Unadulterated (Blog #790)

What to say, what to say? I’ve spent the day, most of it, with my face buried in my laptop, either reading books or looking at books on online stores or libraries. If I could do this every day, I’d be a happy camper. That being said, I’m sure my eyes would fall out, if my brain didn’t fall out first. At one point this evening I HAD to stop reading a fascinating book about Chartres Cathedral–did you know that the Notre Dame (Our Lady) cathedrals in France are laid out in relation to each other in the shape of the constellation Virgo?–because I was absolutely famished. Later I stopped to exercise. A body has to eat. A body has to move.

One of the books I read this afternoon was by Guy Kettelhack and was about–quite frankly–gay men and sex. And whereas I don’t intend to go into details (you’re welcome), the author had a lot to say about how we, as people in general, suppress or try to ignore various aspects of ourselves. Our sexuality, for instance. Because we think certain parts of ourselves are good and holy, and other parts of ourselves are wicked and vile. At the very least something we shouldn’t talk about on the internet. But Kettelhack says, “Every part of you is true.” The idea behind this statement, I think, is that even those desires, fantasies, and emotions we deem socially unacceptable, first of all, exist whether we want them to or not. Second, they exist because they have something to offer us. Third, and along the lines of yesterday’s blog, we’d do better to interact with all of our parts consciously rather than unconsciously.

Another thing Kettelhack says is that permission is letting yourself be who you already are. In terms of sexuality, I know that I’ve spent a lot of time (historically) trying to convince myself I wasn’t something I am–gay. But in other terms, I’ve also spent a lot of time trying to convince myself I wasn’t a number of other things–upset, angry, unhappy, even happy. This has caused me to distrust my own body and emotions and instead try to substitute who I am for what I’ve thought I should be–as told to me by the church, a self-help book, or even so-called friends. This is one of the worst things, I think, that a person could do–discount their own inherent wisdom, the truth of their experience because someone else says something different.

And yet it happens every day.

This isn’t to say that if you have a sexual urge or unpleasant emotion (like anger) that you should take it out on the world around you. But it is to say that you’ll get further by acknowledging how you really feel than by depressing your authentic desires and internal reactions. Recently I was considering confronting someone, and my therapist said, “Do you want to but feel like you ‘shouldn’t’?” And whereas that wasn’t the case, it reminded me of countless other situations in which I felt like I “shouldn’t” speak my truth or do what I really wanted to because it wasn’t socially appropriate, I imagined I’d hurt somebody’s feelings, or I was afraid someone wouldn’t like me.

It’s not your job to make anyone else happy.

The problem with this way of living, of course, is that it puts someone else’s imagined experience above your actual experience. Or even their actual experience above your actual experience. Either way, you’re the one who ends up suffering. I’ve known people–usually gay people–who have married someone just to make that person, their parents, or god happy. But here’s a slap in the face–it’s not your job to make another human being, your parents, or even god happy. (If god hasn’t figured out how to be happy after all this time, that’s his problem.) Indeed, you CAN’T make anyone else happy. Sure, maybe you can do something nice and evoke a smile, but when has anybody else been able to make YOU happy? Like, permanently, deep down? It just doesn’t work that way.

As the saying goes, happiness is an inside job.

Your inside job.

My therapist says that when you’re honest, first with yourself and then with others, you give both you and others a gift–the gift of you authentic response. By being honest (and the honest truth is different than your honest opinion), you give others permission to do the same. Because we all teach by example. Like, if I live a closeted life or pretend to be someone I’m not, I teach others that “this is the way.” But if I live an authentic life, one in which I speak my truth and honor my body and emotions, I naturally imply that it’s good and safe and right for others to do the same. I suggest, and I’m saying it clearly now, You don’t have to hide anything about yourself in order to be accepted or loved.

From my perspective, the world is lacking in honesty and authenticity. Granted, the words gets a lot of lip service these days. But if they were truly “a thing,” the world would be a different place. That is, if you think you have truth in your life and yet your life looks the same as it did ten, twenty, or thirty years ago, I’m gonna suggest maybe you don’t. Because truth is married to change. It comes into your life like a wrecking ball–it has to–in order to remove all that is false within you–your false perceptions, your false beliefs, your false relationships. This is why I pay my therapist so much money. My friends tell me, “Maybe it’ll work out. Give him a chance.” My therapist tells me, “He’s a fucking asshole. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but he is.” But I do want to hear it, even if it destroys my fantasies–because I’ve lived under illusions for decades and know they don’t lead anywhere but Pain and Suffering.

No, give me something honest. Give me something real. Turn my life upside down if you have to, but give me something true.

Back to the constellation Virgo being associated with gothic cathedrals. There’s a lot of theories as to why. For example, Virgo is associated with the spring (she’s technically a late summer zodiac sign, but she first appears in the sky in the spring), with new life (the new life you’ll have if you let truth wreck your old one). Also, Virgo is The Virgin. Again, the virgin birth is often used to symbolize the birth of one’s spiritual (rather than physical) life. And whereas virgins are immediately thought of as sexually pure, symbolically they remind me to be internally pure. Not pure as in text-book perfect, but pure as is wrecking-ball honest. Pure as in “I can handle the truth,” even if isn’t pretty or socially acceptable, which (here’s something that sucks) it rarely is. Pure as in unadulterated–integrated in all your parts; whole in your body, heart, and mind; complete .

