On Phones and Boundaries (Blog #896)

Two days ago I spilled hot tea on my phone, so I shut it off, took the battery out, and put it in rice to dry out. This morning I put everything back together, and–thankfully–it’s worked fabulously ever since. That being said, I have to say it was really nice going without my phone all day yesterday. It was nice waking up this morning and not immediately being bombarded by text messages, missed calls, and whatever the hell Facebook had to say. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed just waking up slowly, then (later) eating breakfast quietly–without having to think about anyone else’s good news or bad news. I’d like to make this a habit–not looking at my phone until I’m ready to face whatever it has to say.

You know, like when I’m awake.

This afternoon I started painting the dining room at the house I’ve been working on for several weeks now. While painting I thought about how I could reasonably unplug a bit more. For the longest time I’ve done my best to unsubscribe from newsletters that don’t truly interest me. I keep my phone on silent. Still, I check it constantly, if only to see what time it is or play a certain song. But you know how it goes. You get sucked in. So today I thought, I could uninstall Facebook. Just check it on my laptop. Then I thought, Eeek. I don’t know if I’m that strong. It does come in really handy for sending messages. So I took a baby step instead. I turned off push notifications, those annoying pop up messages that tell you every time someone mentions you, comments on a post you’re following, or goes to the bathroom.

In terms of areas in which I’ve grown the most since starting therapy, believe it or not, my phone tops the list. What I mean is that I used to think every time someone called or texted me, I OWED them an immediate reply. Now–in most cases–I think, I don’t owe them anything. I’ll reply when I’m ready, if at all. If I want to. Anyway, if you’re wanting to have better boundaries, either with someone specific or the world in general, your phone is a great place to start. If you’re used to replying immediately, wait. An hour, until dinner’s over, until tomorrow. Seriously, give it a shot. The world won’t fall apart.

In my experience with not replying so quickly, I’ve found that some of my friends have handled it well and others haven’t. Sometimes I get huffy reminder texts filled with question marks. “Helllooooo?????” And whereas I get it–I live in the same fast food/immediate gratification world that you do–chill out.

Personally, I like it when people freak out over silence, since it lets me know what kind of person I’m dealing with. Have I been that person who’s freaked out before? You’re damn right I have. But I’d rather someone take their time and come back with something honest and heartfelt than off the cuff. Caroline Myss tells a story about a nun whose bishop was pressing her to reply to an email he sent, but the nun said, “Hey, buddy, you had weeks to send my your email, and I’m taking the same amount of time to reply. My answer will affect a lot of people for years to come, and I need this time to reflect on my response.”

Wow. Talk about responsible.

This evening I had dinner with a dear friend of mine, and we both purposed to put our phones away while we were eating. We each made a couple exceptions, but it made the biggest difference. For over two hours we chatted and caught up with each other. We didn’t interrupt. Instead, we listened. We laughed. My point is that–and I speak from personal experience–it’s difficult to truly be present with another person (or even yourself) when you’re constantly on your phone, thinking about what’s going on out there instead of what’s going on right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The truth is right in front of you."

The Grace of Forgiveness (Blog #887)

Something my therapist and I almost never talk about is forgiveness. “I just think it’s a really personal thing,” she says whenever we do talk about it. I agree. I grew up in the church and know all the admonitions–forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors, forgive seventy times seven. And yet in my experience forgiveness has never been something I’ve been able to force myself to do even though it comes highly recommended by our lord and savior Jesus Christ. It’s not like taking out the trash, a task you accomplish even if your heart’s not in it. No, when it comes to forgiveness, you have to mean it.

I’m talking about this now because this morning in my Facebook memories a quote popped up from Caroline Myss: “Identify one piece of unfinished business (this could be a person or a task), then do one thing to bring it to closure. If you find that you’re unable to do so, you’ve identified a major power leak and a serious block to your healing. Your goal: to understand that all experiences either make you bitter or better.”

For me, my unfinished business was, well, a number of people. I’ll explain. Since starting therapy I’ve consciously ended–or at least put on hold–quite a few relationships. Like, enough to seem ridiculous. And whereas I don’t regret any of these choices, I do think in several cases I could have gone about it better. Granted, I only know this in hindsight, since I’ve learned other, better ways of communicating. This being said, there are several people that if I were to run into them, it would be awkward. “Let it be awkward,” my therapist says. Still, these situations, these people, feel like unfinished business to me.

Now, whenever I feel like something needs to be done about a less-than-perfect relationship, my first reaction is to show up on someone’s doorstep and say, “We need to talk.” However, I know what it feels like to KNOW a conversation needs to be had, and I didn’t feel that this morning–about anyone. What I did feel, however, was that for–well, a bunch of folks–I needed to take one small but specific step toward closure. (What step, Marcus?) I’m glad you asked. I needed to pray for them.

Once a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous told me one way to get over resentment was to pray for the person you’re pissed off at–for thirty days. “Keep it simple,” they said. “Pray for their health and happiness and be done with it.”

“Even if I don’t mean it?” I said.

“Even if you don’t mean it.”

