the last week I’ve been cautiously optimistic. Dr. Chism explained that at the base of our skull sits something called an atlas, the first “disc” of your spinal column. Then he put his thumb and first finger together and dropped a pen down the middle. “Through your atlas runs a bundle of nerves that control most everything else in your body,” he said. “But if your atlas shifts because of a car accident or something, it can pinch those nerves and cause all sorts of problems. [This is why upper cervical care can help sinus infections, apparently, because your nervous system influences your immune system.] Additionally, that shift can cause your head to lean one way or the other, and then your body will lift a shoulder or tilt a hip in order to correct the problem.” Still, despite this explanation making sense to me, again, I felt like crap all weekend and thought, I’m probably just throwing money down the drain. I’m broken. God doesn’t care, and no one can fix me.
I actually thought that this morning on my way to a meeting. But no kidding, just as I finished whining, I turned my head and noticed one of the many inspirational yard signs that have recently sprouted up around town. “Don’t give up,” it said. Then, when I arrived at Dr. Chism’s this afternoon, the lyrics of the first song that came on when I sat down in the waiting room said, “Don’t you give up on a miracle. You gotta speak to the impossible.” And whereas I’m normally turned off by offices that play “churchy” music, I took this as a direct encouragement from above.
Hold on. Your story’s not over.
The first thing Dr. Chism did with me today was go over my x-rays, which are just below. On the left you can see where the vertebrae in my neck are. The red curve, Dr. Chism explained, is where they’re supposed to be. “Ideally the top vertebrae is over the bottom one, and the ones in between curve like a banana,” he said. “Yours is straight as a board.” I said, “It feels stiff as a board.”
Other doctors have pointed out the fact that my vertebrae show signs of deterioration and bone spur calcification, but no one else has adequately explained why. “If your discs were deteriorating because of age [which other doctors have said], they’d all look the same because they’re the same age,” Dr. Chism said. “But some of yours are better than others.” Then he explained that my discs were showing signs of wear because my head is forward of my body, and my structure is trying desperately to support itself. “For every inch your head is forward, it adds ten pounds. So a ten pound head becomes a twenty or thirty pound one,” he said. “That’s why your body’s laying down new bone, in order to shore itself up.” Then he pointed to the base of my skull (where I experience the worst of my headaches) and said, “One consequence of all this is that these muscles will always be tight.”
Check.
Next we talked about my atlas, the vertebrae that’s the focus of upper cervical care. Apparently the ideal situation is for the atlas to be titled at 8 to 10 degrees, but Dr. Chism said mine was at 3.4. “The problem is that this pinches nerves and–worse–cuts off blood supply to the brain. So you might feet tired all the time [check] or begin to experience neurological symptoms [check: tremors].” We talked about the BOTTOM UP theory, but Dr. Chism said, “For you, I can definitely say the problem is TOP DOWN. Your body cares more about getting blood to your brain than it does about whether or not your hip flexors are short.”
When I asked WHY most of my issues show up on the right side of my body, Dr. Chism directed me the right x-ray, in which you can see a definite “kink” in my neck. My reaction to this and our ENTIRE conversation was consistent tears. It was like my body was confirming, “What this man’s saying is true. THIS is what we’ve been living with for years, for decades.”
“The good news,” Dr. Chism said, “is that THIS is what I do. You’ve got a lot going on, but it hasn’t progressed to the point where it’s irreversible [as would be the case if my bone spurs had actually FUSED my vertebrae together].” Then he asked if I WANTED a treatment today, and I said YES, HELL, YES. From there he walked me through getting on my knees, lying my head turned one way on a small table (about the height of an ottoman), and relaxing as much as possible. Then he felt for my atlas, placed one hand karate-chop style along the base of my skull, and with the other (I think) applied swift pressure. Inside, I heard what sounded like the cracking of a large walnut.
“I heard that,” Dr. Chism said. “They probably heard it next door.”
