On Creation (Blog #1069)

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This morning I woke up at 4:30 to work backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! in Fort Smith. Until 7:45 this evening. And whereas it was fun and absolutely magical, Daddy is worn the eff out. Seriously, I’ve said many times before that I’m not cut out for manual labor, and even the personality test I took recently agreed. You’re not meant for nine to five work, it said. So it’s good that tomorrow is the last day working the production. That’s the deal. Today they set up and did one show, then tomorrow they’ll do two shows, pack up, and hit the road.

And I’ll hit the hay.

Today they asked that we not take or post any pictures from backstage (that’s called a boundary), but, y’all, the sets, props, and costumes were stunning. Giant flowers, fluffy grass, velvet curtains, feather boas galore. And everything in every color. No kidding, it was like a box of crayons exploded. And whereas I spent most the day with my mouth open feeling like I was in the middle a cartoon (hello, childhood memories!), for many of the the cast and crew (who have been on the road with this show since October), it seemed to be just another day at work. Ho-hum. This reminded me that we can be surrounded by beauty and mystery and totally lose touch with it. We can look at a sunrise or a loved one and think, Oh, yeah, that old thing. I guess it’s all right.

I don’t recommend this.

Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything and say, “What is it?” The idea being that everything–without exception–is a mystery. Sometime try this with your hand. Just hold it out and stare at it, without thinking, It’s a hand or It’s an old, wrinkly hand. Just stare at it and see if you’re not struck with wonder. That it’s alive and that it can move. That it exists.

That you exist.

From what I understand, we lose the wonder of things when we label them. Either as objects or adjectives. That is, as soon as you say, “It’s a hand” or “He’s a jerk,” you move away from The Mystery. Of course, we’re all doing this all the time. We make a million assumptions each and every day about what things are. And yet the truth is–and I know this is mind twister–you only think it’s a hand because someone told you it was. (And what if they were wrong?) You only think he’s a jerk because you told he was. (And what if you were wrong?)

Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, does this mean the person you see in the mirror every day waved a magic wand and made something appear out of nothing? No. At the same time, yes. What I mean is that when you open your eyes every day, the world is there. The Mystery is there. The one in the mirror doesn’t create that. But the one in the mirror does create your experience of the world. By naming it, by labeling it, whatever you want–good or bad, too hot or too cold, terrifying or peaceful, ho-hum or magical.

I suggest magical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

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On Interesting People (Blog #1042)

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Phew. I woke up at six this morning and have been functioning ever since, working backstage for the national tour of the musical Finding Neverland. And whereas for weeks I’ve been fearful that my chronic sinus problems would rear their ugly head (in my head) and make my day miserable, I’ve felt fine. Almost human. Indeed, I’ve helped unload three semis, pushed props around, laid down Marley floor, made beds, and sanitized glasses and haven’t once thought, God, I feel terrible. Rather, except one time while crawling around on my knees, I’ve been grateful for this opportunity. Sure, it’s grunt work, but I love the magic of the theater and seeing how it all works.

Speaking of magic, here’s something. Over a year ago I got to work backstage for ten days for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. Well, this tour of Finding Neverland is being put on by the same production company, so this morning I was greeted by hugs and several familiar faces, friends whose lives and travels I’ve been following on social media. I can’t tell you what a treat this was, to show up to work and be welcomed, to not be a stranger. Of course, we’re all strangers at some point, in some situation. And so we meet each other. We say, “Hi, my name is (insert your name here). What’s your name?”

If we’re lucky, a conversation begins. And talk about magic, a good conversation can take you anywhere.

In my experience with good conversation, the key is to remain curious. Ask a lot of questions. So often we judge people by the clothes they wear or the job they’re currently doing and forget that we’re only seeing a piece of them, not the whole puzzle, the whole mystery. One of the gentlemen I worked with this morning was, by trade, a chef. Indeed, if you live in Fort Smith, you’ve probably eaten one of his recipes, since before he moved away he consulted with many of our local restaurants. Another worker said, “If you’re a chef, what are you doing here?”

“Just making some extra money while I’m visiting my family,” he said.

I don’t know. I think people are fascinating. What’s more, I think they’re willing to tell you almost anything if they sense you really want to listen. One man I just met today told several of us at lunch about his mentor who died many years ago in a freak accident. “It really affected me,” he said. “He taught me everything I know.” Heart wrenching.