The good news is that as I went through “my list” this morning, I did mean it. May you be happy, healthy, and free of suffering, I thought as I imagined each person. Then I added, I release you to the universe. In a few cases, I felt resistance–like, screw them–and I figured this was a good sign that I absolutely needed to keep up the exercise. Occasionally I find myself in mental arguments with people (Fuck you, Nancy!), and this too, I think, is a sign that there’s unfinished business or something to forgive. My AA friend says that neutrality is the goal when it comes to your “enemies.” You don’t have to feel warm and fuzzy about them, but you do need to stop hating them. You need to sop fantasizing about humiliating them on national television.

Or is that just me?

Caroline says this is the deal when we’re unwilling to forgive–we can’t give up our desire for control, our desire for vengeance. It’s why I added the line about releasing the person to the universe. Personally, I’ve come to the point where all those fantasies about evening the score with people are just too heavy to carry. So let the universe deal with the sons of bitches. I’m tired of thinking about them. I have other shit to do.

Another thing Caroline says is that for every person you struggle to forgive, consider that someone else is struggling to forgive you. And also–for everyone you’re in therapy over, consider that someone else is in therapy over you. Ouch, I know. Still, I find comfort in the idea that everyone has their side of the story because it reminds me to not get too married to mine. Whether on purpose or not, I know I’ve caused other people pain. That’s something I tried to remember as I thought of the people in my life that push my buttons–I only know my side of the story. I push people’s buttons too.

Tonight I sprayed a friend’s fence with bleach then washed it off with a hose in order to remove years worth of dirt, grime, and algae. And whereas it was successful, I could do it two more times and there’d still be gunk on the fence. Sometimes I think forgiveness is like this–something that requires more than one pass. There’s an idea that the only reason you need to forgive someone is because you judged them in the first place (think about that), and maybe this is why it can take a long time to forgive. We have to come to a different understanding about what happened. We have to judge differently. These things don’t happen overnight.

Other times I think, You either forgive or you don’t. When I had my estate sale I let go of a lot of physical items. Three years later, they’re still gone. This means I really let them go. I didn’t half let them go. For me, this is the goal of forgiveness–letting go all the way. Not hanging on to resentment even a little. As my friend Randy used to say, “Set it free. Set it free.”

For me, freedom is the goal, and I think forgiveness is one of the best vehicles to get there. Because who suffers when you’re pissed off, angry at, or resentful toward someone else? That’s right, you do. That being said, I used to view forgiveness as a way to get out of having to have difficult conversations or to set boundaries with people. Like, I’ll just forgive them, and then I won’t have to stand up for myself. This doesn’t work. (I repeat, this doesn’t work.) This, I think, is why my therapist doesn’t push forgiveness. In terms of fixing problems in your life and relationships, and these are my words not hers, it’s not a heavy lifter. Yes, it can heal what nothing else can, but if you’re being abused, it’s more important for you to get the hell out of dodge than to be forgiving. Once you’re safe, then you can forgive. This is the grace of forgiveness–it keeps the anger and the angst from continuing. It stops you from abusing you (and others). It ends the past and lets you be free right here, right now. Of course, forgiving someone doesn’t mean you’ll want to go to dinner with them. (If things were really bad, you probably won’t.) It does mean, I’ve had enough suffering. I’m moving on with my life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

"

On Words and How You Change Your Reality (Blog #880)

This afternoon I painted for two hours, came home and took a shower, and went to the chiropractor. Then I met with a friend for whom I’ll be house sitting soon, bought a piece of carpet for my parents’ garage (for when our cars leak), went to Kinko’s to get a quote for a print job, and went the library to download and test a some new software on my computer. Then, because the software didn’t work because the library is picky about what you can do on their network, I went to a coffee shop to test the software. Much to my delight, it worked there.

Phew.

This evening I’ve been putting off writing the blog. Not because there’s something I need to say but don’t want to, but simply because I don’t want to say anything–period. I’d rather curl up with a book and go to bed. Lately I’ve been go-go-going a lot and not really taking a break. Even on my days off, I find things to do. I mean, there’s always a lawn that needs to be mowed, something that needs to be fixed, or a potential creative project to start.

Somebody make me take a nap.

I know, that’s my job.

This evening I found myself frustrated first because, well, money, and second because I was having such a difficult time getting that software to download and work. You know, life never happens as fast as you want it to. Thankfully, I drove around with my windows down (something I love to do), listened to some of my favorite music, and told myself a few stories and felt better.

What kind of stories did you tell yourself, Marcus?

I’m glad you asked.

This morning my mom was watching Dr. Oz, and I overheard a part when the good doctor was interviewing a professional taste tester. “Do you have more taste buds that most people?” he asked. “No,” she said, “I have the same taste buds that everyone else has. What I do have more of is words. I have more words to DESCRIBE what I’m tasting and feeling.”

I’ve been thinking about this all day. Caroline Myss says that our words shape our reality. For example, how much power have you given the word fat? It’s just a three-letter word, but my guess is it controls you. Now think of how you frame the inconveniences or atrocities in your life. When you think of them or describe them to someone else, do you use words like awful and unfair, or phrases like no big deal or learning experience? Because, guaranteed, how you frame your experiences will determine whether or not they cause you needless suffering.

