A Lot Can Happen in an Hour (Blog #883)

Phew. Today the dogs I’m taking care of this weekend woke me up at five-thirty. In the morning. After I let them out and fed them breakfast (and stepped in a piece of shit), I promptly went back to bed. An hour later, one of them woke me up whining, panting, and shaking–because it was thundering outside. “She’s a real drama queen,” her owner said later. And whereas I’m glad that’s her standard operating procedure, it still kept me from resting. Thankfully, the storms eventually stopped, she stopped, and I was able to go back to bed. Until one of the dogs started whining again, of course. We’ll see how tonight goes.

Fingers crossed.

Today itself has been all–what’s the word–choppy. Like, it’s happened in small segments of time. This afternoon I had a lunch with a friend of mine (lovely), then painted for two hours. Then I came back to where I’m staying to let the dogs out (they’re on a very tight schedule), then I went back to where I’m painting, then I came back to where I’m staying to let the dogs out AGAIN.

If anyone ever asks, “Who let the dogs out?” it was me.

This evening I went to dinner with my friends Aaron and Kate and their son, and afterwards we went back to their place to watch High School Musical 2. The best part? Zac Efron–and I swear we didn’t plan this–ended up in our group photo at the end of the night. Check it out above, y’all. He’s standing RIGHT beside me. Zac Efron and I got our picture together!

But I digress.

Now it’s almost midnight, and I know that, thanks to these precious puppies, every minute I spend blogging will be a minute I don’t spend sleeping. So I’m promising myself I’m going to keep this short. Earlier today I wondered if it was even worth it to paint for two hours, or, later, one-and-a-half hours. But it was. I got almost the entire second coat rolled on. Because I want things to be “finished,” I so often want to spend hours and hours working on a project–painting, writing, reading–and yet everything gets done eventually if I just keep showing up–a little bit here, a little bit there. Hell, therapy has absolutely turned my life around, and that’s happened in fifty-minute blocks. So I know a lot can happen in an hour. This is my encouragement for the night. Even if it’s for just fifteen minutes, consistently show up for your project. Consistently show up for yourself.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A break is no small thing to give yourself.

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On He Who Dies with the Most Toys (Blog #882)

Well, it’s 9:15 in the evening, I’ve already showered and had supper, and here I sit writing. This almost never happens. Usually it’s another couple hours before I even begin to blog. However, I’ve been up and going all day, and I imagine I’ll be up early tomorrow, so either this happens now, or I won’t happen later.

The reason for all this up-at-the-crack-of-dawn bullshit is that I started house sitting for a friend today–a friend who has three dogs who are used to waking up early and–quite frankly–running the show. Which means they’ll be running me for the next few days. Now, other than the fact that they’re early birds (early dogs), they’re quite lovely. Currently two of them are passed out on the floor nearby, and I don’t know where the third one is. She’s anti-social.

A few days ago one of the dogs apparently caught a stomach bug and got sick at both ends (I know, it’s the worst), so not only do I have to watch where I step, but I also have to shoot two different liquid medications into her mouth twice a day. Y’all, it’s like one of those carnivals games, trying to hit the bullseye. Yesterday my friend showed me how to pinch the dog’s mouth then as-fast-as-you-can squirt the liquid between her teeth with a plastic syringe. “Do you think you can do it?” he said.

“Please,” I countered, “I’ve given an inhaler to a cat. This is child’s play.”

Thankfully, my bravado turned out to be true. This evening I got both medications into the dog’s sweet little mouth without incident. Well, she did spit out a few little drops, but the majority of it went down her throat, which is good enough for me.

One of the interesting things about staying in other people’s homes is that you get to see how they live. What I mean is that everyone–everyone!–lives differently (and I’m convinced there’s no right or wrong). Some people, honestly, are slobs. Like, they have slime on the dishes in their sink. (Ick.) Other people (including most of the ones I work for) are neat freaks. Everything has its place. And yet how one tidy person organizes their kitchen is always totally different from how another one does. Ugh, I can’t tell you how much time I’ve spent over the years looking for spatulas, paper towels, and hand soap. Tonight I opened every cabinet twice looking for honey. Finally, I gave up. Just when you think someone is sophisticated!

Oh well, at least they have Southern Comfort.

Recently I saw my therapist, and our plan was to discuss a creative project I’ve been working on. And whereas she’d just suggested kicking some ideas around, I showed up with an outline, visual aids, and a rehearsed speech. “This was more than I was expecting,” she said.

