Living, Not Labeling (Blog #772)

This morning I woke up at 9:45 (!), much earlier than what I’m used to. It’s a tough life. But I’m not complaining–this was my choice–my dad had plans to take my aunt to Oklahoma to visit her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, and I wanted to tag along. So after a quick breakfast (toast with peanut butter and a cup of coffee), I got myself together and that’s what I did. Or, that’s what we did, rather–hit the road for two hours, met my cousin in a McDonald’s parking lot, dropped off my aunt and all (!) her luggage, and turned right around to come back.

We’re in the car now.

For most of the ride, I’ve been reading an honest-to-god book. Lately most of my reading has been on my laptop, but that’s tougher to do in a car. Plus, I enjoy the satisfaction of turning a page versus scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Dad and I are getting close to home. Maybe thirty minutes ago I put down my book and pulled out my laptop to blog. However, internet (my hot spot) sucks in Oklahoma, so it took forever to get connected. This happened last night, and my first inclination (my habit) is always to spit. But I’ve been realizing how important it is to not get swept away by every emotion that knocks on your door and offers to take you out on the town and show you a good time. So rather than spit, I looked up, took in the scenery, listened to the radio, and felt the cool breeze of the air conditioner on my skin.

Sometimes our family dog, Ella, just sits and stares. “I wonder what she’s thinking,” Dad has said a number of times. Well, apparently, she’s not. I’ll explain. Recently I talked about an attention technique called Open Focus. The idea is that rather than narrowly focusing on one thing (your damn internet problems, for example), you can “open focus” on multiple things (sights, sounds, feelings, smells, thoughts, and emotions) simultaneously. And it’s not like you’re trying to ignore whatever it is that’s stressing you out. Rather, you broaden your focus and INCLUDE it. For me, whenever I do this, two things happen. First, I immediately feel more calm and connected (even if my internet isn’t). Second, whatever it is that’s bothering me is put into perspective. That is, rather than my entire world being my frustrations, my entire world becomes partly my frustrations but MOSTLY the fact that I’m riding in a car, it’s cloudy out, there’s a song on the radio, and so on.

Thinking is not required.

To be clear, whenever I open focus, it’s not like I’m labeling everything that’s going on. There are drops of rain on the windshield. The flowers on the side of the highway are yellow. That’s what my mind WANTS to do, of course, but thinking is not required to EXPERIENCE life in this present moment. That was my point about our dog and the idea that she’s probably NOT thinking whenever she just sits and stares. Rather, she’s most likely simply noticing and experiencing being right here, right now, free of thought or inner commentary.

Inner commentary. Or hell, even outer commentary. There’s a can of worms we could open, and I guess I just have. In terms of inner commentary, just notice how much hell you can create for yourself by labeling what happens in your life. Not like, There’s a green tree, but like, This is a TOUGH life, I’m so fat (and that’s BAD), Things will never get better (and that’s BAD too). I’m talking about the knowledge of good and evil, how you can kick yourself out of the garden whenever you take a fact (like how much you weigh) and turn it into a GOOD fact or a BAD fact.

In terms of an outer commentary, I once went to a spiritual/personal development workshop where we had to pair off and listen to each other’s problems. But we could only listen. “You’re not allowed to give advice,” the workshop leader said. Try this sometime. It’s excruciating. Your ego hates keeping its mouth shut. We like to think we know stuff. But by keeping quiet, you provide someone a space where they can actually hear themselves. This is what my therapist does. She doesn’t interrupt. And it’s affirming. By being allowed to speak, I’m given the message that I have everything I need to figure things out. I don’t need someone else to tell me what to do. And neither do you. Each of us inherently wise.

When I started blogging earlier, I didn’t think I had anything to say. Of course, this is never true. After two full years of daily writing, I know there’s always something in The Well That Never Runs Dry. All you have to do is dip into it. I’m talking about life. This is something I’m currently learning, that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, there’s life to experience–to see, to smell, to taste, to hear, and to feel. All you have to do is notice. What’s going on right here, right now? (Just look around. See if you’re not fascinated.) And, again, try not to label it. Life is meant for living, not labeling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

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Some Days You Feel Like a Nut (Blog #209)

Dear Friends, I’ve been awake for twelve hours and haven’t done a damn thing, but it feels like I’ve been awake for three days. I’m not exactly sure that I feel worse than I’ve felt for the last week, but I certainly don’t feel better. I guess you know you’re sick when you see a donut on Facebook and all you can think is, That looks like it would take a lot of energy to pick up. I don’t know where all this snot and blood in my nose is coming from. When I woke up this morning, it was like my sinuses had “ordered-in” more junk, had some extra mucus delivered for the upcoming holidays. Surely the stuff I’ve been sniffing, hacking, and coughing hasn’t been coming from inside me.