This is what I mean by the stories I told myself this evening. When I started thinking and getting upset about money (yesterday I had some expensive work done on my car, Tom Collins), rather than wallowing I started thinking of all the blessings in my life–the free books I get to read at the library, the job opportunities that have come my way lately, the fact that I SAVED nearly two hundred dollars on the repair work because I used a private mechanic instead of a garage. When I got frustrated about the software installation, I thought, I’d like this to work as soon as possible, but there’s absolutely no deadline involved here. I have all the time in the world to figure this out. To boil this last example down, you could say at first I thought I HAD to finish, then I thought I COULD finish.

This shift in words–in perspective–changed everything.

Recently I got together with a friend who is a dynamo when it comes to writing and singing music. Like, I’d kill for their specific talent. Well, during the course of our get-together, they said they didn’t think of themselves as a REAL musician because they couldn’t play an instrument (very well). Immediately I said, “Oh, that’s not true.” Now, for ME that’s not true, but obviously for THEM, it is. Like, if they don’t ever change their mind about it, they could go the rest of their life never fully recognizing and basking in the glory of their wonderful talent, never enjoying the label of musician. I mean, I get it. My therapist has been telling me for years that I’m fabulous at this and wonderful at that, and I’m like, Eh, I’m okay.

Well, words matter. There’s a HUGE DIFFERENCE between okay and fabulous.

Getting back to the taste tester lady, I don’t know that she HAS more words than most of us do, she’s simply learned how to use them properly, to know what words go with what flavors and textures. This, I think, is what most of us need to learn to do–to use our words properly, to use them to empower ourselves rather than depower ourselves. This is where a good therapist or self-help book can come in handy. They can introduce a new story, a new perspective. They can say, “Sweetheart, take another look. What you’re telling yourself about yourself or this situation isn’t true.” Then you can reconsider, and if you wish, rewrite your story. (You’re that powerful.) This is how you change your perspective. This is how you change your reality.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

"

 

It’s about Momentum (Blog #862)

After spending most of this last week fighting a stomach bug (or maybe food poisoning), I woke up today significantly better. Granted, I’m not ready for Thai food and pizza, but I am feeling more–what’s the word?–stable. Maybe seventy-five percent. Although my hips hurt like an old lady’s. Who knows why. Maybe that’s part of the sickness. Maybe I got dehydrated or spent too much time in bed. Either way, I could use some Bengay.

Honey, I’ve been gay my whole life.

But I digress.

In order to “celebrate” my body’s recovery, I spent today cleaning house. My parents are having company next week, so getting the house clean before their friends arrive is a family goal. (Go team.) Anyway, this afternoon I dusted most of the house, cleaned my bathroom, then tackled a few odd jobs I’ve been putting off for a while–storing a lambrekin under a bed (which required taking the bed apart), reattaching a toilet paper holder to a wall, super-gluing a wooden knickknack together, fixing the legs on my mom’s recliner, and removing a grease stain from the interior of my car, Tom Collins. My dad said, “What’s come over you?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “Sometimes I just get in a mood.”

Later when Dad and I were moving the living room couch so we (I) could vacuum under it, he said, “Don’t worry. We [you] won’t have to do any of this again for six or eight months.”

“Thank god,” I replied.

In terms of being in the mood to clean and tackle projects–really–I think it mostly comes down to just getting started. Like, I’d already set the day aside to work on the house, so as I was cleaning and remembered odd jobs I’d procrastinated, I thought, What’s one more thing? I’m already in the middle of it (cleaning and fixing shit).

Now my question is, “What are YOU in the middle of?” Because chances are, that’s what you’re going to keep doing, since that’s where your momentum is (and it’s about momentum). For instance, while cleaning this afternoon I got caught up in an episode of Dr. Phil in which a woman who’d had an affair created this HUGE ordeal (like, she went on the Dr. Phil show and claimed her phone had been hacked by Russians) in order to cover her tracks and convince her husband otherwise. Of course, this ordeal started off as one lie, then it grew from there. By the time she was IN THE MIDDLE OF IT, she and her husband had not only spent thousands of dollars on new electronics and a private investigator (who said the lady herself was the hacker), but she’d also tried to deceive half of America. And Dr. Phil!

Bitch, please.

People say, “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” And whereas the emphasis of that statement is usually on the word tangled or deceive, I think it could just as easily be put on the word first. That is, where do you START? With lying or with honesty? Because that’s probably what you’ll end up in the middle of and–later– finish with. One thing leads to another. Again, it’s about momentum.

To be clear, although the example I used was about lying, the principle of momentum is neutral. For example, I’ve gotten a lot of positive benefits from both therapy and this blog, and–really–that success is largely due to the fact that I simply started something and have continued to show up to it. Often when evaluating my friendships or considering possible suitors (it does it happen occasionally), I sometimes want to ignore red flags and enjoy the fantasy for a while. But then I think, What’s one more confrontation? What’s one more boundary? I’m already in the middle of it (mental health, taking care of myself). Sometimes I want to cling to a particular object, but then I think, I can let go of this. I’m already in the middle of it (living as a minimalist, not being so attached to physical things).