“Well, I’m a control freak,” I said.

“Let’s say you’re a consummate professional,” she offered.

Lately I’ve been discussing changing patterns of thought and behavior, and this story is an example of what I mean. I’ll explain. For the longest time, I really have been a control freak, at least when it comes to me and my projects. If nothing else, I’ve been a perfectionist. Now, I could go the rest of my life rocking out these archetypes–and we all know people who do–or I could let them fizzle out and step into another, more mature archetype–the consummate professional, a pattern that simply demands I’m as in control and perfect (or detail-oriented) as the situation calls for.

How does all this relate to house sitting?

I’m glad you asked.

Even before I had my estate sale and parted with most of my worldly possessions, I had a number of yard sales in which I let go of A LOT of stuff, stuff I liked. And whereas saying goodbye to all these things was tough, I don’t regret it now because material objects have very little influence over me anymore. That is, I can walk into anyone’s house–messy or immaculate–and not be overly turned off or turned on. It’s not that I don’t notice nice things, it’s simply that I see them for what they are–things. In terms of archetypes, you could say I’ve shifted from a somewhat hoarder (collector) to a minimalist.

Recently I helped a friend pick out a piece of furniture, and they said, “I don’t know if it’s ME.” Now, they were basically saying they didn’t know if it would fit in with the rest of their decor, and that was a valid question. At the same time, I think a lot of us think this way–we see our stuff as an extension of ourselves. This, honestly, is why most of us start panicking when we lose our phone. It’s like a piece of us has gone missing (because it has). But what I know from letting go of most of my stuff and from living in other people’s houses is that–without exception–you are not your stuff, and your stuff isn’t you. It may be an expression of you, but it’s not something worth attaching to. He who dies with the most toys does not win.

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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The Prep and the Primer (Blog #814)

This afternoon I helped my friend Kim start painting her kitchen. I say “start painting” because, like nearly every other damn thing in life, it’s going to be a process. (I hate that.) That being said, we made a lot of progress. Before today the entire kitchen–the walls, the baseboards, the molding–was apple green. Now only about half of it is. So even though there’s more to do, it’s clear you can get a lot done in a day.

So why not take a day and do something?

Kim said her least favorite part of painting was the prep work–scrubbing the walls clean, patching any holes. Alas, her husband, Grant, insists on “doing things right.” Personally, I agree with both of them–the prep work needs to be done, and it’s no fun doing it. Likewise, I don’t enjoy putting primer on walls, or, truth be told, the putting first coat of paint on walls. Because things still look sloppy, incomplete. No, for me, the fun part is the last coat of paint, when it all comes together. Then what REALLY thrills me is putting the room back IN ORDER, hanging pictures up and such.

Gay, I know.

The obvious point is that you can’t put pictures up without first doing the prep work, then doing the primer coat (if needed), then doing the first coat, and so on. Again, it’s a process, a process that if not “done right” is gonna be obvious. We’ve all seen rushed painting jobs before and thought, This person cuts corners.

Or is that just me who judges someone’s entire personality by how they paint a room?

Currently I’m house sitting for a friend and am in their living room. The last time I blogged here (in this particular room) was about six months ago. I remember because I’d recently injured my knee and–because my surgeon told me I didn’t need my crutches (because “you don’t need your ACL to walk”)–was re-teaching myself how to walk and negotiate stairs. Talk about things you take for granted. I remember having to lie on the ground to wiggle my pants on and off. Now, like before my accident, I can put my pants on standing up.

Don’t be jealous.

Everything worth having takes time.

This last week I was discussing my knee injury with a friend of mine who is a personal trainer and said that I have a ways to go. For example, it’s still challenging to jump using my injured leg, to use that leg to lower myself down (steps or into a chair), or to put weight on that knee. However, my friend said, “But look how far you’ve come.” Is that a wonderful encouragement or what? So often I get hung up on progress not yet made, on walls not yet painted, instead of focusing on That Which Has Been Accomplished. I want to get to The End, to the hanging pictures part, so the temptation is to half-ass, rush through, or get impatient with The Process. But if five years in therapy and two years of daily blogging have taught me anything, it’s that everything worth having takes time. Also, I’ve learned that the work that really pays off is the work that nobody sees. It’s the prep and the primer. That’s why they call it The Hard Work–because it’s tedious and boring and nobody is going to praise you for doing it (probably not even your mother). But damn if it doesn’t make all the difference.