Something I’ve been thinking about today is just how much your attitude affects your experience. For example, when you’re sitting with a group of strangers, a fearful or shy attitude will keep you isolated. But a curious attitude, a friendly attitude, will connect you to others, others who are fundamentally the same as you. People with hopes and dreams, griefs and tragedies not unlike yours. People who want to be loved, accepted, and appreciated exactly as they are, just like you do.

This is true no matter what someone looks like, no matter where they’re from.

Getting back to the idea of attitude, at one point today a forklift driver whose sole responsibility was to unstack large boxes over and over again told me he was bored. “It’s just the same thing. Up and down, up and down.” I totally get this. For years I worked as a wedding photographer’s assistant and was constantly surrounded by magic, the most important day of the wedding couple’s life. However, for me it was just another day at work, one more batch of spinach dip. Looking back, I can see that it was my attitude, my perception, that kept me from enjoying the uniqueness of each event. It’s not that the magic wasn’t there. I just couldn’t see it.

There’s an idea that I subscribe to that says that BORING people are BORED and INTERESTING people are INTERESTED. Again, this goes back to how curious you are about other people and your surroundings, what your attitude is. The truth is that, on one hand, every day is the same thing over and over again. We wake up, we go to bed. Up and down, up and down, until we die. So yes, one could get bored pretty easily. On the other hand, every day is new. For example, although I may work backstage at another show, I will never again work backstage with the same people, the same constellation of precious faces I worked with today. Seen from this perspective and with this attitude, each person, each day, and each moment we encounter becomes a gift, a gift worthy of our reverence and interest.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things are moving as they should.

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See Above for Results (Blog #1007)

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Yesterday I communicated online with a seller from Facebook Marketplace who’d listed a couple items I was interested in. “I’d like to look at them before deciding to buy them,” I said. “Where and when would be good to meet?”

“I’ll be in Fort Smith tomorrow around 3:00,” they said.

Maybe they’ll tell me where later, I thought.

This afternoon they said, “Looks like it’s going to be about 4:30.” And whereas I was beginning to doubt 1) whether I really wanted the items and 2) if this person would actually show up, about 4:20 I went ahead and got ready to go. Climbing into the car, I messaged the seller. “Where should we meet?” I said. Alas, twenty-five minutes later I was in Fort Smith with no answer. Perhaps it’s just as well, I thought. I really don’t need to spend the money. Plus, the whole situation just felt “off.”

Recently I had a meeting scheduled with someone and the day of woke up three hours early thinking, I should cancel. However, not wanting to be a douchebag, I didn’t. For this, I paid the price. I spent the whole day with an upset stomach. Every hour I was running to the bathroom. (If this is too graphic, I apologize.) Thankfully, by the time the meeting started I calmed down. But never completely. Again, the whole thing just felt “off.” Now, nothing BAD happened, but a few days later the person with whom I met ended up being rude in a text message. Later when I discussed the matter with my therapist she said, “That’s a big deal when your body wakes you up tell you something. My guess is that queasy feeling you had is your body’s particular TELL for ‘this is going to be a waste of our time.’ Next time, cancel.”

Y’all, I get it. Cancelling would have made sense. And it’s not that I didn’t think of it. It just seemed like, well, not a very NICE thing to do. (What does your therapist always say, Marcus? Nice is a strategy–to get people to like you, to get moved up to the front of the line, to get someone in bed.) That’s what I kept thinking today on my way to meet the seller in Fort Smith, that I wanted to cancel but that it was TOO LATE, that it wouldn’t be VERY NICE. So honestly I was relieved when they didn’t respond. Because it gave me an out.

Sort of.

I’ll explain.

When I got to Fort Smith and hadn’t heard anything, I stopped by AutoZone to have my car, Tom Collins, checked. His check engine light’s been on lately. And whereas I assumed it had something to do with the fuel gauge (which lately has said I’m full one minute and empty the next), I wanted to be sure. The good news? I was right. The bad news?

“You’ll probably have to replace the entire fuel pump,” the guy said, “and that’ll run you $390.”

Plus tax, of course.

Okay, I thought, I definitely don’t need to buy anything today. So, still not having heard anything from the seller and twenty minutes after we were supposed to meet, I wrote them, “I came to town to meet you but ended up having car trouble along the way. Unfortunately, I’ll be spending my money on auto repairs. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

At which point they replied, “Wow I drove fifteen minutes.”