We’re powerful beyond our comprehension.

This is one of the reasons, I think, why Caroline Myss says there’s no such thing as a small choice. Because one thing leads to another. I chose to clean the house today, and everything looks different now, better. I chose to go to therapy five years ago, and–oh my gosh–my entire world has been turned upside down in the best way. Caroline tells the story of a man who was on his was to commit suicide and changed his mind because a total stranger, who happened to be driving by, smiled at him. Wow. We think we can’t make a difference, that we’re not powerful. But the truth is we’re powerful beyond our comprehension. There are few things we can’t do if we simply decide to. There are few things we can’t do if we simply begin.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

"

Your Beautiful, Creative Mind (Blog #851)

This morning I wrapped up a house sitting gig then came home, made breakfast, and unpacked. Well, sort of. I brought my bags in from the car. Now they’re on my bedroom floor. Anyway, after breakfast (and a nap), I read The Magician’s Nephew, book one of seven in The Chronicles of Narnia (and just before The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe), by CS Lewis. Somehow I missed this book as a child, but, y’all, it’s delightful. It’s about a young girl named Polly and her friend Digory, who get swept off to a number of different worlds thanks to Digory’s less than integrous uncle, who likes to dabble in magic. Along the way they encounter a terrible witch and, eventually, end up in Narnia, thus setting the stage for six more books about the same enchanting land.

Seven books in total. If you put them side by side, they’re thicker than a brick. What a beautiful, creative mind that CS Lewis (his friends and family called him Jack) clearly had. Sometimes my writer friends and I talk about what it must take as a fiction writer to build an entire world. I thought about this as I read The Magician’s Nephew today, and it seemed clear to me that Lewis must have had a map laid out for the series from the beginning. For example, both a lamppost and a wardrobe are prominent features in The Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe, and the origin of each is explained in The Magician’s Nephew. When I read this I thought, This guy was thinking ahead. However, this was not the case, since The Magician’s Nephew was THE LAST book in the series to be penned. So what Lewis actually did was create something out of thin air (Narnia) then go back later and explain how it got there.

In other words, he was thinking behind.

This evening I finished reading Defy Gravity by Caroline Myss, and one of the points she drives home over and over (and over) again is that you will never, ever (ever) get a satisfactory answer to the question “Why did this happen to me?” I mean, Abraham didn’t get one. Moses didn’t get one. Jesus (the son of God) didn’t get one. Why should you? (Why should I?) And yet something shitty happens, and we all wonder–Why me? Caroline calls this a child’s question, and I think it has to do with the fact that most of us are much better at thinking behind than we are thinking ahead.

I’ll explain.

There’s a story about a man with poor eyesight who’s fishing on a quiet lake and notices another boat approaching him. However, thinking the other boat will turn away, he goes back to fishing. Next thing he knows, the boat has run into him, nearly tipping him into the water. Well, the man is pissed off and starts on this tirade (like you probably do in traffic sometimes). Who the hell do you think you are? and so on. He’s thinking the driver of the other boat is a real asshat. Probably did it on purpose. Like most of us, he wants some answers. However, then the man realizes the boat is unoccupied. Maybe it got loose from the harbor, he thinks. Quickly, he calms down. He even laughs at himself. Boy, I really made a big deal out of nothing.

If the point’s not obvious, it’s that often in life we get hit–physically, emotionally. Shit happens. However, as if almost getting knocked over (physically, emotionally), weren’t enough, we create a narrative about the situation. We think BEHIND and IMAGINE that the other person (or God, even) was out to get us. We take things personally. Of course, you might think, But what if the guy really had been hit by another driver? (I’ve been rear-ended before, and the car that did it was most certainly occupied.) But what’s the difference whether someone was in the boat or not or whether or not they did it on purpose? Either way, you got hit.

So here’s an option. Instead of thinking behind, you could think ahead. Okay, I got hit. NOW what am I gonna do?

This weekend while house sitting I took my friend’s dog for several walks. Honestly, it wasn’t best neighborhood, and I found myself doing what I often do–making judgments. Like, That’s a nice house, that’s a real piece-of-shit house, and so on. Well, if you want to know how to build a world, this is how you do it. What I mean is that the world as it exists is devoid of inherent meaning. My therapist says the universe is neutral. If you want to test this theory out, take a friend–just one honest friend–on a walk or to an art gallery and start comparing notes. What’s beautiful in your eyes will be rubbish in theirs. You’ll walk outside on a cloudy day and think, Disgusting, and your friend will think, Glorious.

In the last example, what we essentially have, at least for a moment, is two different worlds. That is, you’ll be living in a disgusting world, and your friend will be living in a glorious one. Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, this doesn’t mean that you created the clouds in the sky, but it does mean that you–and you alone–created how you perceived or interpreted those clouds, and this means everything.

It means you’re more powerful than you’ve been giving yourself credit for.

Going back to thinking behind, whenever you do see something you dislike, let’s be clear–it’s only because you’ve reached into your past, found a negative experience, and laid its memory on top of your present moment, or, perhaps, your future. Let’s say I were to invite you on a skiing trip and you said, “No, I hate skiing.” Granted, maybe you DID hate skiing six years ago, but how do you know you’ll still hate skiing this December? You can imagine you would hate it, but how could you KNOW? You haven’t been yet.

