All Bad Moods Pass Away (If We Let Them) (Blog #1030)

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Today was a repair day. What I mean is that I spent the afternoon fixing things around the house, broken this-and-thats that have been crying out for my attention for quite some time (help us, help us!), but–you know–you’re not always in the mood to fix a leaky toilet. So you let it drip, drip, drip into the bowl. All day and all night, the water runs. Slowly, but it runs. Your utility bill goes up. A little, but it goes up.

One thing leads to another.

Along these lines, I didn’t MEAN to fix two lamps, a sink, and my parents’ leaky toilet today. I just got on a roll. I started with one lamp and kept thinking, Well, while I’m at it. One trip to Lowe’s and two trips to Walmart later, it was all done. No more lamps with faulty sockets. No more leaky toilet or kitchen sink.

Now we can see, pee, and clean debris (from our plates).

After I finished fixing one of the lamps today, my mom expressed her gratitude by telling me a story, about our friend Randy who used to travel once a year from Baltimore to visit his parents in Arkansas (he doesn’t anymore because both he and his parents are dead). “Randy said each year he’d find more and more things in his parents’ home in disrepair,” Mom said. “As you get older, you just can’t keep up with everything that breaks. Take that lamp you just fixed, for example. If it weren’t for you, we never would have used it again.” And whereas I appreciate my mom’s appreciation and am happy to put things back together, what I’ve been thinking about this evening is the fact that everything, by design, falls apart. Even if you take care of your stuff and have a live-in handyman, sooner or later all material objects (and people) go the way of the dinosaurs.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t take care of your shit or patch the holes in your jackets. You should. I’m just saying, you’re fighting a losing battle.

One thing that occurred to me tonight is that just like our physical things eventually dissolve or pass away, so do our mental stories and emotional states. Who hasn’t had the experience of being totally pissed off one day and waking up the next day (or week) completely fine? Looking back, you think, What was I so upset about? Well, where did you bad mood go? Down the toilet, that’s where.

All bad moods pass away.

Unless–and perk up here because this is my major point–we keep “fixing” them. What I mean is that if you’ve been carrying a resentment or holding a grudge for one, two, or thirty years, it’s only because you’ve been “repairing” it, nursing it back to life every time it starts to die. Once I had a dear woman tell me that for decades she’d be laying one particular concern at the feet of the cross. I didn’t say it at the time, but I thought, Why do you keep picking it back up?! Of course, I do this too, not only with my judgments about other people (and they did this, and this, and this), but also with my judgments about myself and what’s possible in my life. I think, I’ll always be this (too sick too poor) because I always have been. And yet that’s just a story I’ve told myself over and over again, a fairy tale that would gladly slip out of my hands if I’d let it, a fable that would naturally fall apart if I’d only stop putting it back together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.

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Our Emotions Go Round and Round (Blog #1024)

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For the last three weeks I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas I woke up yesterday feeling better (yippee), I woke up today feeling worse (boo). Why knows why this up-and-down happens. The body is a mystery. Life is a mystery. More and more, I have more questions than answers. Recently I compared life to a circle, and this is what I meant. For all our living and learning, we’re just going round and round. One day we wake up and find ourselves exactly where we started.

We think, Ugh. I’m going nowhere!

At least that’s what I thought when I woke up still sick. Like I’ve been stuck in this pattern of upper respiratory distress for decades, and all the doctors, drugs, and gods and in the world can’t change it. That’s right, folks, we’ve discovered the impossible thing to get rid of. Mucus. (It’s here to stay.) But seriously, it’s overwhelming. At least when I think of the rest of my problems. This afternoon I got something in the mail I’d ordered online, and it was broken. Then I got a bill I wasn’t expecting. I just kept thinking, WHEN is something going to go my way?