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 What Really Satisfies (Blog #804)

This morning, about four, before the sun even came up, the dog I’m sitting went absolutely bat-shit crazy barking at something outside the bedroom window. It was probably a skunk, but for all I know it could have been a robber. Sound asleep before the barking started, I was suddenly awakened and extremely startled. It was like one of those dreams when your teeth fall out or you pee on yourself. (What, don’t you have those?) Terrifying. Eventually, I fell back asleep. However, two hours later the dog was whining, ready to go for a walk. So off we went. When we returned, I went back to sleep (again). Until my alarm went off two hours later.

Because of my erratic sleep schedule this week, I haven’t felt fresh as a daisy today. Now it’s just before eleven at night, and I’m ready to pass out. Maybe I can finish this in under five hundred words. Hell, considering how tired I am, I’m not sure I can finish this paragraph.

I’m gonna try.

The day itself has been fabulous. I spent this morning with a friend whom I helped with a computer problem, and we laughed, laughed, laughed while sitting on their porch. The weather was gorgeous. Then I exercised. Then I visited with a friend at their soon-to-be-opened art gallery. Talk about inspirational–people who have a dream and make it happen. Anyway, then I put together a porch bench for some other friends, then I ate fajitas (I love fajitas), then I taught a dance lesson. Phew.

This morning I read a quote by (my man) Joseph Campbell that said, “The rules of love, they really are severe. If you’re giving up everything for something, then give up everything for something and stay with it with your mind on where you’re going.” To me this means that if you’re committed to an idea–becoming a (full-time, paid) writer, for example–fucking do it. Give up everything. Sell your shit, live with your parents, wake up at six to walk dogs, do whatever you’ve got to do to make your dreams come true. If you’re really in love with whatever it is you’re pursuing (and which in turn and in truth is probably pursuing you), go for it. Give it your best shot. Nothing else will satisfy.

I sometimes tell people that I believe being a writer is why I’ve been put on this earth. Sometimes I call it a dream, a goal, or a desire, but the truth is that–I think–it’s why I’m here. Once a family friend referred to my writing as “a hobby,” and I wanted to come out of my skin. Not that it’s my job to convince anyone else that this isn’t a hobby but rather my soul’s calling, but that’s really how strongly I feel about it. It’s why I often say that if I DON’T pursue this, I know I’ll get to the end of my life and have regret.

This is not acceptable.

After reading Campbell’s quote this morning, I started thinking about what the world has to offer. And whereas I certainly haven’t even scratched the surface of what there is to see and do on planet earth, it’s not like I’ve spent the last thirty-eight years sitting on a couch either. I’ve jumped out of planes, gone down zip lines, rafted rivers, sailed yachts on foreign seas, eaten some fabulous food, danced my ass off, made love, and enjoyed the company of friends and family. Well, guess what? Nothing is ever enough. I want more. And yet I know I could spend the next thirty-eight years pursuing and achieving everything in the outer world and still not be fully content. For if I’m not pursuing my inner world, what’s the outer world amount to?

Squat, that’s what.

Personally, I think the word purpose if overused. I also think the words passion and calling are overused, but I don’t know any other words to use instead. My point is that there’s got to be SOMETHING in your life that gives it some sort of definition and texture, something deep down that MOVES you, something you’re willing to give up everything for. To be clear, this can’t be an occupation, nor can it be another person. If you think your reason for being on this earth is a specific job, what will you do when you get fired from it? If you think your reason for being on this earth is another person, what will you do when they move away or die? No, there’s gotta be something within that animates you in such a way that the entire world could fall apart and you’d still be excited to get up and think about, get up and do. This a question only you can answer–What really satisfies my soul?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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On Apples and Oranges (Blog #801)

Last night I started a new house sitting gig for a friend and this morning woke up at six to walk their dog. After our stroll, I promptly went back to bed. The dog didn’t, apparently. Two hours later she started barking her little head off. In the middle of drooling and dreaming, I shot up out of bed, my pulse racing, unsure of where I even was. This is often the case when you house-hop on the regular. You can’t quite get your bearings. What the hell is wrong? I thought. Has someone broken in the front door? Thankfully, this was not the case. There was a cat outside the window. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The dog did not apologize for waking me up.

Rude, I know.

Other than almost having a dog-induced heart attack this morning, I’ve had a fabulous day. I finished reading one book (about gothic architecture) then started and finished another (about one man’s thoughts on life). Then I taught a dance lesson. Then I payed bills. I guess this wasn’t fabulous–money makes my heart race–but it was nothing compared to this morning’s Fido’s Feline Frenzy Fit. Plus, since I’d been procrastinating this task for a while now, it felt good to finally get it done and out of the way.