Y’all, that was it. Five seconds and it was over. When I got up (slowly), I was a little dizzy, and Dr. Chism walked me to another waiting room where I lay down with my head and knees supported for about 25 minutes. “Your body and nervous system need time to adjust to what just happened,” he said. Well, adjust they did. For the first–I don’t know–five to ten minutes, I cried. Then I laughed a lot. The entire time I could feel my head, neck, shoulders, hips, and legs shifting ever so slightly, tightening up, then relaxing. When Dr. Chism came back, my hands were tingling. “All of that’s normal,” he said. “It’s just your system changing.”
When I first arrived at Dr. Chism’s today, he used a particular tool to measure–I think–how the nervous system in my neck responds. I’m still not super clear on what this tool does. What I do know is that when I got there today, the graph this tool produced looked like a YELLOW S. “We want that line to be straight,” said Dr. Chism. “That’s what we’re working toward.” Well, after my adjustment and “sink in” period, my line was still curved but much straighter, as indicated by the TEAL LINE below. “It’s almost perfect,” Dr. Chism said. “For the first treatment, it’s awesome. You’re going to do really well.”
Before I left, Dr. Chism said, “If you wake up feeling awful again tomorrow, don’t be discouraged. This isn’t a one-and-done thing, and it’s going to take time to get you where we want you. [My thought: That’s okay. You don’t learn to cha cha in a day either.] Also, if you wake up feeling fabulous tomorrow, don’t get too excited. This is A PROCESS. Either way, you might be sore because as your body makes corrections, it’ll be using muscles it’s not used to using.” Then he gave me a dos-and-don’ts pamphlet, his staff took my payment and made me an appointment for next week, and I went on my merry way.
This evening I’ve continued to feel slight changes in my body, something Dr. Chism said could happen over the next two days. And whereas I’m still aware of tightness here and pain there, overall things are MUCH looser and mobile than they’ve been in a long time. Y’all, I’ve been cracked, whipped around, poked, prodded, needled, cupped, electrically stimulated, medicated, and colon cleansed. I’ve spent thousands of dollars trying to feel better and–time and time again–been frustrated. (To be clear, some things have helped, albeit not solved, my problems.) But then today happened. As I sit here now my shoulders aren’t as tight, my rib cage doesn’t hurt as much, and it’s easier to sit and stand up straight.
And here’s something–I’m happier.
As one of my chiropractors often says, things can turn on a dime.
Y’all, I realize I almost never discuss my healthcare providers by name but have gone on and on about Dr. Chism. This is simply because I am so very grateful for having met him. I don’t think it happened by accident. I also realize this is a VERY long post, one of my longest. Alas, this is a BIG subject for me both physically and emotionally, and it has a LONG history. I also want others to be as clear as possible about the process should they choose to explore upper cervical care for themselves. (It’s recommended for headaches, migraines, IBS, acid reflux, fibromyalgia, asthma, arthritis, and chronic fatigue, among other things). Still, if you skimmed down to the last paragraph, I don’t blame you. The main thing I want you to know is that more and more I believe 1) there’s always hope, 2) there’s always help, and 3) even though it may not seem like it at times, heaven is listening. We’re not in this alone. God works in mysterious ways. (Along these lines, sometimes not having enough money to do the things you want to do–and think would help you–IS an answer to prayer.) So don’t you give up. Whatever you’re going through, hold on.
Your story’s not over.
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.
Something I’ve been thinking about today is the idea that intuition is fast, whereas our reasoning minds are slow. As a small (insignificant?) example, this afternoon I was getting dressed for the wedding of some dance students, and I quickly thought, I should wear my dark blue dress shirt. But then I slowly thought, I should wear my light blue dress shirt because it’s newer, sharper, hipper. This is what our minds do–they reason. Anyway, I put on the newer blue shirt only to discover that it didn’t complement the tie I wanted to wear, this floral print number that used to belong to my grandfather. So after ten minutes of wasted time, I put on the older, darker blue shirt, and it matched the tie perfectly.