I mean, anything could happen on those slopes. You could meet your soulmate.

Going back to The Chronicles of Narnia, it seems that thinking behind and thinking ahead are lovely skills to have for authors. And since we are all the authors of our own lives (or at least the internal narrative about our own lives), I grant that these are good skills for all of us. For example, if you’re deathly allergic to peanuts, it’s good to bring your past into the present–so you won’t die from eating peanut butter. If you want to redecorate a room or your life, it’s good to imagine what you’d like to manifest. But when you imagine another person’s (or God’s) motives or take a perfectly lovely day (what did THOSE clouds ever do to you?) and turn it into something disgusting–and thus cause yourself upset or distress–this is misusing your beautiful, creative mind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A friend’s laughter takes us backward and carries us forward simultaneously.

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

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

Whenever she says this, I squirm in my seat.

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

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

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

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

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

Well, okay, fine, you got me there.

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

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

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

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

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

Talk about funny.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

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On Changing Your Patterns (Blog #848)

This morning, before I’d even gone to the restroom, I returned a missed call from the garage where I get my oil changed. Yesterday I dropped off my car, Tom Collins, at the garage and found out I needed a new set of tires. That’s always fun. But my tires weren’t the reason they called today. Instead I was told that dear Tom ALSO needs new struts. Fortunately, I already knew this. Well, sort of. My regular mechanic told me a few weeks ago that one of my struts was leaking and that he could fix it for x amount of dollars. But since I didn’t have x amount of dollars (that I wanted to spend) on car repairs at that red hot moment, I told him to wait.

But back to the phone call this morning. THAT mechanic told me that one of my struts was leaking and that–really–I should just replace the whole front suspension. “I can do that for you,” he said, “for x amount plus 200 dollars. And don’t worry, I’ve replaced 50 of those things before and have never had one come back on me.”

“Well, the truth is that I’ve already gotten a quote for that,” I said, “and they were 200 dollars cheaper.”

“Was that quote for one strut or for both?”

Hum.

“You know, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

Now, in my mind, there wasn’t anything else to say. HOWEVER, the guy on the other end of the phone kept talking, pushing. “Is your guy going to replace just the hydraulic shaft or also the spring? Because I’ll replace everything–on both sides,” he said.

“As I just said, I don’t know.”

“Well, you should ask your mechanic,” he said, then started talking about labor. “And I know we’re more expensive on hourly, but I can get this done in two hours, and that’s not much.”

At this point I’d had enough. I hate being told what to do. I hate pushy, needy, I’m-great-just-ask-me kind of people. I still had to pee. So I did something I rarely do–I interrupted the asshole.

“I appreciate the information,” I said, “but I’m done with this conversation.”

“Okay,” he said, then hung up.

Then I hung up.

Fifteen minutes later the secretary at the garage called.

“Your car is ready.”

A word that’s been coming up for me lately is PATTERNS. No kidding, it’s shown up in multiple books I’ve been reading, on podcasts I’ve listened to, and has even been mentioned by friends. Usually this in-my-face approach is a sign the universe wants me to learn something. At least that’s how I take it. Anyway, the idea is that if you want something to change in your life, it’s not just a matter of changing that one thing. Rather, it’s about changing, or at least being willing to change, a whole host of things. Because everything in life is connected. Said another way, if you want different results, you have to be willing to alter (read: sacrifice) your current patterns and allow new ones to take their place.

How do I explain this? If you brush your teeth every day, that’s a habit. If you always use the same type of toothbrush, that you buy at the same store and keep in the same place on your counter, and you always floss before and rinse and spit afterwards, that’s a pattern. If you brush, then wash your face, then take your nighttime meds, then put on your pajamas, that’s a pattern. Also, it’s a ritual. And if you don’t think even a “little” ritual like this is a big deal, try changing yours by doing everything you normally do in reverse. Or let your friend or lover teach you a new way of brushing your teeth, folding your clothes, or loading the dishwasher, then never go back to your way again. See if you don’t put up a fuss.

Maybe a big one.

The idea here is that we create rituals in order to manage some part of our psyche (and this is why we don’t easily change them). Caroline Myss says you could go through daily rituals and directly correlate each one to one of your seven chakras. You lock your doors for your survival (chakra one), you wear cute underwear for your sexuality (chakra two), you check the mirror for broccoli in your teeth for your self-esteem (chakra three) and so.

Many rituals, of course, involve other people. Our patterns definitely do. For example, recently I was in a pattern of going to see my chiropractor every two weeks. However, when my insurance benefits (for chiropractic and physical therapy) ran out because I’d use so many visits for physical therapy after my knee surgery, I went to a different (more affordable) chiropractor. On the surface this seems like a small choice, but there’s no such thing. That is, my decision to change chiropractors not only affects where I drive every week or two, but also affects the amount of money each chiropractor (and even their staff) makes. It affects the quality of care I get (because each chiropractor approaches the body differently). Because my second chiropractor wants to take dance lessons, my small decision ultimately influences how he and his wife will spend time together, where they may go out on Friday nights, whom they may meet there.

