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

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Listening to Your Gut (Blog #298)

You know how sometimes people, especially southern people, will compliment you and insult you at the same time? Like, I just love that shirt you’re wearing! It completely covers up your muffin top. (Uh, thanks?) Well, I had something like this happen not too long ago. I ran into an acquaintance, and in the midst of catching up, they said something unkind about me. (I’m intentionally being vague.) It was said as a joke, and since we were in public, people nearby were laughing–hell, I was laughing. But as soon as it happened, I felt my solar plexus tighten up, the way it might if some guy in a van handed your toddler a lollipop or you were on the Titanic and felt ice-cold water rushing into your cabin. Like, Houston, we have a damn problem. The conversation quickly moved on and ended, but there was no denying what my gut–my physical body–was telling me. This person wasn’t joking–they were being a douchebag. Sure, they’d disguised their insult, but it was an insult still the same.

I walked away like, Thanks for this big wooden horse. Where did you say it came from again–Troy?

Today I had therapy and told my therapist about this situation, with more specifics than I’m including here. “Am I making something out of nothing?” I asked. “Am I just being sensitive?” My therapist said that no, I was reading things correctly. She said, “They weren’t even being a douchebag. Douchebags cut you off in traffic. They were being straight-up mean.” Then she said, “You may not have done anything about it in the moment or called them up later and gave them what-for, but it’s a really big deal that you instantly knew there was a problem and that your body is speaking to you like that.”

Honestly, I think we all know when something is “rotten in Denmark.” Caroline Myss says that our chakras, our energetic bodies, are always “scanning” our environment and giving us feedback. Like, You need to get out of here now, This job isn’t right for you, That guy can’t be trusted, or, Something’s wrong–call your mother. Most of these messages come through our third chakra (located at the solar plexus), a feedback loop which is alluded to in such statements as, “I can feel it in my gut,” and, “He makes me sick to my stomach.

Personally, I know that my gut has been talking me for a long time, but I also ignored it for a long time. Had the Trojan Horse deal happened five years ago, I would have thought about it for days and convinced myself they were just joking. I would have thought, They hugged me! As I understand it, a person’s relationship with their gut (or instinct or intuition) is like any relationship. It has to be nurtured. In other words, it’s not that your gut ever stops talking to you, but it only speaks loudly and clearly if you freaking listen it. This loudly and clearly part is what I’m currently focused on. I told my dad about this situation tonight, and he said, “Were you offended?” I said, “No, I wasn’t offended–I just KNEW I was being sold a pile of shit.”

The truth has to come first.

This quick-read, I think, is the result of all the work I’ve done in therapy and on this blog. As I see it, it’s the result of authenticity. The clearer you see what’s going on inside of you, the clearer you see what’s going on outside of you. It’s that simple. I’m not saying I’m the absolute-truth meter in all situations, but I am saying that the more I develop a rapport with the truth, the more it sets me free from everything unlike it, including “fake” relationships. This process isn’t always fun, and I don’t necessarily recommend it, but my therapist says the benefits “will serve you until you’re six feet under.” Plus, it beats inauthentic living and lying to yourself. I mean, whether it’s a run-in with a Trojan Horse, a bad relationship, or a miserable job, you can ultimately only do something about a problem when see it for what it actually is–a problem. And if anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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Socks and Days That Don’t Match (Blog #250)

Yesterday I wore the socks Bonnie knitted me for my birthday. They don’t match–intentionally, she said, since life isn’t “perfect.” When I got home from therapy yesterday, I followed my therapist’s suggestion–I took a nap. Then I spent the evening watching two movies. The first, The Pursuit of Happyness, starred Will Smith and told the true story of a man who went from living on the streets to becoming a millionaire stock broker. Everything about this story made my heart sing. The second movie, The Words, was about a writer who wrote a story about a writer who found another writer’s manuscript (about his true love and their child who died), published it as his own, and became famous. If you’re confused, you should be. The movie had its moments–wonderful acting–but it was like playing with a set of Russian nesting doll–stories inside of stories.

The fact that my friend Justin recommended The Words should come as no surprise. (Justin is notorious for recommending “meh” movies.) “Justin, that vampire movie you told me to watch was terrible. I just can’t trust your cinema wisdom after that experience,” I said last week. “No, this movie will be different,” he said.

“Trust me,” he said.

Last night I was in bed at the time I usually start writing. I think I slept for eleven or twelve hours. And whereas I don’t feel like a daisy today–I have a headache–I do feel better. As much as getting some sleep, I think it has to do with finishing the blog earlier than normal. I guess it was creating a certain amount of stress, especially on days that were full of activities. It’d be three in the morning, I’d be worn out, and I’d think, Oh yeah, I still have that to do. Now it’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I plan to be done with today’s blog by three-thirty. Earlier today I unsubscribed from a number of email lists, and I’m looking at that action the same way I’m looking at knocking the blog out while the sun’s still shining–a little action I can take to alleviate stress and relieve tension.

I mean, it all adds up.

Another thing I’m doing is changing the music I’m listening to while blogging. Normally I listen to instrumental music. Always the same, it’s something a friend gave me once–spiritual music. There are supposed to be seven tracks–one for each chakra–but one of the files is missing. Shit, that’s probably why I’ve felt so out of balance lately–I don’t have the heart chakra file. Anyway, today I’m listening to James Brown, and I’m finding that he’s just as spiritual. Yesterday I told my therapist that I feel stuck, what with living at home and having been sick for so long. She said, “Marcus, everything changes. You won’t be there forever. You won’t be here in this office forever.”

One day a change will come.

Today’s blog is number 250. That’s 250 days in a row of straight blogging. The goal is a year, and whether or not I make it, I do realize that one day I’ll leave my laptop shut, not write a word for the world to see. Maybe I’ll be sick in the hospital, or maybe I’ll be drinking a cup of coffee and watching Days of Our Lives with my dad, but it’ll be that simple. One day a change will come, if for no other reason than that’s the way life works. Like a pair of mismatched socks, one day doesn’t mirror the one next to. Life isn’t “perfect,” at least if you think perfect is having two socks or days that match.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.

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