Until next month, that is.

There’s a concept that’s been popular for a while now–what is, is. (Que sera, sera.) The idea behind this sentiment is that there are certain things in our lives we can’t change, so there’s a lot of peace (a lot of peace) in accepting life as it comes. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Byron Katie says you can’t teach a cat to bark or a dog to meow. In other words, I could be irritated that my friend’s dog woke me up this morning by barking at a cat outside the window, but my irritation ultimately wouldn’t change a damn thing, at least externally–because dogs bark at cats.

At least on planet earth.

This wisdom that things are as they are can be applied to humans as well. So often we accept that dogs bark–duh!–but not that certain people bark too. Someone flips us the bird in traffic or criticizes our behavior or doesn’t love us like we think they should, and we think they should change, that they should be different than they are. We think, That miserable sonofabitch. And yet they’re simply being themselves. I’m not saying people can’t change or won’t change, simply that what is, is–until it’s not.

The second book I read today was written by a friend and fellow travel writer, Aaron Fodiman, and he says it like this: “It doesn’t matter what you call something or how you try to change it. It can only be what it is. You can’t get orange juice from an apple because an apple is not an orange, not because the apple doesn’t want you to have orange juice or because the apple wants to keep the orange juice for itself. Apples are apples—they cannot give you orange juice. Many times people cannot give you what you want simply because they don’t have it to give. You can’t simply say they should be able to, anymore than an apple ‘should’ give you orange juice. We all can only give to others what we have in ourselves to give.”

I can’t tell you how much I love Aaron’s apples/oranges analogy. For some reason, it helps me to imagine the people in my life as–um–fruits. (I know, I know–I’m a fruit too.) This afternoon I’ve been thinking, Of course they can’t give me orange juice–they’re an apple!

Again, there’s a lot of peace in this perspective, in accepting others for who they are. For that matter, in accepting yourself for who you are–what you look like or don’t, what your talents are or aren’t, what you feel like or don’t. So often we compare ourselves, and if we don’t want to change ourselves to be like someone else, we want to change someone else to be like us. We imagine that our friends and relatives should think like us, vote like us, have our priorities. (Were they raised in a barn?!) We even imagine they should understand us. But this is all ridiculous thinking. A recipe for misery. Apples don’t understand or act like oranges. Dogs don’t act like cats.

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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The Uncomfortable Position (Blog #774)

It’s ten at night, and I’m house sitting. My friend’s dog, who’s been “asking” to go in and out all day (make a decision!) is curled up by my legs on the ottoman. Last night she slept in the exact same spot except we were in bed–a twin bed. This means that I had to morph myself into the shape of a question mark to make room for both of us. This afternoon my friend sent me a text about their dog that said, “Did she sleep under the covers?” I said, “I am NOT the kind of boy who lets someone under the covers on our first night together!”

Unless your name is Zac Efron, of course.

Other than letting my friend’s dog in and out, the day has been uneventful. I’ve read in a couple books, listened to a program about shadow work. It’s all personal growth/psychology stuff. I’ve been in a phase lately–grow, grow, grow. This is my general tendency, of course, but I also know it’s a season. At some point I’ll get distracted by Netflix or get into some television show and stop being so serious. As one thing I read today said, “The bow cannot always be drawn” or it would warp the bow and take away its tension, or that which gives it power.

Tension. There’s something we can talk about. I have a friend who’s a personal trainer, and she says when you do crunches, you want to get your body in “the uncomfortable position.” You know, the one that burns. The point being that the uncomfortable position is where you’re going to do the most good. Maybe it won’t feel good at the time, but you’ll like how your stomach looks in the mirror later. This is what I mean by tension, allowing pain to transform you. So many times over the last five years in therapy I’ve sat with emotional tension to the point I thought I was going to explode. Recently I had a heart-to-heart with someone I care about, and leading up to it was hell because I knew we needed to talk but was worried it wouldn’t go well. (It did.) And whereas I HATE that feeling of tension, that uncomfortable position, I’ve always enjoyed where it’s propelled me to.