I’m going on about all this to drive home a couple points. First, little things can be big things. If you grabbed a corner of your shirt and twisted it, then kept twisting, eventually you’d see an effect up to your shoulder. This is because your shirt itself is a pattern, a woven tapestry, and you can’t change one part without changing the rest. This is how your life and relationships work. In terms of my interaction with the garage mechanic this morning, it may seem like a little thing for me to have interrupted him and voiced my frustration, but for me it was big huge because I’ve never done anything quite like that before. My pattern historically has been to not interrupt, to be nice, to go along to get along, to let it go. But by changing my reaction in one interaction, that means it will be easier to change it in others. Plus, I’ll carry around less internal frustration–because when you’re honest and direct rather than insincerely polite, you undo emotional knots rather than create them.

In other words, I laid the groundwork for a new pattern today.

Tonight I heard Robert Moss, who’s an expert on dreams and dreaming, say that sometimes our dreams alert us to new ways of being, new possibilities. Like, the last few years I’ve had a bunch of dreams about being aggressive, even yelling. So, according to Moss, that’s a part of my psyche that wants to emerge–a more forceful Marcus. Recently I blogged about the benefit of doing things symbolically. An example is that this afternoon I mowed my parents lawn and instead of doing it the way I always do, I mixed it up. Instead of mowing this section then that section, I did that section then this section. Instead of using diagonals lines, I used horizontal and vertical lines. Nothing “huge,” but it served the same purpose as my cutting off the pushy mechanic did. Both were my way of communicating to my unconscious–I am willing to change my patterns. I am willing to do things differently. I am willing to get different results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”

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On Where You Are Anchored (Blog #845)

Here’s something weird. A few days ago I went shopping and bought two new t-shirts. One of them, pictured above, has an anchor on it. I don’t know why I bought it. I used to have a necklace with an anchor on it, but I’m not particularly attracted to either anchors or sailing. I more of a landlubber. Still, I liked the shirt’s color and length, and it was the right price. Seven bucks. Can’t beat that. Well, I guess you can, since the other shirt I bought was two. But how often does THAT happen? Once in a blue moon.

Anyway, here’s the weird part. That night I started watching an online video series called Sacred Power with Caroline Myss. In the first episode she explained that each of us is quite literally an energetic being and that we all receive energy (or power) through the top of our heads, what’s often called the crown chakra in yoga. The she said that as a medical intuitive, which is essentially someone who can “read” someone else’s energy system, she could tell where a person was losing energy. When I blogged about this the other night I gave the example of my recently running into someone I didn’t want to see and how I felt like I was going to shit my pants. This means that on some level, at least for that moment, I’d given my energy or power away. If you imagined a human-shaped balloon filled with water and then imagined someone poking a big hole in that balloon’s stomach, that’s what I felt like.

Houston, we have a problem.

I realize I still haven’t told you the weird part. Hang on, I’m getting there. Caroline further explained that as a medical intuitive she gets pictures or images of where a person’s energy is “going” or who or what it’s “attached” to. For example, if you wake up every day worrying about money, pissed off at someone, or holding a grudge about something that happened to you thirty years ago, she’d get an impression of that. Strange, I know, but you can walk into a room and know when someone you love is hurt, angry, or confused before they even say a word. We’re all sensitive to energy. Caroline has simply (and finely) honed a skill we all have. Anyway, most of this information was old hat to me, but then Caroline said something I’d never heard her say before. (Remember I’d just bought that shirt.) She said, “I call these energy leaks ANCHORS.”

When I heard her say this, something clicked for me. What I mean is that I get the idea of leaking energy, a balloon that’s losing water. But an anchor paints a different picture. An energetic anchor means that you’re tied to something in the past, something outside of you that that’s holding you down and holding you back. That is, the more energetic anchors you have, the slower you move through life.

As if the synchronicity of this situation weren’t enough to think about and be amazed by, yesterday I taught a dance lesson, and one of my students (who used to be a music teacher) said she called the “one” (the first beat in a measure) the ANCHOR.

“That’s my word of the week,” I said, and we left it at that.

Then today I saw her husband (my chiropractor), and he referenced my comment yesterday and said, “I’d like you to read something,” an excerpt from the book The Energy Codes by Sue Morter. Essentially, the passage spoke about how we can project our energy outside of ourselves. We all do this, for example, when we fall in love or put someone on a pedestal. Quite literally, we give part of ourselves (or spirit) to that other person (or object, say, if you’re in love with or can’t part with–I don’t know–your favorite pair of shoes). Anyway, Sue suggests a process called “central channel breathing,” which Judith Blackstone (who wrote Trauma and the Unbound Body) also recommends. This involves breathing “from” three (Blackstone) or four (Morter) of your energy centers or chakras, which are located along your spine. For a brief explanation, click here. In my experience this type of breathing provides a sense of being CENTERED. Sue calls it being ANCHORED.

Tonight, in another synchronistic moment, my dad, without any previous explanation from me, commented on my shirt and said, “Are you anchored to yourself?”