Not that SOME things haven’t been going well lately. Indeed, I’ve blogged a lot about having headaches, and they’ve gotten SO VERY MUCH better over the last two months. Over the holidays I went weeks without working (and, therefore, earning any money), and this week alone I’ve picked up six different odd jobs. And I didn’t solicit any of them. Well, I did pray. My point being that even when one area of your life seems like it’s falling apart (seems being the operative word), another area of your life can be coming together. And surely if one area of your life can come together, the others can too. It’s just a matter of time, of patience, of remembering–

the universe hasn’t forgotten me.

Just now I said that something in your life can SEEM like it’s falling apart, the implication being that, well, maybe it’s not. What I mean is that, for example, for as frustrating as sinus infections are for me, they’ve taught me how to accept myself and how to ask for help. Just as importantly, they’ve taught me how to have compassion for others. Because all of us have that one thing that seems like a small thing to other people but is a big thing for us because it’s tied to so many other things in our lives. (Phew.) Like the way my sinus problems feel unsolvable, so, especially when I’m sick, all my problems feel unsolvable. Because if I can’t feel well then I can’t work and take care of myself and pay my bills and have a place to live and find a lover who isn’t into hobos.

See what I mean? One fear leads to another.

Overwhelming.

At times like these it’s important for me to remember to slow down, to slow way down, to slow way the fuck down. Like fast (haha). This looks like doing one thing–and one thing only–at a time. For example, this evening I have a dance gig (it’s good to be employed), so I’m blogging now, dancing tonight, and then that’s it for the day. Despite the number of other projects that are calling for my attention, they won’t get it. Rather, my body will. Meaning I’ll rest. Meaning I’ll do my best to allow my fears to arise, stay and be felt as long as they want to, then subside. Because they always do. Our emotions go round and round. In the end, we’re left with ourselves.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries are about starting small, enjoying initial successes, and practicing until you get your relationships like you want them. 

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On Mirages and Illusions (Blog #1009)

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Recently my friend Aaron, who’s an absolute clothes horse but is also trying to minimize, gifted me several pairs of shoes. (Lucky for me we’re the same size.) Y’all, in one night, he doubled my collection. “Some of them are kind of beat up,” he said, “but they should clean up nicely.” Well, last night and today I went to work scrubbing, washing, and polishing one pair at a time, and Aaron was right. They’re going to work out just fine. Are they pristine/perfect? No, but they’re pretty swell.

Thanks, Aaron.

Lately I’ve been talking about how everything falls apart sooner or later, and yesterday I referred to physical objects as mirages. That is, you can spiff up your kicks with a new set of laces, but don’t fool yourself, it’s days are numbered. If it’s on this earth, it was designed–to dissolve. This means NOTHING is pristine/perfect.

I hate this as much as you do.

In an effort to accommodate all my new days-numbered footwear, this afternoon I added a shelf to my closet by taking a metal shelf from our garage and attaching it to the wooden shelves I already have. And whereas my dad said it looks tacky because all the shelves don’t match, I figure I’m the one who has to look at it and, although I certainly appreciate excellence in craftsmanship and would adore something fancier, it’s better than heaping my shoes on top of one another. What’s the saying? It’s good enough. Plus, since we didn’t have any spare wooden shelves lying around, I’m rather proud of myself for solving my storage dilemma without having to spend any money.

You know, I’m living–wait for it–on a shoestring budget.

One thing I’ve been thinking and meaning to write about lately is the idea that just as physical objects are mirages, so are we. And whereas I mean that our days are numbered too, I also mean that every day we get up, get dressed, and put on a show. We hide this body “flaw,” we cover up that emotion. With makeup, with jewelry, with a new pair of shoes. People ask us how we’re doing, and we smile and say, “Couldn’t be better. Finer than frog hair.” Even if we’re falling part. And whereas I don’t think there’s anything wrong with putting your best foot forward, lately I’ve been reminding myself to not automatically assume someone else is “better” than me or has their shit together just because they have their outfit together. Just because they say they’re great. You know, don’t compare your inside to someone else’s outside.