Caroline Myss says that we are all divinely and angelically guided more than we could ever realize, down to the outfits that we pick out and put on each day. Like, maybe you get the hunch to wear red one morning, and then later that day someone who loves red notices you and strikes up a conversation that changes your life. Or just encourages you in some way. More and more, I’m learning to trust these intuitive hunches. Tonight after the wedding I went to a birthday party and saw a former dance student, someone who used to work with my grandfather. I said, “This tie used to belong to my grandpa,” and he pulled out a pocketknife and said, “Every time I sharpen this, I think of your grandpa because he’s the one who taught me how to sharpen knives.” Y’all, my grandpa has been dead for ten years, but–in that moment–he was alive.
Who’s to say if this would have happened had I’d been wearing another shirt, another tie?
Both the wedding and the birthday party tonight really were beautiful. I wish I had the time and energy to tell you all about them. Alas, it’s one-thirty in the morning and I’m plumb tuckered out. Still, I’d be doing us both a disservice if I didn’t tell you about something that happened at the wedding, something that involved my intuition but that also involved another topic I’ve been talking about lately.
Love.
It was after the outdoor ceremony, and everyone was inside for the reception, and I kept noticing this older, white-haired woman. Y’all, she was absolutely striking. (True beauty is ageless.) She’s a sophisticated gypsy, I thought. Anyway, I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get her off my mind. The meal came and went, the couple cut the cake, and the couple (whom I taught to dance) danced, but I kept coming back to this lady. So finally while everyone else was doing the Cupid Shuffle, I just went over, pulled up a chair, and introduced myself. “I don’t know who you are,” I said, “but you have a very beautiful spirit about you.”
Well, this darling stranger took my hand and said, “I’m deaf. I have a very beautiful what?” So I looked her in the eyes and repeated myself. “You have a very beautiful spirit about you.” Then she thanked me for coming over, and we just sat there for a moment holding hands, me and this person I’d never met before. And not that it was this hugely profound moment, but it sort of was. Because not only did it remind me that my intuition will never lead me wrong (it helps me pick out ties, it helps me pick out people to dote on), but it also reminded me that our hearts are always willing and able to connect. You don’t even have to know someone in order to love them. You can just pick up their hand and say, “You’re gorgeous.” Granted, two minutes later you might walk away and never them again, but at least you were right there, right then together. At least you were being real. At least you were being honest.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths.
When I was teenager, I worked at a summer camp in Mississippi. Simply put, it was a magical experience. Especially that first summer when I was sixteen. Life back home was difficult, and summer camp was an oasis. I made friends I still keep in touch with over twenty years later, played silly games, taught kids how to canoe. And whereas I could go on and on about this, the point is that when I got back home, I TRIED telling important people in my life what a transformative experience it was, and they were like, “Oh? That’s nice. We have a pot roast for dinner.” In short, at least from my perspective, they didn’t “get” it.
My response? I stopped talking about summer camp, stopped sharing my stories about the place that meant so much to me.
Now I realize those people weren’t meant to get it. When Dorothy came back from the Land of Oz, she was simply over the moon–er, rainbow–about all that had happened to her (“And you were there, and you were there!”), but her family was convinced it was a dream. Why? Because they hadn’t been where she’d been. It was Dorothy’s trip alone. Still, what a shame it would have been for her (or L. Frank Baum) to have kept her story to herself. Think how much poorer the world would have been.
I say all this because I recently had an experience that was very special to me but have been hesitant to share it, in part because I don’t think I can quite convey it with words, in part because even if I could, I’m sure there would still be those who doubt it. On Facebook I recently read about someone else’s similar experience, and one of their “friends” said, “This is confirmation bias at its finest.” My therapist’s comment to this was, “You know, everyone on the internet thinks they’re an expert about everything.” Anyway, everyone else’s opinion be damned. More and more it’s enough for me to trust my own experiences. More and more I’m willing to authentically share anything and everything about my life and let people get it or not. Plus–and this is the most important thing–I know that I’ve found help and encouragement from the stories of others, so perhaps others can find help and encouragement from mine.
So with that (I know) very long prologue, let us proceed.