No “I’m sorry about your car” or anything.

Which just goes to show you that we all make everything about us.

This isn’t the way things went down in reality.

Now, do I blame this person for being upset? No. Over the years I’ve had plenty of people flake out on dance lessons at the last minute or not show up at all, and it’s frustrating. Especially if you’re counting on the money. Do I wish that they’d been more gracious about it (I mean, I drove fifteen minutes too, and my car’s broken), or that we’d both communicated more clearly in the first place? Of course. And if IFS and BUTS were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas. In other words, this isn’t the way things went down in reality.

Y’all, I could go on and on about what I think both me and this other person did right and wrong in this situation. If this were a gameshow and you could all vote–I’m sure–some of you would say I’m the shithead here, and others would say the seller is. Some of you would think BOTH of us are. I think that’s the camp I’m in. Meaning that some circumstances in life aren’t cut and dried. Instead, they’re simply less than ideal. Gross.

Like, aren’t we glad that’s over?

Having had the evening to over-process this mess, I have a few takeaways. First, more and more I’m learning to trust my intuition. That is, I’m glad I cancelled, since, based on the person’s response, I don’t think I would have enjoyed or felt good about the interaction had it gone through. Granted, I didn’t follow my intuition as soon as I could have (and thus the mess), but I did follow it faster than I would have even a year ago, and that’s progress. Which brings me to my second point–authenticity and the self-esteem necessary to pursue it are things that require PRACTICE, and this practice, rather than occurring on a grand scale (like in a court room), more often occurs in the nitty gritty of everyday life. With our friends. With our family. With total strangers we meet on Facebook.

This is the shit my therapist and I talk about, the day-to-day dramas. Sure, we discuss THE BIG STUFF, but usually the little stuff leads us to the big stuff, since the little stuff tends to touch a wound. I’m not good enough. I did something wrong. Why doesn’t everyone like me?

Of course, not everyone is supposed to like you. (Why not, Marcus?) Because you need PRACTICE liking yourself no matter what.

Seen from this perspective, I COULD be thankful for the seller’s response today. (“The response THEY CHOSE,” my therapist would say.)

Are you thankful, Marcus?

I’m working on it before your very eyes.

Over a year ago I wrote about a statue of mine I call ANY DANCING JESUS that images Christ with his arms raised overhead as if here were just beginning the chorus of “YMCA.” Anyway, this evening while futzing with a picture frame and the cover an old book, I placed the statue inside the frame. (See above for results.) In the process I remembered that, despite the fact that Jesus was the original DFF (damn fine fella), not everyone liked him either. (So what makes you think they’ll like you?) I also remembered that part of his message was to “rise above,” or see things from a higher perspective. (See above for results.) Like, for all I know, I did the seller a favor by getting them out of their house where they otherwise would have been robbed or mugged. Lastly, I remembered that by his example Christ taught us to set it free, bitch. (I added the bitch part.) That is, he taught us to forgive, forgive, forgive (ourselves and others), to let go (of our mistakes and the mistakes of others), and to not judge (anyone including ourselves).

Of course, these amount to the same thing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Ultimately, we all have to get our validation from inside, not outside, ourselves.

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On Locard’s Exchange Principle (Blog #975)

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This morning I finished house sitting then spent the afternoon and evening with my friends and former roommates Justin and Ashley. And whereas I’ll spare you the details of our entire day together, I will say that at one point Justin and I drove by Fort Smith’s latest mural project, a house painted by Okuda San Miguel. Y’all, it’s super cool. For weeks the house has been entirely white, a blank canvas. Then just this week it was turned into a rainbow-colored wonder of lines and geometric shapes. And not that this has to do with what I plan on discussing tonight, but the project is cool and was part of my day, so I’m including pictures below.

Currently it’s two in the morning. I got home from Justin and Ashley’s about eleven, but have spent the last few hours unpacking from house sitting and–quite frankly–taking a shower because I hadn’t cleaned up in a few days (so sue me). And whereas I could have put everything back in its proper place tomorrow, I simply got in a mood. Having been gone for a week, I wanted to BE home, to get all my clothes and toiletries in order. Having stepped in dog shit earlier today, I wanted to WASH my shoes.