Because you never know what’s going on with someone.

This evening I flipped through a copy of GQ Magazine, and y’all, some of the clothes those celebrities wear cost more than I make in a month. In one photo Jennifer Lopez was sporting a necklace that cost as much as our house. My point being that especially in a magazine largely supported by advertisers, these images are mirages, illusions specifically crafted and designed to make us feel and believe that we’d be better off (sexier, happier, more lovable) if only we had THOSE clothes or THAT life. Now, I don’t fault them for doing this, since we do this to each other all the time. Wouldn’t you be better off with a wooden shelf instead of a metal one? Or married, pregnant, with a job, or in a different city? And so on. Instead of just being happy with the way things are right there, right now.

Instead of just being happy with the way YOU are right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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On Everything Falling Apart (Blog #1004)

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Lately I’ve had a phrase stuck in my mind–smoke and mirrors. A few days ago I mentioned there’s a hole in my bathroom wall that’s covered up by a bookshelf, and this is what I mean. In reality there’s a blemish, but–presto change-o–now you see it, now you don’t. Y’all I use smoke and mirrors constantly. I use furniture to hide animal stains on rugs, magic markers to fill in scuff marks on shoes, and shoes to hide holes in socks. And don’t even get me started on the one-size-up clothes I wear to hide holiday pie.

I’ve even been known to wear concealer to cover up zits.

As most of you know, especially those of you who wear makeup, using smoke and mirrors is an uphill battle. The older you get, the harder you have to try. This morning, afternoon, and evening I helped a friend begin to organize their rather large personal library and, in the process, damaged a book cover. I was flipping through the pages, and it just snapped right in half. “Don’t worry,” my friend said. “Those covers [part of a particular series] are extremely brittle. They just keep falling apart.”

“I guess we all do,” I said.

Whether in terms of physical objects or material bodies, my point is that everything on planet earth (and in the universe) is slowly or quickly deteriorating. Nothing’s permanent. We can fool ourselves into thinking things will last, we will last, but they won’t, we won’t. You know how you can pick up a dandelion parachute (the white tuft thingy full of seeds) and, if the wind is blowing, it will disintegrate before your eyes? Well, this is what’s happening to everything and to all of us. Even if we can’t see it, we’re falling apart. Now, we may hide this fact and–somehow or other–get eighty or ninety years. We may even pass our book collections and antique pieces of furniture on to our children. But sooner or later the jig’s up for both us and our stuff.

As Kansas so aptly stated, “All we are is dust in the wind.”

At one point today my friend said, “Here’s a stack of books I’ll probably never use but am just not ready to get rid of.” Y’all, I totally get it. A few years ago I sold or gave away of over 80 percent of my worldly possessions and yet often still have trouble letting go. I look at a few of my books and pieces of jewelry and think, I’m taking YOU to the grave. Of course, this is nonsense. Ultimately, we don’t get to hang on to anything in this life–not our books, not our jewelry, not our Pink Floyd records. Not even our bodies. Whether by choice or by force, we eventually have to let go.

So all the better if we can, as my gay Uncle Randy used to say, set it free.

Now, does this mean that I’m going to voluntarily get rid of what little I have left (which is a lot by much of the world’s standards)? Does this mean I’m suggesting we all have estate sales? Hell no. But I am suggesting we do whatever we can to let go mentally and emotionally whether or not we let go physically. For me this looks like allowing myself to get excited about and enjoy physical objects (including my body and–sometimes, but not nearly enough, dear lord–the bodies of others), but not allowing myself to buy into the incorrect notion that any one thing or group of things can or will provide me with everlasting happiness. Indeed, I’m convinced that if it all disappeared tomorrow–my books, pictures, and clothes–I’d still have everything I need to live a joyful and content life.

Albeit a naked one.