“That’s the idea!” I said.

What I mean is that our bodies, souls, and spirits operate best when we are anchored INTERNALLY rather than EXTERNALLY. That is, YOUR energy belongs in YOUR body. But when you worry about anything, hold grudges, or project your emotions (verbally vomit, my therapist says) on someone else, you’re essentially investing your domestic energetic dollars in a foreign bank. This is why Jesus spoke so much of giving no thought for tomorrow and of forgiving others. Both worrying and refusing to “let go” anchor or tie you down to either the future or the past. Neither of which exist outside of the thoughts in your head, by the way. So better to be right here, right now, anchored within. Better to be free.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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On Power and Empowerment (Blog #842)

Last night after blogging I stayed up late and watched The Adjustment Bureau staring Matt Damon. (What a handsome fella.) The movie is about a politician (played by Damon) who unwittingly stumbles upon a group of angels (The Adjustment Bureau) who work to keep humanity “on plan.” I love this stuff, the idea that there’s more going on “down here” than what we can see, that there’s a great drama unfolding of which we get to play a part. I was absolutely riveted and completely amused.

Until three in the morning, that is, when I walked into the bedroom where I’m house sitting and my friend’s dog was on MY side of the bed.

“Scooter, SCOOT over,” I said.

Scooter snored.

So guess who moved sides?

Today has been absolutely marvelous. This morning I read The Adjustment Team by Philip K. Dick, which is the short story The Adjustment Bureau was based on. And whereas there were similarities, there were a lot of differences. For one thing, the short story was, well, short–just seventeen pages. For another, it didn’t involve a politician. Still, I’m fascinated by the fact that a short written over fifty years ago was the inspiration for a modern-day blockbuster movie. This the power of creativity. This is the power of words.

This afternoon I continued to read. First I finished the book I started yesterday, The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. Then I read the (short) play, The Devil and Daniel Webster by Stephen Vincent Benet (because May said it was a modern retelling of Faust). Then I read King, Warrior, Magician, Lover by Robert Moore, about four of the main archetypes (or patterns for thinking, feeling, and behaving) present in men. As most teacher of archetypes do, Moore points out that every archetype has a shadow side. For example, one shadow aspect of The King is The Tyrant. One shadow aspect of The Warrior is The Coward.

Speaking of coward, I just had to stop blogging to let Scooter outside. Never mind the fact that he has a DOGGIE DOOR! He’s just too afraid (at night) to use it. I mean, What’s on the other side?

This evening I ran some errands–bought some new socks, went grocery shopping. Then I came back home (my home for now, that is) and exercised while I watched/listened to a couple episodes of Sacred Power with Caroline Myss. Boy, that lady doesn’t pull any punches. If you’d like a dose of honesty (and who wouldn’t, really?), check her out. One of the exercises she suggested tonight was to notice–just notice–how much time you spend every day thinking about what anyone else may think of you (for any reason). Said another way, notice how easily or often you’re humiliated or embarrassed. Because whether it’s fifteen minutes or two hours a day, that’s fifteen minutes or two hours in which you’re losing energy, in which you’re losing power, that you don’t have to.

Personally, I’m really challenged by this. I can’t tell you the number of times each day I’m distracted by what someone else might think of me. I’m like Scooter–worried. How many likes did my last post get? That photo really wasn’t my best. Does these things really matter? No. I don’t know a single person who would say they do. And yet we all act like they do. We spend so much time finding that perfect selfie angle. You know, the one that hides our fat.

More and more, I’m seeing this not only as wasted time, but also–in Caroline’s terms–wasted energy, wasted power. This isn’t just an intellectual concept. When I’m really concerned about things that aren’t my business, I can feel it in my body. I get agitated, restless, tired. Not too long ago I saw someone I’d really prefer to never see again ever, and it was like my entire spirit got up and walked out of the room. I felt like I was going to shit on myself. Thankfully, I didn’t. Instead, I did my best to pull myself together, to call my spirit back. Hey, get back here. No one else is going to scare us off. We’re a Warrior, not a Coward.

Courage.

Courage, that’s something Scooter doesn’t have much of. Just a moment ago I had to get back out of my comfortable recliner to open the door for him–again. He kept pawing at the DOGGIE DOOR but wouldn’t actually use the fucking thing. So for a moment I lost my cool and was like, What the hell, man? Is it really all that complicated?

And before you say anything in his defense, the answer is no, it’s not. I saw him use it this afternoon.

Clearly, I’m not over it. I’m working on it. Nonetheless, this is a small example of one of the many ways in which a person can lose energy or power. That is, before Scooter took my side of the bed and before he refused to use HIS DOOR, I was perfectly happy. Peaceful. But then when he, oh, simply acted like himself (his owner told me he was a real wuss), I got in a tither and lost my peace. In terms of power, I lost my CONTROL. This is really the issue when we worry about what other people think of us or–on a grander scale–when we hold grudges and resentments over things that happened two weeks or two decades ago. Rather than US controlling our internal atmosphere, we make the CHOICE to let someone or something else control it. Tying everything back to archetypes, this means we act from our shadow or disempowered self rather than from our empowered self.