Earlier this summer I took an online class with intuitive Robert Ohotto, and our first “assignment” was to draw a card from Caroline Myss’s archetype deck, the idea being that whatever card you drew would 1) not be accidental and 2) would be important for some reason. While taking this class I blogged about shifting from old patterns of thought and behavior to new ones, so I thought of this card simply as a pattern (or archetypal energy) that wanted to emerge from within me. (This is the part where I don’t want to be misunderstood.) I drew the GOD card.
Now, one could obviously get a big head about identifying with this card, but, to be clear, we’re talking about archetypes, not being literal. That is, meditating on or associating yourself with this card isn’t about feeling superior to anyone else or believing that you can shoot lighting bolts out of your butt. (Although that would be cool, albeit painful.) Rather, as the card says, it’s about recognizing the eternal force that resides within you. As I’ve said a number of times, I often think of myself as weak, so for me it’s been about recognizing that I’m more powerful than I give myself credit for. Anyway, I’ve had the card on my altar all summer.
So get this shit.
Last Saturday (a week ago tomorrow) one of the first things I saw when I woke up was a post from my friend Tina, a dancer I met on one of my trips to Austin. Tina said she’d recently had a transformative experience with an intuitive artist named Charles, that all she did was text Charles her name and that he drew a picture of her–not her physically, but her emotionally, spiritually. She also said that included with his drawing (which Charles did and does strictly on a donation basis), Charles offered a phone call to EXPLAIN both his process and what her particular drawing might be about. Well, I’m pretty intrigued by and open to this sort of thing, so before I crawled out of bed I texted Charles my name. Immediately he texted back, “Yes, of course. I’ll have it done within a couple days.”
Here’s the drawing he sent me this last Monday night.
Considering the archetype card I drew earlier this summer, which, by the way, only me and my therapist have known about, I was blown away when I saw Charles’s drawing. Plus, I instantly and intuitively felt it to be “true” on a number of levels. For example, the guy in the drawing (me) clearly is keeping his emotions in a jar, and that’s something I admittedly do and have written about it extensively. Granted, I’m better about shoving my emotions down than I used to be, but still, it’s sort of my thing. As Charles would explain later, “You’re using your willpower [right side] to keep your emotions in check.”
By the time I spoke to Charles on the phone (a day after I got the drawing), I thought I’d noticed everything about the drawing there was to notice. How wrong I was. But first, let’s back up. Charles said whenever he draws someone, he firsts asks God (whom he calls Yahweh), “Show me Marcus, show me whoever.” He said, “The idea is that this image is both how the universe sees you and how you see yourself. It’s your past, it’s your present, and it’s a tool for moving into your future or full potential.” Then he explained that, much like in a dream, “Everything in the drawing is you.” This means the two columns are me, the guy is me, the jar is me, and so on.
I won’t go on about every detail, but, for example, I told Charles that the two pillars in my life were my family and my therapist, and he replied, “Okay, life is a mirror and a hologram, so that means that your family and your therapist simply reflect back to you those parts of yourself that are strong, solid, or whatever.”
Overall, Charles said the main message of the image was about balancing my masculine (right side) and feminine (left side) energies. Notice how my right side is crying, but my left side isn’t. Notice how there’s a ring (which stands for commitment) on my left side but not my right. The other main message, he said, was about not just feeling and expressing my emotions, but also not being selective about with whom I share my love (hearts in the jar) and wisdom (Greek-like senator or philosopher in “The Thinker” position).
For over an hour, Charles and I went through the whole illustration. “There are no accidents,” he said. “The blue-white robe represents communication. The nipple represents sensitivity and nurturing. The clouds represent three masculine figures in your life and two feminine. The foot represents boundaries [as in, put your foot down]. The fact that there are more golden leaves on the right side than the left and that you noticed? That’s about your perfectionism [guilty]. Enjoy the imperfections!”
