Like Door Knobs, We Exist (Blog #786)

Currently I’m at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house, where I’ve been all day, cleaning antique hardware. I started this project earlier this week, and whereas it’s not difficult work, it is tedious and time-consuming. First, if the hardware has paint on it, I let it soak in a crock pot. This makes the paint slide right off. Then I scrub, scrub, scrub the paint-free (usually) bronze metal with either Brasso, a mixture of baking soda and lemon juice, or both. At least that’s what I’ve been doing.

I’ll explain.

This afternoon after working for several hours I was ready to call it a day. But then I got obsessed with the fact that the pieces of hardware that had been through the crock-pot process had a distinct pink/copper tone to them and the other pieces didn’t. Rather, they looked like–um–brass. Well, I made the mistake of Googling why. As it turns out, brass is composed of copper and zinc, and heating it up (like in a crock pot) removes the zinc. This is why several pieces looked like copper–they were. Thankfully, this can be fixed. Soaking the copper-toned pieces in a solution of equal parts white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide removes the copper, and then–voila!–you’re back to brass (or steel if that’s what’s underneath).

Here’s a picture of The Solution. It starts off clear, then turns blue, then, sometimes, scummy.

After going to the store to get white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide, I went through the above process, and it worked like a charm. However, it also left my perviously shiny pieces of hardware smudged and dirty. Albeit dirty brass, not dirty copper. And whereas Brasso and baking soda and lemon juice didn’t do the trick, another internet remedy did–white vinegar, salt, and flour. Oh my gosh, y’all, that stuff is magic. It took almost all the dirt and grime off in an instant–no elbow grease required. I was so impressed that I not only used it to clean the used-to-look-like-copper pieces, but also touched up all the others.

Take a look. Notice the door knob in the bottom lefthand corner. That one was technically already clean (it was previously ALL dark), but not new-magic-potion clean like the others in the photo. What a difference!

Part of me feels like I wasted a lot of time earlier this week and this afternoon because I didn’t know about the copper-removing process or the magic brass-cleaning paste. But how can you know what you don’t know? Thankfully, I know now, and that means the rest of the hardware will get cleaned quicker and easier. As I watched The Solution and The Paste dissolve the copper and the dirt and grime before my very eyes, I thought, Better living through chemistry.

Work smarter, not harder.

The Gospel of Thomas says that Jesus said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.” To me this parable means that when you find a better way, you forsake all your previous ways that either weren’t working as well or weren’t working at all. Like, why would I go back to baking soda and lemon juice when The Paste is clearly superior?

In terms of personal growth, I’ve discovered a lot of Big Fish along The Path. For example, setting boundaries, being authentic, and speaking my truth (which, incidentally, is different than speaking my opinion). These things have taken the place (not all the time, but most the time) of the small fish of which I used to be so acquainted–being enmeshed with others, being a people pleaser, and being sarcastic or passive aggressive (or simply silent). Not that these small-fish strategies didn’t work on some level, but I’ve simply found a better way to live in the world and interact with others. It’s called being honest, direct, and kind.

While working with these pieces of antique hardware, it’s occurred to me that I’m not trying to create something beautiful from scratch. Rather, by removing layer after layer of paint, zinc, copper, dirt, and grime, I’m simply revealing something beautiful. Something that was there all along but got covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a door knob. This is a metaphor, of course, for the idea that all of us are radiant on the inside but that our radiance gets covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a person. Thankfully, with a lot of work, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of grace, we can get to what’s underneath.

When Queer Eye for the Straight Guy originally came out (see what I did there?), Kyan Douglas said that men need to pluck their nose hairs. Then he motioned to his gloriously kempt face and said, “Do you think this just happens?” With respect to cleaning door knobs or uncovering one’s inner radiance, I’d ask the same question. Do you think this just happens? The obvious answer is no. Even in Jesus’s parable about the man who caught the big fish, the big fish didn’t jump into his boat on its own accord. No, the man had to go fishing. He had to cast his net. He had to pull it in. Then he had to have enough sense to keep the big fish and–perhaps just as important–throw the little fish back, an act analogous to pruning the vine or separating the tares from the wheat. When Aladdin entered the Cave of Wonders, the rules were that he could only touch The Lamp. He couldn’t touch any other jewel or coin.

All this to say–once you figure out what’s Most Important, you can’t let yourself be distracted by, weighed down, or otherwise concerned with piffle or That Which Doesn’t Matter. Recently someone I care a great deal for suggested I could smile more in my daily selfies. I am–they said–after all, beautiful, and some of my pictures don’t do me justice. At one time I would have taken this advice to heart, thinking, I’m doing something wrong. My face is disappointing someone. I should be doing better. I should be smiling more. But as I’ve said numerous times before, this blog and my life are not about outward appearances or presenting myself in a such a way as to make someone else happy or gain their love or approval (even for a moment). Granted, I used to worry about such small things, but have since thrown those fish back into the sea because I’ve found A Better Way. Indeed, once you clear away The Grime, you connect with a certain confidence that allows you not only to simply be who you are, but also to stop feeling like you have to prove yourself–to yourself, anyone else, or the world at large. Like door knobs, we exist. This is enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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Finding God in the Strangest Places (Blog #75)

I’m just going to get this out of the way. Until this evening, I hadn’t showered for three days, maybe four. I lost count. All I can say is that I kept meaning to clean up, but there were so many reasons not too. I needed to exercise, I needed to blog, I needed to sleep. (Those are really the only things I do lately.) Suffice it to say, things got pretty gross, so in order to avoid smelling my own pits, I’ve spent a lot of time this week pinning my arms to my sides, kind of like a wallflower at a high school prom, minus all the acne. My personal mantra has been–elbows below nipples–elbows below nipples.