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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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.

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One Little Thing (Blog #535)

Last night while star-spotting, I found Coathanger for the first time. Coathanger is an asterism (a group of stars that only WISHES it were an official constellation) that looks like a coat hanger (duh). Only visible through binoculars, Coathanger is located between Altair and Vega, two of the three stars in the Summer Triangle, which is also an asterism. Anyway, after driving out-of-town to the darkest spot I could find and panning the Summer Triangle with my binoculars for a few minutes, I finally found it. There it was–clear as day.

Er–clear as night, I guess.

I can’t tell you how excited I was about finding Coathanger, despite the fact that it was the only new star arrangement I clearly identified last night. I actually squealed out loud. Sure–it was just one little thing, but it WAS one little thing.

In yesterday’s blog I mentioned that I was going to try to get to bed EARLIER, exercise MORE, and drink beer and coffee LESS. Well, it’s twenty-four hours later, and that’s what I’ve done. After stargazing last night, I gave myself a bedtime–lights out by one in the morning. Oh my gosh, y’all, I slept great and actually woke up with a “certain amount” of enthusiasm. When I came bounding into the kitchen at ten-thirty with a smile on my face, Dad said, “What are YOU doing up?”

At breakfast I gave myself another “boundary”–no coffee after noon–since I read in Why We Sleep that caffeine has a half-life of seven hours, meaning that seven hours after you consume caffeine, fifty percent of it is still in your system. (I also read that caffeine doesn’t tell your body to wake up, but rather blocks the receptor sites in your brain and body that receive a self-produced chemical that tells your body to go to sleep.) Anyway, science is science and facts are facts, and I’ve decided that in light of the science and facts with which I’ve been presented, it clearly won’t do to keep consuming pints of coffee at all hours of the afternoon and evening.

So wish me luck.

For exercise today, I went for a walk/jog. And whereas I got home and my stomach STILL looked the same as it did before I left, I’m telling myself that’s okay–my goal is to be in better shape by the spring. That’s two seasons or twenty-four weeks away, which I figure is plenty of time to see results if I simply make several small, positive changes and STICK TO THEM. I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes, but I usually have a sense of when I’m “serious” about things, and it feels like I am.

It’s time for something different.

Today I read that during NREM (non rapid eye movement) sleep, your brain decides what’s important– what to keep and what to throw or away, what to move from short-term to long-term memory. (REM sleep is when your brain INTEGRATES what’s kept with what’s already there.) So after reading about this throw-away/keep process, I applied it to my Amazon Wish List, the place that for the last eight years I’ve collected hundreds of titles of books that have peaked my interest. Come on, Marcus, I thought, there’s NO WAY you’re ever going to read all these things. (This is called being honest with yourself.) PLUS, dozens of them don’t even look interesting anymore. So I deleted maybe half of them, which still left me with more books than I could possibly read even if reading were my full-time occupation.

It’s effective because it’s consistent.

What I like about the way NREM sleep works is that–ideally–it happens EVERY DAY (er–night). Like brushing your teeth or taking the trash out, it’s effective not because it’s this HUGE thing, but rather because it’s consistent. So I’m telling myself that I can be consistent too–about taking simple healthy actions, about periodically getting rid of what’s no longer useful, beneficial, or interesting. And whereas the process of change is often overwhelming to me, I’m trying to approach it as I approach learning about the stars, asterisms, and constellations–one little thing at a time, one little thing at a time.

[Astronomy screenshots by the Stellarium app. In the first one, Coathanger is labeled along the line between Altair and Vega. In the second one, you can still see Altair on the left, then Coathanger (unlabeled) on the right. HINT: There’s a big red circle around it.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes the best you can do is metaphorically sit you ego down, look it square in the eye, and say, “Would you shut the fuck up already?”

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Scheat Happens (Blog #476)

Last week, on Friday, July 13, my car Tom Collins and I (technically) celebrated our one-year anniversary. I “bought” him a year ago, although that sounds so trashy to say it like that. I like to think he CHOSE to be with me. Regardless, I was so distracted by our trip to Houston and Dallas that I COMPLETELY forgot about our important day. (So sorry, Tom.) Normally I’m stellar with dates and anniversaries, but in this case, I’m THAT guy.

Thankfully, Tom isn’t the type to hold a grudge.

Or maybe he is.

A few months ago, Tom’s “check engine” light came on. It’s a long story (which I’ve already told), but I ended up having his spark plugs replaced, and the light went off. But some days it will come on for maybe an hour or two, at most a day, then go off again. My mechanic said, “Don’t be concerned.” Well, on THE VERY MORNING of our anniversary, just as I was leaving Houston, that damned yellow light came on again. This time, Tom was kind of shuddering, which is what happened when this problem originally popped up. It’s like he was saying, “Hey, asshole, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Of course, I still didn’t remember.