I’d say Charles’s drawing “nailed me” and that his suggested interpretations were ninety percent accurate or better. In my experience with intuitives and counselors, this is an extremely high percentage. Plus, as I’ve continued to meditate on his drawing this week, I’ve found it to be true on multiple levels. For example, I can identify the three masculine and two feminine figures represented by the clouds, and I can also associate the clouds with the five major creative ideas or projects I’ve started (three having to do with the blog, two having to do with the world of young adult fiction).
These details are endlessly fascinating to me, but the detail or idea I keep coming back to is one I blogged about last night–the importance of the heart, the importance of having it as my guiding force (over my head), the importance of not keeping any part of myself shoved down simply because I might be afraid of someone else’s reaction or lack of support. (As indicated in the drawing, I have plenty of support already.) Charles said, “You probably gave your heart to someone in the past and ended up getting punched in the bread basket!” (Accurate.) But I know now that the love inside me is never diminished by someone else’s ability to recognize or receive it. Plus, God doesn’t love us only if we “get” it. His hand doesn’t hold anything back. His jar is always open.
[If you’re interested in working with Charles, text your first name to Charles Prophet, 971-283-3600. Be prepared for wisdom, support, and encouragement. And fabulously bad jokes.]
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.
Today I’ve been perfectly content to lie around. This morning I slept in then ate breakfast. This afternoon I watched a television show and a movie. Then for lunch I ate a plateful of peanut butter and jelly. No bread or anything else, just straight up high fructose corn sugar. And whereas part of me felt I was instantaneously undoing the results of all my good choices over the last several weeks (have I mentioned I’ve lost ten pounds?), another part of me knew I needed a break from strict living and enjoyed every delicious bite. My life is a constant struggle between these two forces–the hard ass and the slacker.
The party pooper (no peanut butter for you) and the partier (pass the peanut butter; and no thanks, I’ll just eat it out of the jar).
The evening, partly in an effort to make myself feel better for eating junk for lunch, I exercised at home. And whereas I didn’t go balls to the wall, it was something. Then I ate dinner (one step up from grape jelly–chips and enchiladas), then I did some myofascial release with a lacrosse ball while listening to a free audio program by Caroline Myss and Jim Curtan about how The Wizard of Oz can be used as a template for personal and spiritual growth. Now it’s almost eleven, and, quite frankly, I’m done for the day. My party pooper keeps telling me I should have done more, need to do more, but my partier (the one who would actually have to get out of this bed in order to be more productive) is pooped and keeps telling me to rest.
I wish I had something more exciting to share.
Here’s something interesting. Since starting this blog I’ve caught a decent amount of flack from others and (subsequently) myself about the fact that–most of the time–I write late at night instead of during the day like “normal” people. (Who’d want to be normal? But I digress.) And whereas I readily admit that I’m less stressed and less tired when I write during the day, I’ve found there’s a certain magic that’s present when I write under the moon as opposed to under the sun. Well, get this shit. The audio program I listened to tonight said that as a species we use our heads to make decisions during the day and our hearts to make decisions at night. Who knows why. Maybe our minds need a nap. I just think it’s fascinating that–most of the time–the things I write about here are more concerned with the heart (my heart, specifically) than with the mind. My point is, I’m not sure this project COULD be written solely during daylight hours when my heart is, apparently, less accessible.
Recently my therapist and I discussed a situation in which someone asked me to do something and my gut immediately told me not to (so I didn’t). My therapist said, “Your gut was speaking to you loud and clear, so you don’t need my confirmation, but no, I wouldn’t have done it either.” I tell this story because I’d never want anyone to think that my therapist TELLS me what to do or that she even offers me advice. Certainly not unsolicited advice. (I have family and friends for that). Rather, what she does–and what I think we’d all be better off if we did–is offer perspective, a different way of looking at the situations and relationships in my life. More than this, she AFFIRMS my own inner wisdom and ability to decide for myself. For example, she’s never once told me what I should eat (except, “if your’e going to eat sweets, eat the good shit”), when I should or shouldn’t write, or when I should go to bed or wake up.
Why not, Marcus?
Because I’m an adult, and “it’s inappropriate for one adult to tell another what to do.”