Is it easy to develop and act from our empowered self? No. It’s the journey of a lifetime.

Is it worth any and all effort it takes to do so?

Absolutely.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When the universe speaks—listen.

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The Final Say (Blog #811)

I’ve spent a large part of the day focusing on a literal pain in my neck that has bothered me for months and is sometimes worse than others. It’s this constant tension that often turns into a pounding headache. Thankfully, if I focus on it and breathe just so, it loosens up. Not completely and not permanently, but some.

Ugh. I wish it would just go away.

I keep hoping for a miracle with my neck, but it’s probably going to take several more days, weeks, months like today, moments when I slow down, breathe, and do my best to relax. That’s what this pain in my neck has been good for. It’s a reminder to be gentle with myself, a reminder that I’ve been through a lot. Most recently there was that car accident two years ago, but there were a few other car accidents before that. When I think of those, it makes sense that my neck is stiff, on high alert. It’s traumatized. I’m traumatized.

This is a sentence I’ve been getting comfortable with lately–I’m traumatized. Not as a badge of honor or like, oh, poor me, but as a simple fact. I’ve read a lot about trauma. Plus, having experienced it in many forms, I can say that often its result is freezing–a petrification, a stiffening of the body. As grandpa used to say, stiff in all the wrong places. Of course, it doesn’t take a car accident or even an emotional trauma to cause one’s body to lock up. It can happen if you spend years hunched over a desk or piano. All this being said, I truly believe that what can be frozen can be thawed out, to follow the metaphor. This is part of my frustration. I really believe that my body can heal, so I get all the more irritated when it doesn’t right this damn minute.

Another opportunity for patience.

One of the things my therapist and I often talk about is how life or the universe seems to test you when you say you want something. For example, after my declaring that I was tired of my ex’s immature bullshit, I was presented with a long string of inappropriate suitors. Because I was used to inappropriate behavior, I was deeply tempted to hang out–and more–with these fellas. Sometimes I actually did. Ultimately, I raised my standards not only in theory, but in practice. My point is that in a way life was saying, “Do you REALLY want something better, or are you going to settle?” Likewise, I’ve turned down a number of shit job opportunities because they either weren’t what I wanted to really do, or because the pay wasn’t enough. There have been times that people have asked me to lower my hourly dance rate. And sure, I could knock off 25 bucks instead of staying home and reading a book, but the truth is I’m worth my full rate–so that’s what it’s gonna take to get me off this couch.

My therapist says that even when she was first starting her practice, she refused to see certain potential clients. Even now she won’t work with couples, for example. Not that she doesn’t know how, but she doesn’t enjoy it. My point is that even though she could–in theory–be making more money, it’s more important for her to make money doing what she enjoys. And because she’s been purposeful about how she wants to spend her time–because she’s “followed her bliss”–she has as much business as she can handle. She says this is what abundance looks like–getting clear about what you want and sticking to your guns until the universe delivers.

Again, it seems the universe tests you when you want something–a better job, better health, better relationships. It puts you through “trials” because it has to know if you can handle that better thing you say you want, if you have integrity. In other words, are you going to compromise your standards?

My therapist says it’s been her observation that the people who are the least happy in their lives and jobs are the people who don’t stand up for themselves, speak their truth, and say what they want. Instead, they bite their tongue and accept whatever comes along. I understand this–I did it for a long time. But more and more it’s my goal to not settle in any area of my life. If this means sitting on my parents’ couch reading a book instead of suffering in some shit job working for some shit employer, then I’ll sit on my parents’ couch and turn pages until the day I die (sorry, Mom and Dad). I’d rather be poor than let my soul shrivel. If it means being alone instead of being with someone who refuses to treat me well, I’ll be alone. I like my own company just fine.

In the Bible there’s the story of a rich man whom Jesus told, “If you want to join me and my band of merry men, you’re first going to have to get yourself a pair of tights and then sell all your shit and give it to the poor.” (I’m paraphrasing and mixing fairy tales, of course.) One interpretation of this story is that it’s not so much about the man’s literal riches, but his mental riches. In other words, if you want what the Christ-mind offers, you’ve gotta divest your mind of all its previous notions and ideas about, well, everything. Because you can’t put new wine (new thoughts) in an old wineskin (old mind). In other words, if you want salvation, you’ve gotta start fresh.

Behold, all things are becoming new.

Along these lines (I think), Caroline Myss asks the question, “Is there anything you wouldn’t do to heal?” What if healing required leaving a toxic relationship, moving across the country, or quitting your job–would you do these things? Asked another way, is there anything you wouldn’t do for salvation? Because in my experience it’s not free. Indeed, when it comes to salvation (personal growth, individuation, peace of mind), life asks for everything you treasure–your lovers, your possessions, your friends. This is the story of Job. Give it up. Nothing belongs to you anyway. If it comes back to you, fine, but at least by that point–hopefully–you will have gotten clear about the fact that nothing external really matters. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. It’s always and forever, without exception, your soul that has the final say.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You've got to believe that things can turn around, that even difficult situations--perhaps only difficult situations--can turn you into something magnificent.

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