Instead, I pulled over and turned off Tom’s engine. (Calm down, darling.) Then I started it back up, and the shuddering stopped. The light, however, has been on ever since. My family and I are leaving town in a few days to see my sister in Albuquerque, and since I’ve been needing an oil change anyway, I figured I could have everything–the oil and the engine light–looked at and taken care of at once. But since I’ve been doing odd jobs for some friends this week, I haven’t had time to attend to these matters.

Again, so sorry, Tom. Please forgive me.

Miraculously, the light went off yesterday, and my dad–thank God for fathers–arranged to have Tom’s oil changed and everything inspected. So last night I dropped Tom off at the shop a few blocks from our house and walked home, looking for stars the whole time. The constellation Pegasus is up after midnight or one, and it’s pretty easy to spot. It’s a huge square in the east, and I like it because it contains a star named Scheat (Beta Pegasi), which is probably pronounced “sheet,” but I pronounce “SHEE-AT.” (As in, Scheat, I forgot my anniversary.) If you’re looking at the screenshot below (from the Stellarium app), Scheat is the bright corner star just to the left of the label “Pegasus.”

This morning (well, afternoon), when I woke up, Tom Collins was ready to go. My dad had coordinated with the shop, and they’d done a clean-up for Tom’s insides. I’m not good with automobiles, but I’m picturing a car colon cleanse, something that flushes all the gunk out. Anyway, when Dad and I went to the shop to pick Tom up, the guy said the flush should take care of the engine light issue and that we were “all set” to go to Albuquerque.

Scheat happens.

Now it’s time for me to do more odd jobs. Most likely, I’ll be up late tonight–like Pegasus–then up early again tomorrow. The next few days promise to be a whirlwind. But this is life. Some days we rest, and there’s nothing to do. Other days it’s go-go-go. We forget anniversaries. Scheat happens. Meanwhile the stars slowly and calmly make their way through the heavens. One day rising and the next day falling, they don’t make a big deal about any of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s okay to ask for help.

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A Blanket of Stars (Blog #408)

Blah. That’s how I’ve felt all day today, probably because I partied hard last night. And whereas pizza and beer make you feel good in the moment, they apparently don’t make you feel good the next day. Since I woke up this morning, all I’ve wanted to do is lie around. So other than leaving my bedroom for two meals, that’s pretty much what I’ve done–stayed in bed to sleep in, stayed in bed to read a book, stayed in bed to take a nap (until our dog, Ella, barked her ever-loving butt off at whatever the hell was so important outside and woke me up).

Blah.

What sucks about feeling blah is that all your blah thoughts get together and put on a parade in your head. One by one they march across the theater of your mind as they kick up their heels and wave around their pom-poms of negativity. Your life sucks! Everything is falling apart! Gooooooo team! That’s about what things have sounded like in my head today. Real hopeful, I know.

This evening after taking Tom Collins (my car) to the car wash to clean him up for Mother’s Day tomorrow, I went for a run, three miles, I think. That helped a little, smelling the honeysuckle, burning up my frustrations under a blanket of stars. I’m really not a natural runner, but I love the way my feet strike the pavement. Starting off they’re heavy and awkward, then later they’re like a metronome, slow and steady. I guess there’s something about finding my rhythm on the road that makes me think one day I’ll find my rhythm in life as well.

Since getting home, I’ve been obsessed with my histamine levels. I spent a while rubbing some sore muscles, and my skin has been red and inflamed from the friction for over an hour. That’s not normal, I’ve been thinking, and I haven’t been able to stay off Google. I keep telling myself that I have doctors to figure this stuff out, but there’s such a large part of me that feels like I’ve got to do it on my own. I feel that way a lot, like I’m solely responsible for making my dreams come true, providing for myself, and even healing. As if I’m not part of a family, a community, or a universe.

As if I’m an island.

This “I’ll take care of it myself, damn it” attitude started when I was a child, I’m sure. Mom was sick and Dad was often absent, so my sister and I essentially raised ourselves. Personally, I see a lot of good that’s come out of this situation. For example, I’m highly independent and can think on my feet. I don’t mind going to the movies or eating out alone. Hell, I actually enjoy it. But the downside to doing everything by yourself for so long is that it not only makes it tough to trust other people, but also makes it tough (really tough) to ask for help. Isn’t that funny? There’s not a thing in this universe that doesn’t depend on something else for its existence, and yet admitting you’re not self-sustaining always feels so–so–embarrassing.

Or is that just me?

We all shine brighter together.

I guess we all want to be like the honeysuckle–wild, free, and never embarrassed. Likewise, we all want to feel connected, not just know it in our heads. Personally, I know logically that I’m not alone out here. I have a lot of support–my family, my friends, my therapist. And yet on blah days I have a hard time remembering that I’m connected, supported, and cared for. When you’ve raised yourself, it’s easy to forget that you’re part of something bigger. And yet surely every lone star belongs to a larger constellation, and surely we all shine brighter together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."