I guess I’m talking about this because we all have a lot of voices in our lives–family, friends, co-workers, pastors, counselors–who tell us what we SHOULD be doing–with our lives, jobs, lovers, wardrobes, and money. At the VERY LEAST, we all have voices in our heads that constantly criticize us and give us grief. Our inner party pooper hates our inner peanut butter eater, and so on. More and more I’m learning to trust my path (as unconventional as it may be) and disregard any voice (even a well-meaning one, even one of my own) that suggests I take a single step off of it. How do you know you’re on the right path? Easy. You listen to your heart. You get to know the one working the night shift.
Well, hell. My internet (hotspot) is running slow AGAIN. It just took me twenty minutes to get online and upload tonight’s picture. Which means every ounce of patience I had before I sat down to blog is now gone. Poof. Evaporated. Out the window. (Just like Donald Trump’s tax returns.) Not to worry. I’m sure my patience will return tomorrow after I’ve gotten a good night’s rest. Ugh. Maybe that’s my problem. Last night I didn’t sleep well. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was up until four in the morning looking at my phone. In my defense, I couldn’t shut my mind off. Maybe it was the coffee. Regardless, this is one of the great tricks of life–you’re often wide awake when you need to be tired and tired when you need to be wide awake.
And impatient when you need to be patient.
Which I guess means I need to be patient now.
Breathe, Marcus.
Something that’s on my mind today is the idea of letting go. For the last few weeks my mom’s been going through our house and garage–throwing away this, donating that, and setting aside everything else for an eventual yard sale. Well, I’ve recently gotten involved. This afternoon my dad and I took our broken lawnmower to the dump, and this evening I started sorting through the small storage room in our garage. Oh my gosh, y’all, talk about a trip down memory lane. When I was a kid, this storage room was my playroom, the place I used to invent contraptions and gadgets. Anyway, tonight I noticed a clothespin nailed to the doorframe. And whereas I don’t remember exactly why I put it there, I’m sure it was for some sort of booby trap.
My point–that clothespin has been there since Tupperware parties were popular, and it’s never once complained. Clearly that clothespin could teach me a thing or two about patience.
While going through the storage room, I began making piles–trash, keep, yard sale. Y’all, I wasn’t always this way, but I love a good trash pile. I guess because whenever I get rid of something I no longer need I feel a sense of freedom. This is what I mean by letting go. I literally don’t have to hold on to that thing any longer. To be responsible for it the rest of my life. To insure it. To dust it.
One of the boxes I opened tonight was full of cassette tapes. Remember those things? They came AFTER 8-tracks but before compact discs (CDs). Well, since I grew up on cassettes, I kept thinking how familiar they felt and how I kind of wanted to hold on to them (but kind of didn’t because they were mostly country music). But then I remembered the last time I tried to play a cassette tape on my boom box (yes, I own a boom box!) and how it ate the tape the way I eat pancakes when I’m starving. That’s right–no more tape.
Tonight it occurred to me that we often hold on to both physical objects and our beliefs (resentments, judgments) simply because they’re familiar or because we can’t be bothered with something new, even if it’s better. Like, after cassette tapes came CDs, and now there’s digital music, which is the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps some quality is sacrificed with digital (right, vinyl lovers?), but think about it. You’d be lucky to get two cassette tapes in your front pocket, but you can easily fit your phone there, and your phone will hold thousands of songs. And yet there are those who refuse to catch up with technology, folks who still use VCRs and cassette players, folks who have yet to learn that video killed the radio star.
If the idea of continuing to use cassette tapes when you could simply use your phone sounds ridiculous, that’s exactly my point. It would be ridiculous to hold on to something that’s no longer useful, especially when you have other, better options. Getting back to the idea of holding on to your resentments and judgments, it’s equally ridiculous to refuse to let go of your drama/trauma stories about people or events that hurt you back when Tupperware parties were popular. Caroline Myss says, “You’re still upset about something that happened twenty years ago? Stop it. You’re wasting your precious life.” Like, let–it–go, Nancy.
Breathe.