Obviously the miracle I requested before I went to bed last night got stuck in the mail. Perhaps I should have specified that I needed it delivered Express. Maybe it’ll show up tomorrow.

I wish I had something exciting to report, but I haven’t left the house all day. Since I spent the day reading, I’ve barely left the bed. Granted, it’s just one day horizontal, but I’m starting to feel like one of Charlie’s grandparents in Willy Wonka and Chocolate Factory–completely bedridden, thinking, Will I ever be vertical again? Where is my golden ticket? Speaking of golden, I did pee a lot today. This, I suppose, was the natural consequence of drinking enough fluid to water a California Redwood during the month of August. I don’t remember the last time I ingested so much water, black tea, green tea, and dandelion tea.

I’m sure my kidneys don’t either.

I don’t think I watched a lick of television while I was on vacation. Well, I did watch part of a Disney cartoon with my nephews. But when I woke up today, Dad was watching “his soap,” Days of Our Lives, so I watched it while I ate breakfast. This is often the case when I’m at home, so I’m starting to recognize characters and plot lines. Today I even asked Dad about a specific character, wanting to know what went on while I was out-of-town. Personally–and I’m not judging if you’re addicted to a soap opera, but–I consider this a low point in my life. I really thought I’d at least have an AARP card before this happened. Really, isn’t watching a soap opera a gateway drug to becoming a senior citizen? What’s next, eating dinner at The Golden Coral at three in the afternoon?

Today I read so much that my eyes now feel like sandpaper, and I imagine that if I read even forty-three more words my brain would liquefy and run out of my ears and onto the kitchen tile. Our dog, Ella, would probably lap it up, and my last thought would be, There goes my brain–it’s been real. It’s been real–that’s what a guy told me a couple years ago after we went on two or three dates. I said, “It’s been wonderful getting to know you,” and he flashed me the peace sign and said, “It’s been real.” This person had been given a driver’s license–he was in college. Of all the words in the English language, those are the only three he could string together?

Seriously, straight ladies, how do you put up with my gender?

Most of my reading today consisted of David Sedaris, David Sedaris, and David Sedaris. But I also finished a book about writing, read a chapter in a self-help book, and started a book about the world’s religions. Considering I’ve had the religions book for longer than I can remember, I don’t know why I just started reading it today. Who can say why anything happens? Anyway, all the information was a lot to process for this tired brain and body, so I had to take a nap in between David Sedaris and Hinduism.

During the nap I dreamed I was in an open field, climbing on some oil barrels. Flying in the air was a giant spacecraft shaped like an acorn. Considering whiskey has never given me a dream like this, I’m blaming the green tea. Regardless of where the dream came from, I’ve been chewing on the meaning of it for a few hours. The first thing that came to mind when I thought about the flying acorn was “stored energy,” which I guess would apply to the oil barrels too. When I looked up acorns on an online dream dictionary, it said they represent potential–something small that can grow into something big. So despite the fact that I currently don’t feel very energetic, I’m taking this dream as a positive sign (auspicious, as my therapist would say) that I have a lot of energetic reserves and plenty of potential for growth.

As for the part about the acorn flying? Well, I guess the sky’s the limit.

In the book about religions, it said that because one moment is constantly dying to the next, our days are filled with funerals and rebirths. Seen in this light, I suppose the person who crawled out of bed this morning is no longer alive, and a different one is typing at the table now. Likewise, I hope this one will pass away and a healthier one will wake up tomorrow. Surely if our bodies can fill our sinuses with snot and our heads with dreams, anything is possible. We spend our days worrying about how we feel, what other (stupid) people say to us, and all of our soap operas. But every bit of that stuff is outside of us, and what matters is inside. This is where our true potential lies, the place where anything can happen, the place where acorns become oak trees.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s never too late to be your own friend.

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