A random comment I made to Justin and Ashley tonight was that on a weekly basis I use a number of phrases or speech intonations that I picked up years ago from one or more of my exes. “I don’t love the fact that they influenced me so much,” I said, “but they did.” My therapist says that when two people really meet, it’s like a chemical reaction. “Both people are forever changed,” she says. I guess you could think of you and any significant person in your life like two eggs that have been scrambled together (you’re one egg, they’re the other, and the omelet is both of you ). The point being–you can separate the omelet, but the eggs won’t be the same as they were before. Each will have parts of the other mixed within it.

Along these lines, in forensic science there’s something called Locard’s Exchange Principle, which basically says that when someone commits a crime, they will both leave something at the crime scene (a fingerprint, a hair, some blood) and take something from it (a fleck of paint under their fingernail, gravel in the grooves of their shoe, spilled liquid on their jeans). I thought about this tonight as I was unpacking and cleaning up from house sitting. Mostly because I found dog hair everywhere–on my pillow, in my shoes, in my car. Of course, this means that I left my hair (and maybe a booger or two) where I was staying.

Because I’m a giver.

But seriously, the point being that both I and the place I stayed are different than we were before.

Yesterday I blogged about trimming down the number of friends I have on Facebook, and this idea that for better or for worse every relationship and interaction leaves its mark on you is precisely why I’m culling my digital friends. To be clear, I’m not suggesting that all marks left are negative. On the contrary, there are PLENTY of people I follow who are absolute bright spots in otherwise gloomy days. The important thing for me to remember and not take lightly is that any of us can seriously influence anyone else. My dad met a man in prison who introduced him to the idea of not eating “unclean” meat and–long story short–I didn’t eat pork for twenty years. So don’t tell me one person–you or anyone else–isn’t powerful.

We’re talking about bacon here.

If the response of the citizenry of Fort Smith to our latest mural is anything like the response to our previous murals, there will be those who LOVE it and those who HATE it. Regardless, everyone will have a reaction. Likewise, you’re GOING to have a reaction with everyone you meet in person or online. If the connection is strong enough, it’ll be a big one. For example, I know people who are decades past divorces and are STILL bitter. Conversely, I know people decades past divorces who are still BETTER. My point being that you do have some say in HOW you let the chemical reactions in your life change you. Like, okay, this shitty thing happened. (Shitty things happen.) Now are you going to be a man-hater your entire life, or are you going to get your ass in therapy and (finally) deal with your baggage? When you leave another’s house covered in dog hair, are you going to do nothing and inevitably spread someone else’s mess all over your space, or are you going to be more conscious about what you let into your home and, therefore, take the time necessary to clean things up?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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The Magic of the Color Purple (Blog #956)

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Three years ago this Christmas I was in New York City, and my friend Chad said, “You’ve GOT to see The Color Purple. I don’t care if you have to move heaven and earth to make it happen–go.” Well, I did. I bought a balcony ticket for–I don’t know–fifty or a hundred bucks and went all by my lonesome. In short, my life hasn’t been the same since. Within the first two minutes of the opening number, “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” I started crying, and I didn’t completely stop crying until the show was over. Simply put, it was a soul-grabbing, spirit-moving experience, the story of an abused teenager/woman and her journey of self-empowerment.

For the last three years, hardly a week has gone by that I haven’t listened to at least one of the songs from The Color Purple. Some of my favorite lyrics are–God works in mysterious ways—Open up your eyes, see what God has done–and I believe I have inside of me everything that I need to have a bountiful Life. Needless to say, a few months ago when I learned that The Color Purple was touring and would be in town tonight, I snatched up two tickets on the seventh row. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

So get this shit.

Last year I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and last month I worked backstage for the national tour of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. I guess this is how you get your foot in the door, since earlier this week my friend who hired me to work for these musicals (in Alma) recommended me to work backstage for The Color Purple (in Fort Smith). And whereas the job was to start at eight in the morning and I hate mornings, of course I jumped at the chance.

Y’all, today I woke up at six-thirty. Before the sun was even up. And whereas I’m a dipped-and-dyed night owl and, therefore, hate to admit this–it wasn’t awful. Actually, more and more I’m finding that mornings are rather agreeable to me. Maybe this comes with getting older (damn it), but it’s like the world is quiet and I can think. I have more energy.

No kidding, I showed up to the theater EARLY.

WHAT has happened to me?