More and more I think there’s nothing wrong with owning stuff as long as your stuff doesn’t own you. Like, does it add to your life, or take away from it? Is it a burden? This morning I was driving to my friend’s and noticed ALL THE TREES along the way. Like, there wasn’t just one tree or two trees, there was an abundance of them. So I don’t think we can rightly say that God is a minimalist. That being said, he’s clearly not ATTACHED to things either. This evening I watched an absolutely glorious sunset–full of purples, reds, oranges, and yellows. I wanted to hang on, stretch it out, take a picture. Buy a souvenir! Not God, however. He just let it go. Like, No big deal. Let’s forget it ever happened. Because he gets how things work here. Everything that’s born, dies. Period. The wind carries us all away.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Freedom lies on the other side of everything you're afraid of.

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On Letting Go and Moving On (Blog #1001)

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Last night’s blog was #1000 in a row. (Woowho.) And whereas my average post takes about two hours to write, last night’s took four. I think it was five in the morning when I finally published it, shared it to social media, and wound down. While writing I told myself I was going to go for a celebratory walk when it was all said and done. However, later I was so tired that I never made it past the end of the driveway. Still, I played some music on my phone and danced under the new moon. Then I came inside, curled up in bed, and promptly began snoring.

This is how I party.

This afternoon I helped my parents clean our house–dust furniture, wash dishes, scrub the bathtub. Honestly, this was the perfect thing. One because it’s easy to let things pile up, and cleaning is a good opportunity to throw this away, put that in its proper place. Two because it was a reminder that life goes on. Just because you’ve had a big milestone (or tragedy) doesn’t mean there isn’t trash to take out. Indeed, these are things I’ve often encouraged (preached) here–getting your relationships in order, taking out your emotional garbage, moving on with your life. I have a friend who’s insistent on taking down their Christmas decorations the day after Christmas. This is the same idea. Like, the holidays are over. What’s next?

Along these lines of moving on, this afternoon in an effort to get some wrinkles out of one of our area rugs, I tried ironing it. Y’all, this was the wrong thing to do, since apparently the rug had some plastic in it and plastic and heat don’t go together. “Crap,” I told Dad, “I just melted this corner like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We’ll put the coffee table over it. Besides, it’ll give your mother an excuse to buy a new one.”

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

“Get over it,” he said. “It’s not important.”

Still, I started to self-flagellate. I should have known better and all that. But recently I’ve been asking myself the question, “How long do you want this to last? How long do you want to suffer?” Like, when someone cuts you off in traffic or cheats on you with your best friend, you know that AT SOME POINT you’re going to stop crying about it and start laughing. Even if it’s twenty years from now. (If instead you know that you’re going to be stuck right there in that moment forever–bitter, angry, resentful, and unforgiving for the rest of your life–that’s a problem.) Anyway, my point is that you can decide–I’m going to be upset about this for an afternoon, a week, or a month and then let it go. Getting back to the rug I screwed up today, I decided I’d let it go within the hour.

And I did.

Consequently, although I ruined the rug, or at least one corner of it, it didn’t ruin my day.

My suggestion: try this technique with something small before you try it with something big.

After my dad and I put the coffee table on the melted rug, I started thinking about all the other things in our home that are less than perfect. Like, the wood under the kitchen sink is rotted out because the sink’s been leaking and we just found out about it (we shut the cabinet door so no one will see the damage). The sheetrock in my bathroom has hole in it from where we hung one too many heavy objects on a screw (I positioned a large shelf over the hole). There’s termite damage on one of the baseboards in the sitting room (we put a futon in front of it). Anyway, my point is that things are always falling apart on planet earth–houses, material possessions, relationships, bodies. And whereas I don’t recommend covering all the damage up strictly to maintain appearances (because some things should be repaired or handled directly), I do recommend not getting stuck when things aren’t perfect. I do recommend moving on.

Because if it’s on planet earth–if it’s a material object–it wasn’t DESIGNED to last forever.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All emotions are useful.

