This Is Your Spiritual Journey (Blog #1035)

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A few months ago I started a new 1,000-piece puzzle. And whereas I got most of the border completed, the puzzle has honestly sat unloved and unattended to ever since. Until today. This afternoon I plopped my read end down on our futon, hunched over our coffee table, blew the dust off the puzzle box, and went to work. For five solid hours I labored, putting the border back together (someone–my father–recently knocked the puzzle off the table), hunting for pieces with similar colors, looking for perfect matches. Aren’t we all looking for perfect matches?

Now, did I get finished? Hell no. But I certainly made progress.

This evening I helped a friend publish their business’s website. Over a month ago we designed the site but got stuck because we ended up renaming their business during the design process. Well, this meant we needed, or at least wanted to, pick out a new .com address, and that’s always a pain in the butt because most the good ones are taken (.com names, not butts). For example, marcuscoker.com is taken (by me), so if you wanted a website named marcuscoker.com, you’d just have to think of something else. Maybe marcuscoker01.com or marcuscocker.com, which is what all the telemarketers call me. (Of course, it’d be weird for YOU, someone who’s NOT named Marcus Coker, to have a site named after ME, someone who is.) Anyway, my friend and I got together tonight to brainstorm website names, and for over an hour we were like, “No, that’s not it. Uh, close, but no cigar. Crap, what are we gonna do?”

Finally, my friend suggested something, and we were both like, “Yeah, that’s it. I really like that.” Then we checked to make sure the domain name was available, and it was. So they bought it. Then, after a good while chatting with tech support, we got the site published. Are there still changes to be made and work to be done? Sure.

But we made a lot of progress.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about endings and beginnings, I guess because this blog will be ending soon (two months from tomorrow will be my last consecutive post), and another project–I’m guessing–will begin. Yes, something else will begin. Something always does. Indeed, I already have a few projects up my sleeve. I just don’t know which one will call mostly loudly for my attention. That’s the deal with creative endeavors. More often than not, you don’t tell them what’s up, they tell you what’s up. For example, I’ve made it a practice to sit down and write every day, and–yes–I have certain parameters I work within. (Like, I talk about me and my therapist. I don’t talk about celebrity gossip or cornbread recipes.) But within these parameters, what I write about is usually dictated TO ME.

What I mean is that I have an internal creative compass that points me in this or that direction, tells me when I’m on or off center. It says, “No, that’s not it. Start again. Delete that paragraph.” It says, “That’s it, you’re done. Don’t you dare write another word.” As strange as this process may sound, it’s not. We all know when a night out with our friends is over, or when a relationship is. We don’t even have to say we’re done (because the other person knows too), we can just start packing up our things. More and more, I can’t advise listening to this inner wisdom–your inner wisdom–enough. In essence, this IS your spiritual journey, learning to follow your own divine compass. That still, small voice that tells you, “Go here, don’t go there. Do this, don’t do that.” The one that tells you when pieces fit, when pieces don’t. The one that tells you when something’s a perfect match or not.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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The Game of Life (Blog #989)

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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.

Don’t bother telling him they’re not real.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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On Creating (Blog #584)

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Yesterday I picked my laptop up from the repair store. And whereas we originally thought the liquid-damage repair would involve replacing the keyboard and cost $250, they were able to fix it with a simple cleaning, which cost $65. Woowho! Thank you, Peter, Paul, and Mary!

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

Last week I blogged about The Unexpected, an annual mural-painting project in downtown Fort Smith. Well, one of the muralists, Alexis Diaz, had to leave before completing his project. (It was raining, and paint doesn’t dry well in the rain.) Anyway, he’s been back in Fort Smith this weekend, and I stopped by yesterday after picking up my laptop to take a look. Check it out.

Here’s a picture slightly closer up that includes the artist (on the lift). I can’t wait to go by this week to see his finished product.

After viewing the mural, I went to a brand-spanking new venue for local artists called Eleventh Street. It’s on Eleventh Street (duh), and two of my friends opened it so local teachers, students, and other artists can have a place to create, display, and even sell their work. I think it’s such a great idea. Anyway, this is where I spent the rest of the evening, getting a tour from my friends, talking about their ideas for the place, and hanging out.

And by hanging out I mean, drinking wine out of a box.

Check out these cool masks. I think (?) they were done by local high school students. (How many more times can you say local, Marcus?) My favorite is on the top row, the next to last one on the right, the one with its mouth sewn (or stapled) shut. I guess I like it because it’s how I felt for most of my life–speechless, voiceless, unable to communicate my truth. Of course, all that’s changed now (and continues to change), so even better that the mask is pale white, the color of a ghost or that which is past.

Here’s a picture of a cool mural painted on one of the building’s walls. It was done by a–uh–nearby artist. Make up your own life lesson. (Be sure to share it in the comments).

This afternoon I worked more on my photo-organizing project and got really hung up when I couldn’t decide if one particular roll of film was taken in the summer of 2000 or the summer of 2001. Finally, I said, “Fuck it,” labeled it with a question mark, and moved on with my life. I mean, who really cares? That was almost twenty years ago.

Tomato, tomato.

After working on the project for a couple hours, I thought about pushing myself and finishing another storage bin of pictures. (I’m working on one Rubbermaid storage bin at a time). But that sounded like work, and since the project has so far been fun, I decided to wait. What’s my hurry? As long as I finish by the beginning of spring I will have met my goal, and chances are I’ll finish before Thanksgiving at my current rate. Maybe sooner.

This evening my parents sent me on a Walmart run, which was fine. It’s always good to have an excuse to shower and get out of the house. Plus, they bought dinner–Subway. Afterwards I’d intended to blog–like, knock it out–then watch a movie. It’s one of those days. But then I realized I have bills due tomorrow, so spent nearly two hours paying bills, cleaning up old emails, and getting my laptop back in order.

Sometimes I get on a roll.

Now it’s 10:30, and I’m ready for that movie. I don’t have a “deep thought” to close with. (Some days you just show up and go through the motions.) I do, however, have something to ponder that’s perhaps fitting considering all the art I looked at yesterday and even the photo-project I’ve been working on lately. My therapist told me once that if you’re NOT challenging your mind by learning something new or otherwise growing yourself, you WILL create drama by calling your friends to gossip or otherwise stirring up trouble–like, online. In other words, since humans are naturally creative beings, if you’re NOT creating something positive in your life, you WILL create something negative.

So that’s the question I’ve been asking myself lately–Exactly what do I WANT to create?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a power that comes when you meet life’s challenges head-on. Those are the times you breathe the deepest. Those are the times the waters come forth and your heart beats every bit as loud as the thunder claps. Those are the times you know more than ever—no matter what happens next—in this moment, you’re alive.

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