As I have for the past two shows, I was assigned to PROPS this morning. I will forever be amazed at how multiple semi-trailer trucks can be unloaded and loaded back up in a single day, as one fellow worker commented, “all for a two hour show.” (My thought was, Totally worth it.) Anyway, in order for all this to work seamlessly, there must be order, and the more experience I get backstage, the more I appreciate the structure of the whole thing. The carpenters work on the set, the electrician work on the lights and sound, the props crew set up (part of) the orchestra pit, lay down the Marley floor, and–duh–set out the props.

It takes a village.

Something that’s been on my mind lately and especially today is how much power one person has to either bless or stress someone else. For example, having worked backstage a couple of times before today, I’ve been around some really pleasant people (who smile and say thank you) and some really unpleasant people (who yell and scream and act entitled). Either way, incidentally, all the work gets done. It’s just a matter of whether it gets done with a good attitude or a bad attitude. More and more, I see this as a choice, not just how I behave, but also how I respond to someone else’s behavior. Because I control whether I frown or smile. I can’t control how anyone else looks at me or treats me, but I can control that; I can control my reaction. Even when I get stuck with a sourpuss supervisor, I think, Am I going to make this day a good one or not?

Fortunately, my supervisor today, Whitney, was anything but a sourpuss. Rather, she was quite delightful. Y’all, it doesn’t take much. She said, “How are you?” She said, “Where are you from?” She literally called us friends. What’s more, she and the other folks on our crew made jokes. One guy noted that one of the boxes we unloaded said–I think–Magnum Ultra. He said, “That’s my stripper name.” We all tossed around comments like this one all morning. Seriously, a light-hearted attitude makes all the difference. I thought, I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I got up early.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and I’m at a coffee shop. At one all of us locals got cut for the afternoon, so I met my parents for lunch and then came here. Shortly I plan to meet a friend for dinner, and then we’ll see the show. After that, I’ll return backstage to work load out until–I don’t know–midnight or after. So, this is a long day.

But this is a good day.

Our days here are limited.

In “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” which is set in a hymn-singing, gospel-believing church, there’s a lyric that goes, Hallelujah! Today’s the day God has made. You don’t believe in God? That’s fine. My point is that today is special and unique. Never again will the sun shine quite the same way, and never again will you have THIS chance to smile, THIS opportunity to be kind to those around you. As one mystic has pointed out, THIS day will never come again. More and more I realize that today is a gift–and that my days here are limited. One day I’ll wake up, either early or late, and I’ll never wake up again. At least on this earth, at least in this body. So often I judge my life for not being “bigger,” “better,” but the truth is that this kind of thinking disconnects me from the magic of this present moment–the magic of a stranger’s kindness or laughter, the magic of lunch with my parents, the magic of the color purple.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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Don’t Get Cocky (Blog #914)

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Two weeks ago I started an intermittent fasting/mostly paleo diet because–it was time. And whereas I’ve been hungry a lot (for cake and cookies), my first week I lost 2.6 pounds. As of this morning I’ve lost another 2.8 pounds, bringing my total loss to 5.4 pounds. I can’t tell you how tickled I am. My metabolism works. Five pounds–that’s half a bowling ball. Another five pounds and I just might be able to fit into my non-stretchy jeans without having to spray my legs with WD-40 first. I’m so excited I could eat cheese.

Today itself has been pretty laid back. This morning I finished reading the book I started yesterday, Will the Real Me Please Stand Up? Then I started another (short) book about the psychology of numbers and colors, then another about social media marketing. Then my dad, my aunt, and I went to the gym, where I took today’s selfies. Just look at those legs. Grrrr.

My mantra today has been–don’t get cocky. What I mean is that, hey, I’ve lost five pounds–I’m the king of the world. But ultimately I’d like to lose between ten and fifteen pounds AND get my body back into the shape it was several years ago when I was featured in a “hottie” calendar. Or better shape. Really, the goal is simply to treat my body as good as possible and see what happens. I don’t have to have a six-pack. But I would like to be pain free, and I know enough to know that achieving this goal will require my bringing my body (and posture) back into balance. Which means getting my ass to the gym. Anyway, my point is that yes, I’ve had a good couple weeks. But now’s not the time to celebrate with cinnamon rolls. Now’s the time to stay focused and keep doing what I’m doing.

Because it’s working.

Last night I reviewed my goals for the previous week and made goals for this one. And whereas I’m checking off most of what I set out to do, there are a few things items I’m not checking off. This isn’t because the tasks are all that difficult, but rather because–I can see now–I was a bit too ambitious starting off. That is, it just doesn’t make sense to change one’s diet, gym routine, and every other routine in one week. Since this is a yearlong journey, it makes more sense to make little changes week by week or even month by month. Having seen through therapy and this blog that making little changes consistently over time works, I know this to be a solid strategy.