Forgive.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Freedom lies on the other side of everything you're afraid of.
This morning I finished listening to an audio series by Caroline Myss and Ron Roth called Spiritual Exploration: Navigating the Dark Night of the Soul. I first listened to this series years ago and recently felt compelled to go through it again.
Note: when you feel compelled to do something, do it.
It’s funny how sometimes a statement sticks and sometimes it doesn’t. For example, when I owned my dance studio, one night some of my most faithful clients were there, and I was talking about how in swing dancing rather than standing upright and shoving yourself in a particular direction, it’s important to lean into a movement, to let gravity PULL you where you want to go. Well, I’d said this no less than a dozen times previously, in the same way, in different ways, but that night, for whatever reason, it clicked for one of my students. They said, “OH, I GET IT!”
Who knows why they didn’t get it before.
It simply wasn’t time.
Anyway, today in the last audio file of the Dark Night of the Soul series, Ron Roth said something that I’d heard him say before but didn’t “get.” (It simply wasn’t time.) He was talking about loving other people, and whereas I can’t swear he meant other DIFFICULT people, people you might look down on, feel superior to, or be upset or pissed off with, those are the ones I thought of. Because, let’s be honest, those are the hard ones to love. Anyway, enough stalling. He said, “Like it or not, God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves you.”
Slow down. Go back and read that again.
Not that this is a new concept for me, the idea that God, life, or the universe loves everyone equally, but it struck me today in a new way. I guess because I have hopes and dreams for my life and would like to believe that whoever or whatever runs this planet, even if it doesn’t agree with everything I do, loves me unconditionally and is behind me, is rooting for me. And if I really believe that’s true for me, then I HAVE to believe that’s true for everyone. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this, that unlike most of us, the gods don’t play favorites. They love all of us. They want all of us to succeed.
This is a game changer if you truly get it.
This afternoon I spent time with my family, and I couldn’t help but see them differently. I like these people to begin with, of course, but I kept thinking, These are people God really cares about. This evening I ran some errands and found myself absolutely riveted by the store clerks who waited on me. I thought, This person’s gotta be pretty fabulous if God loves them as much as he loves me. And whereas that may sound like I think I’m a big deal, I do. I think we all do. This is my point. We are a big deal. At the same time, we’re no more of a big deal than anyone else is. When we imagine we are, that’s when we get into trouble. When we drive through traffic or scroll through Facebook thinking we know it all and that that other guy or gal is just an idiot driver, Republican, or Democrat rather than our equal, we inevitably separate from rather than connect with them.
This is our choice.
For me where the rubber of this idea of us all being equally loved by God really hits the road is in the area of my enemies, those people who have–from my perspective–harmed me in some way and that I’d really rather never see again. And whereas I’d like to say this is a short list of people, it’s quite long and includes exes who have cheated on me, friends who have lied to me, and former clients and employers who haven’t paid me. Like, good riddance. That being said, I’m SURE I’m on a number of other peoples’ shit lists. Because I’m not perfect. (There, I said it.) Anyway, I’ve been thinking about those folks on my shit list, the ones for whom I’d have a difficult time praying, “God, please bless them the way I want you to bless me” and really meaning it. And then I’ve been praying that prayer for them. Because God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves me.
Like it or not.
And I need to be reminded of that.
You know that saying that hurting people hurt people? Well, it occurs to me that when we’re unwilling to see those who have hurt us as just as special as we see ourselves and unwilling to desire the very best for them, we are, in effect if not in conscious practice, desiring that they continue to hurt (as punishment) and–consequently–continue to hurt others. This is bad logic. Think about your most miserable relative, the one who makes holidays oh-so-much fun. Don’t you suffer when they suffer? Wouldn’t you prefer for them to be happy, and wouldn’t you be happier if they were? This is how life works. We either suffer with one another or we celebrate with one another, but we’re all in this together.
Like it or not.
My suggestion: like it.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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You've really got to believe in yourself and what you're doing. Again, it comes down to integrity and making something solid of yourself, something that's so well-built on the inside that it can handle any storm.