Since starting my new diet, my unfortunate and semi-longstanding body odor problem has actually improved, but it hasn’t entirely gone away. I read on the worldwide web that body odor can sometimes be caused by drinking too much coffee, so I thought that maybe I should cut back from my usual three cups, four cups, or maybe it was half a pot a day. Again, it’s hard to keep track of these things when you have so many other important tasks to accomplish.

Typically, whenever I decide something is bad for me, I cut it out cold turkey, label it as evil, and immediately proceed to look down upon anyone else who does it. Like, I could smoke half a pack of cigarettes for six months, quit for three days, and then walk down the street and see a total stranger bumming a Camel from his friend and think, What a lowlife–that’s disgusting. Or I could spend two months eating ice cream every night, quit long enough to lose half a pound, and then drive by the Dairy Freeze and think, You people should be ashamed of yourselves–go home and eat broccoli.

My therapist says that when it comes to certain topics, I’m so judgmental of other people because I’m primarily so judgmental of myself. I wish I could say I disagree with her. I guess because I have this highly developed sense of what’s right and wrong, good and bad, it gets applied here first, and then everywhere else across the board. So if you’re one of those people I’ve judged, I’m sorry, and I’m right there with you.

But back to coffee and body odor.

Some days managing my health feels like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole.

I’m really trying to not be such a hard ass, with myself or anyone else. (Did I mention I’m REALLY TRYING?) Anyway, instead of quitting coffee cold turkey, I decided to just back off, go to one cup a day. So far I’m two days in, and I’m starting to get really cranky. Part of me thinks, God, Marcus, you don’t have to quit processed foods, refined sugar, white bread, dairy, AND coffee in a ten-day period. But another part of me thinks, Yes you do–and while you’re at it, you should probably mediate for an hour every morning, sleep on a bed of nails, and adopt a child from China and pay for it by selling one of your kidneys on the black market. I mean, is that too much to ask?

Honestly, I just want the body odor problem to go away. I’m willing to try just about anything in order to make that happen, but some days managing my health feels like playing a game of Whack-A-Mole. If you want to know the truth, sometimes I think I’m a hypochondriac. (I can hear my friends saying, “No! Surely not you.”) Tonight when I finally did take a shower because I had a dance lesson (I’m not completely inconsiderate), I shaved my face, nicked something, and started bleeding. Well, I instantly thought it was a wart, another longstanding problem I had a couple of years ago. I think my heart actually stopped beating for a second as I thought, THEY’RE BACK.

But then I thought better of it and decided it was a zit, probably the result of not washing my face in three days, maybe four. Yes, I’m almost certain it was a zit and not a wart. So don’t worry, I’m going to live.

Phew.

That was close.

This evening I had dinner with a friend of mine who has really good taste and recently remodeled his bathroom. He’d probably die if he knew I took a picture of it and put it on the internet, so I probably shouldn’t have talked about my blog so much this evening or typed the address of this website into his phone. Anyway, I love remodeling, so we spent quite a bit of time going over every detail, but even now all I can think about is the arched window that he hung above his toilet. I’m guessing it came from a sanctuary, but it could have come from Target, which I suppose for some people is the same thing.

Isn’t that the cutest thing you ever saw? Doesn’t it remind you of a church? Call me twisted, but all night I’ve been thinking that if you just lit a few of candles, maybe had a couple of monks chanting in the shower (think how good they’d sound in there), it really would make the toilet feel like–I don’t know–a throne of grace. Just think of it–going to the bathroom could be called–a righteous release–a sanctified shit–a holy crap.

After dinner this evening, my friend and I were in the car, and he told me that I smelled “clean.” You can’t imagine how good it made me feel. I told him that I’ve been super self-conscious lately because I took some antibiotics and I think they messed up my intestinal flora and gave me body odor, so I’ve changed my diet and am cutting out coffee to try to fix it. Well, my friend is super honest, so he said, “Marcus, you’re a freak. (I’m summarizing.) You’re the only person I know who would change his diet because he’s afraid of the way he smells. No one else thinks about their flora.”

He may have a point.

Once I read an interpretation of the Garden of Eden story that basically said the Tree of Knowledge represents our capacity to judge or “to know” something. It said that it also represents the world of duality, where everything is hot or cold, up or down, good or bad, and it’s the good or bad part that causes a lot of our suffering. According to this take on things, everything was fine this afternoon while I was shaving, just as everything is fine right now as I’m typing this blog. In effect, I was and am in the Garden of Eden. (Who knew it would be this humid?) But as soon as I thought, I have a wart, and warts are bad, I kicked myself out of the Garden. That’s why my heart stopped beating, the way it would now if I labeled my body odor problem as anything other than good, which is what we’re told in Genesis is how God sees all that he has made. Or did he recently change his mind about that?

Leave it to God to hide under my armpits.

There’s a passage in the Gospel of Thomas that says, “Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find Me there.” What I love about this passage is that it reminds me that God (sometimes simply called Good) is everywhere. There’s no where that he isn’t. I spend a lot of time trying to prove this theory wrong, of course. I walk around a large part of the day thinking that warts are bad, carbs are bad, certain smells are bad. I think anything could kill me, and that would be bad because death is REALLY BAD. None of those judgments, of course, feel good, and they certainly don’t change a damn thing.

So I’m trying (really hard) to look for the good in all circumstances, to basically play hide-and-seek with God, like, I know you’re here somewhere. (Come out, come out, wherever you are.) Of course, God’s been playing this game for a long time. He’s not going to hide behind the sofa–that’s too obvious. Don’t bother looking for the divine behind the divan. More likely, this game is going to require that I lift my elbows above my nipples, maybe take a selfie in my friend’s bathroom. After all, leave it to God to hide under my armpits. Leave it to God to hide in the Holy Crapper.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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