Even if part of me wants to fit into my tiny pants NOW.

There’s this weird thing that happens when you look at old pictures of yourself. Maybe you’re familiar with it. You think, Gosh, I’d give anything to look like that again, even if at the time you thought you looked fat and terrible. My point is that few of us are ever present with our bodies. We’re always chasing what used to be, what could be. Or worse, we’re comparing ourselves to others, to bodies that never will never be our own. So I’m doing my best to appreciate whatever my body looks and feels like right here, right now.

Speaking of how my body feels, this afternoon I came down with more sinus junk, just like I did last Monday when I lost a couple pounds. (Is this the thanks I get for eating asparagus?) My friend Sydnie says that whenever you fast, your body has an opportunity to clean stuff up and out (instead of digesting), so it’s not uncommon to produce more mucus and such. I hope this is it. Like, things get worse before they get better. Regardless, I’m doing what I know to do, hoping for the best, and leaving the rest to the gods. I used to flip shit and imagine the worst every time I started feeling bad, and I just can’t let myself do that anymore. It’s too tiring and never seems to help me heal any faster.

As always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

As for me, I’m going to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Answers come built-in. There are no "just problems."

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Use the Difficulty (Blog #898)

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Last night, for my thirty-ninth birthday, I went out to eat with several of my dear friends. It was the perfect thing–good people, good food, good god I’m getting older. But seriously, it was a fabulous night. Yesterday I joked that thankfully no one had sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. And whereas last night no one put a sombrero on my head, the wait staff did sing to me. Which I was fine with, since they also brought me a chocolate dessert (!) with four candles on it. I guess one candle for every 9.75 years I’ve been alive. When they finished singing, one of the waiters smiled and said, “Congratulations.”

I was like, “For making it this long?”

After dinner my friends and I went downtown for live music, a band none of us had ever heard before. My friend Justin described it as a mix of blues, rock, and folk. You know, good-ole-boy stuff. For me, it was just the right thing. Not over-the-top amazing, but solid nonetheless. Enjoyable. One of the last songs they played before we left was a swing tune, so Justin and I danced east coast swing together. It was awesome. Except that my hips hurt today. Maybe this is part of getting older. (Congratulations.)

Whenever I dance with another guy in public, especially in Fort Smith, Arkansas, I’m self-conscious. I think, I wonder if people are watching. I wonder if I’m going to get beat up. Personally, I don’t think anyone should have to fret about their safety if they’re simply doing something (or someone) they love, but this is the world we live in. I didn’t make the rules. Plus, I’m starting to think people as a whole are more accepting, or at least less aggressive, than I thought they were. Last night while Justin and I were dancing a big “dude” came out of the bathroom and looked at us. Then he just kept walking. Like, no big deal. Now, I don’t know what he was thinking–it could have been, Disgusting, or I wish I could do that (or him). Either way, it turns out there was enough room in the bar, in the world for all of us.

This afternoon I spent some time reading Terry Gross’s All I Did Was Ask, a compilation of interviews Terry’s conducted on National Public Radio’s Fresh Air. One of the last interviews I read was with Michael Caine, the actor. In it he shares one of the best pieces of advice he ever received. The deal was that once he was supposed to walk into a room, through a doorway, but there was a chair on the other side that was in his way. His director said, “Use the difficulty.” Caine said, “What do you mean?” So the director explained, “If it’s a drama, pick up the chair and smash it. If it’s a comedy, trip over the chair and fall on the floor.”

Use the difficulty. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Five-and-a-half years ago I was absolutely heartbroken and depressed. Looking back, I guess I could have, would have gotten over it eventually. Instead, I was more proactive and started therapy. Hands down, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Likewise, I’ve had a number of other challenging relationships over the years. Instead of seeing them as “a bunch of bullshit,” I’ve seen them as opportunities for growth–chances for me to speak up, set boundaries, or change unproductive patterns. Think of a difficult person or situation in your life–maybe a health problem. What if instead of complaining you thought, This is a chance for me to dig deep, to really change, a chance for me to get my act together? What if instead of pushing your challenges away you thought, This situation belongs to me. It has my name written all over it?