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On Anxiety, Myths, and Divine Timing (Blog #841)

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It’s eleven at night, and I just turned on my “blogging music.” This morning started off slowly–I slept in, ate breakfast, then read over a hundred fifty pages in The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. It’s fabulous, about the idea that life is inherently anxiety-inducing and that myths help us not only make sense of our world, but also alleviate that anxiety. Too much anxiety in your life? You need a different myth, a different viewpoint, a different psychological construct from which to see things.

A different set of glasses.

Honestly, I could have spent the entire day reading. I can’t tell you what a sense of accomplishment and joy I get when I finish an entire book in one day. Alas, this was not to be. For weeks I’ve been telling myself that I’d put down my books and finally do a few things–respond to emails, go to the bank and the post office, shit like that. Well, I finally did these things this afternoon. And whereas I started to give myself a hard time for not doing them sooner, I didn’t because recently I’ve been thinking about divine timing.

I’ll explain.

Byron Katie says that when you argue with reality, you lose–but only one hundred percent of the time. This means that if you think you SHOULD be running errands (and you aren’t) or that you SHOULD HAVE run errands sooner than you did, you’re going to experience stress. Why? Just one simple reason–it’s not the truth. The truth is you’re not running errands, or that you didn’t run them sooner than you did. This is what I mean by divine timing. Things happen when they happen. We can SHOULD and SHOULD HAVE all day long, but that just produces anxiety. This is the myth of I’m not doing things right, the myth of I did something wrong, and the myth of I’m a bad person, I’m a worm.

Going back to divine timing, I can’t tell you the number of times things have shown up in my life at just the right moment. For example, not too long ago I got an unexpected check for nearly three hundred dollars in the mail, the result of one of those silly class-action lawsuit postcards that I fill out now and then (and usually result in a check for $2.87). Well, that three hundred bucks totally saved my ass. The same thing happened over Christmas this last year when I needed to pay some bills but couldn’t work because of my knee injury. Someone bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. Of course, this miraculous timing doesn’t just apply to money. My therapist showed up at just the right time. Books and information continue to show up at just the right time.

One of my points here is–How do you know? That is, how do you know you should have said something or done something sooner–or that you should even do it at all (if you haven’t already)? Having been on the receiving end of multiple (hundreds of) perfectly timed kindnesses, it’s not a stretch for me to think that I can play a part in the producing end of perfectly timed kindnesses in someone else’s life. What I mean is that I can beat myself up for not sending a letter in the mail sooner, but maybe the person getting that letter didn’t NEED it sooner. Maybe they needed it LATER. Likewise, I can (and do) beat myself up for not working more on writing my book(s), but again, perhaps it’s just not time. How will I know it’s time to write my book(s)?

I’ll have my butt in a chair and will be writing them.

It’s that simple.

Gosh, we like to complicate things. I like to complicate things. And not that I’m encouraging procrastination or not listening to your inner nudges to act, but I am suggesting that most of our self-flagellation is just that–self-punishment. As if we won’t get things done unless we constantly berate ourselves. I’m not doing things right. I did something wrong. I’m a bad person, I’m a worm. Please, we need a new myth–the myth of I’m doing things just fine, the myth of I did something right (a lot of things right), the myth of I’m a good person, not a worm.

Living by a new myth, of course, is more than simply changing your perspective or putting on a new pair of glasses. For a myth to really make a difference in your life, you have to internalize it and you have to let it change you. May says, “We seem to think that we can be reborn without ever dying.” This means that our old personality structure must be completely torn up (or torn down) in order for a new one to be planted, take root, and grow. This is why Noah was in the Ark, Jonah was in the whale, and Christ was in the grave. Chaos always precedes order, darkness always precedes light, and death always precedes new life–and change always takes time. For me, this is where the myths are most helpful. Knowing that “destruction comes before creation,” rather than be filled with anxiety whenever my life is falling apart, I can be filled with hope. I think, It’s just a matter of time before things start coming together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life proceeds at its own pace.

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