More and more, this is the way I’m coming to see my life. I can look at every challenging thing in my past and see how it’s been a chance for me to mature. I could whine and bitch that the world isn’t the same for guys who dance together, but the truth is that’s just the difficulty I’ve been given, and it’s my choice whether or not to use it. Aren’t you given similar choices on a daily basis–the chance to be patient, the chance to be forgiving? Regardless of what’s challenging for you, ask yourself, Will I use my difficulty, or will my difficulty use me? In terms of me and whether or not I dance in public, I know that if I let my fears control me, I could very well end up sitting down for the rest of my life. Or I could stand up, dance, and let the chips fall where they may. I could get ever more so comfortable in my own skin and see that–most of the time–people respond positively to that. And if they don’t? That’s their difficulty, their chance to grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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Let’s Live a Little! (Blog #885)

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This morning the three dogs I’m taking care of woke me up at six-thirty to piddle and eat breakfast. (Like, they wanted to, not they wanted me to.) Anyway, one of them–I swear–is the slowest eater on God’s green earth. If you don’t guard her bowl, the other two sneak in and “offer” to help her finish her meal. Normally I stand nearby, but today I slumped on the floor and read a book until she FINALLY at the last bite. Then I moved to a chair and kept reading for thirty minutes so everything could digest and they could go outside again. Wouldn’t you know it? They wouldn’t “go.” Oh well, I thought, and went back to bed.

Three hours later I woke up and found shit on the carpet.

Dogs can be so rude.

After eating breakfast, I brushed my teeth and got ready to do more painting, since the room I’m working on now is ever so close to being done. Alas, five minutes before I’d planned to walk out the door, my friends Kate and Aaron invited me to go to Parrot Island, our local waterpark. And whereas the go-go-goer in me thought about saying, No thanks, I’ve got work to do, the rest of me thought, It’s a holiday weekend. I can paint any day. And I’ve never been to Parrot Island. When Kate said they’d been gifted four day passes, meaning we could all go for free, I said, “I’ll be right there.”

Y’all, I have no regrets. The waterpark was lovely. We did some lazy river-ing, some wave pooling. Aaron and I even went down a couple of the big kid slides, the kind of you have to be taller than 48 inches and more than 100 pounds (check and check) to go down.

The kind that give you a wedgie.

After the waterpark we changed clothes and went to eat at a place called YW Poke, but that Kate and Aaron’s four year old calls Poke Bowl. (He even has a song about it.) I guess a Poke Bowl is the place’s main menu item. It’s basically sushi in a bowl. The one I got–The Duke–was absolutely delicious.

When all this was over, we did some shopping (I did some window shopping), then went to Cherry Berry for frozen yogurt. This was also delicious.

And fattening. It was fattening.

“This is what we do on the weekends,” Aaron said, “just eat.”

Since today was my first time going to Parrot Island, YW Poke, AND Cherry Berry (I live a very sheltered life), Kate said it was “a day of firsts for Marcus.” I love this, that there are, and always will be, new experiences to have, new things to try. So often it’s easy to get stuck in a rut–get up, feed the dogs, (clean up their shit), go to work, go to bed. And yet it takes so little to break up our routines and qualify as an adventure. Let’s go to the waterpark! Let’s go to that new restaurant! Let’s–I don’t know–live a little!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t change what happened, but you can change the story you tell yourself about it.

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The Experience of Living (Blog #884)

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What a fabulous day. I spent this morning getting a slow start where I’m house sitting, doing some things online. Then I painted for a few hours, and–for whatever reason–was in the best mood. I guess my body felt decent, I was making good progress, and I had my tunes turned up. I didn’t finish the room I’m working on, but hey, it’ll get done soon enough. What’s the saying? All things in good time.

This evening I went to dinner with my parents and an extended relative we’ve recently reconnected with (my second cousin). And whereas you might think, Gosh, Saturday night with your family–that’s hot–it actually was. I had the best time. I guess there’s something about being around family, people who have known you forever.

Of course, the margaritas may have helped.

After we finished eating, my second cousin invited me to go bowling with him and a couple of his friends. My first thought was to call it a night, to come back to where I’m staying and–I don’t know–watch Netflix. But then I thought, Hell, Marcus, live a little. Get to know your family. So after I ran back to the house to let the dogs out (again, who let the dogs out? I did) I hauled my happy ass over to Midland Bowl and joined the party on lane 31.

Y’all, I can’t tell you what a trip this was. When I was in junior high, I used to spend every Wednesday afternoon at Midland Bowl. My sister and I were part of a league–The Wednesday Juniors. For years I partnered with my friend Jeff. First we were Double Trouble, then The Terrible Twosome. Intimidating, right? Anyway, bowling was my social life–my sports life (sexy, I know). I had my own ball and bag. I used to go out of town to tournaments. I had patches–and trophies! I still have: so–many–memories.

Alas, that was decades ago, and any time I’ve tried to bowl since it’s just been a disappointment. Like, I have all this knowledge in my head about what should happen–the mechanics and physics of throwing a ball down a lane–but I’m sorely out of practice. In the last twenty years, I’ve been lucky to break a hundred maybe twice. However, tonight–for whatever reason–I did. My second cousin, his friends, and I bowled two games, and my first score was 124. Then–get this shit–my second score was 151. Granted, the second game I was given a free strike because the pin setter screwed up, but still. There were several throws when I was able to relax and everything just came back–get your alignment, breathe, settle in, take four steps, swing back, follow through.

Right in the pocket.

What I loved about tonight more than getting a decent score (there’s a sex joke there somewhere) was the fact that–for whatever reason–I didn’t give a shit. What I mean is that when I’ve bowled in the past my perfectionist has shown up in full force and taken the fuck over. Like, You should be better than this. You used to be on a league. Geez, you’re screwing this up. You’re a total failure. But tonight there was VERY LITTLE of that. Rather, it was about having fun spending time with new people. Several times when I got up to throw the ball I thought, It doesn’t matter WHAT the hell happens–I’m still worthy. This is one way I know The Hard Work is, well, working. Situations that used to trigger me don’t now (as much). Things that used to bother me don’t anymore (as much).

This is what you want as you proceed down The Path. Progress, not perfection. The experience of living, not the final score.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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On Ways to Change Old Patterns (Blog #877)

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This morning I went to bed at three and woke back up at six in order to help my dad celebrate his birthday (it’s today). One of his favorite things in the world is chocolate-filled donuts from Irish Maid Donuts in Fort Smith, and the last time we went–on Father’s Day at ten o’clock–they were nearly out. So this time we decided to go earlier. Not only that, Dad called them this morning to make sure they were still open (because several streets in Fort Smith flooded during the night), and when we arrived, they not only had our donuts ready, but they’d also written “Happy Birthday” on top of our box.

Talk about service.

Dad and I ate at the store, and the lady working the counter said they’ve been using the same donut/chocolate filling recipe since the 1950s. Y’all, it’s delicious. Totally worth getting up for. That being said, I went straight back to bed when Dad and I were finished and slept til almost twelve.

This afternoon I watched several videos online, mostly “smartypants” stuff, as my therapist calls it. You know, self-help, personal growth material. And whereas I enjoyed most of it, there was one video by one lady that absolutely got on my nerves. I kept thinking, This is dumb. I’ve got better things to do. Still, my inner completionist kept thinking I should stick with it. My inner good student thought, What if there’s important information that we NEED? Finally I thought of something my therapist says occasionally–follow the energy. That is, if something doesn’t excite you, it’s probably not for you. So I switched off the video while the lady was mid-sentence and moved on with my life.

It felt great.

Lately I’ve been talking a lot about changing patterns, and one of the videos I did completely watch today said that you can engage new patterns in a couple of ways. First, and I know this seems obvious, but you can “just do it.” What I mean is that I have an old pattern of completing things I start even if I don’t enjoy them, but a desire for a new pattern of being willing to walk away from that which doesn’t serve me (don’t throw good money after bad). So the simplest way for me to get comfortable walking away is to actually practice walking away–from a book, from a video, from a person. People always tell me they have two left feet. Duh. Of course they do–and they always will unless they’re willing to at least TRY to dance.

Which brings me to the second way you can change patterns. Get a role model, a teacher, or a therapist. The donut shop has been using the same recipes for over fifty years not because one baker has come in and done their own thing, but rather because one baker has learned from another who has already done it. This is why you take dance lessons from someone who already knows how to dance. This is why I see a therapist–because she already knows how to have boundaries, how to advocate for herself, how to speak her truth, and so on, and these are things I’ve wanted to learn. In order to do so, I’ve needed–and I think we all need–an example, a guide, someone who says, “Look here. See what’s possible. See how you can grow. See what you can become.”

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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