What I mean is that on the other side of every difficult conversation, my relationships have improved. Even when the relationships themselves have been dissolved or put on hiatus, that’s still been an improvement from my perspective. Because, for example, there’s less drama, less fighting in my life. More than anything, the biggest improvement has always been my being able to speak my truth, whatever that is. (Examples–I’m hurting. I’m sorry. I don’t understand what happened. I love you, but this isn’t working for me.) This is the greatest benefit that I’ve had from the tension in my life. It’s forced me to speak up and grow up. If I hadn’t been so frickin’ miserable in my last long-term relationship, I never would have sought help in therapy or started this blog.

I can’t tell you how much I hate this, that we often (as in, all the time) have to experience tension in order to experience a release. I hate that “the uncomfortable position” is the one where growth happens. But of course it is. Because when we grow, by definition, we’re going somewhere or doing something we haven’t done before. We’re entering into the land of the unfamiliar, and the unfamiliar is always uncomfortable because we’re not used to it. But the good news is that the first time you speak up (or whatever) is the hardest, and then it gets easier from there. With all things, practice is key. Personally, I’m learning to lean into that which is uncomfortable or painful. Not because I’m kinky like that, but because I’m finally realizing that if I’m uncomfortable, if my bow is stretched, that means there’s a lot of potential power there if I use it right.

Recently I was reading that life operates according to the principle of polarity. That is, for every up there’s a down. For every period of activity, there’s a period of inactivity. For every bit of tension, a release. According to this viewpoint, the greater the down, the greater the up. Because life balances itself. This is what I mean by there’s a lot of potential power that comes from being in an uncomfortable position. Once when I was agonizing over a difficult situation, my therapist said, “I know it’s tempting to binge watch Netflix and eat chocolate cake, but you need to have a conversation. You need to speak up. I’ve been where you are, and if you really wanna be free, I’m giving you the playbook.” This is what I mean by if you use your difficult circumstances right. Anyone can run away from tension or just let it dissipate on its own. But USING that tension to propel yourself, to change yourself, that’s another matter. That’s how growth happens.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

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On Motivation, Belief, and Self-Empowerment (Blog #764)

It’s eleven at night, and I’m house sitting. This, often, literally amounts to sitting (or lying down) in a house and getting paid for it. This afternoon I rushed out the door to meet my dad and aunt at the gym and forgot my key. Well, I had my KEYS, but not THE KEY to the house where I’m staying. So I locked myself out. I hate when I do this. (I do this a lot.) Thankfully, I’d left a window open, so when I got back later, I just crawled through it. I say just, but I had to climb up on a chair, crawl halfway through the window, balance myself on my stomach like a see-saw, teeter myself down into the bathtub on the other side of the window, support myself with my arms, then finally bring my legs in for a B+ (somewhat wet) landing.

Seriously, I felt like I belonged in Cirque de Soleil.

Once I had a middle-aged student tell me they tried to keep themselves in shape in order to have more options. That is, if they got the chance to go roller skating, hiking, or dancing, they wanted to be able to say yes. They didn’t want to HAVE to say no because their body couldn’t perform because they hadn’t cared for it. This story has stuck with me, and I feel the same way. I want to be able to dance, run, um, crawl through windows well into my senior years. I want to be able to travel, hike, play with my nephews. Sure, I know shit happens beyond our control. Recently I busted my knee up (sort of my own fault, but I wasn’t PLANNING ON busting it up) and had to have surgery. But on a daily basis I have a choice about how I re-hab the damn thing, whether I stick with my program or not.

Some people say I’m motivated in terms of my leg. Recently I shared with someone how writing every day has truly transformed my life, and they said, “I wish I could find that motivation.” UHH–I don’t know what to tell you. Personally, I don’t think of myself as all-the-time motivated because I think motivation is fleeting. You get excited about something–feeling better, starting a project–and there’s this window. You think, Okay, I’m going to start. Or not. But after that, either way, the window closes, meaning, the excitement fades. After over two years of blogging or four months of rehab do I consider myself motivated? Not really. More than anything, I’m committed–because I know this stuff works. Said another way, I’ve gone from being motivated to believing.

That’s the ticket–belief. Motivations make you TRY. Beliefs make you CONTINUE TO ACT.

That’s nice to hear–that I believe in what I’m doing. (Sometimes I don’t know things until I write them down.) But I guess I do. At some point over the past few months I’ve begun believing that as I continue to do my leg rehab I’ll get back to doing the things I love–running, jumping, dancing. At some point over the last two years, I’ve begun believing in this process of sitting down daily (uh, nightly) to meet myself and figure things out, to heal. This is to say that I’ve come to believe in myself, that I know no matter what life throws at me, I can handle it, that even if no one else can, I can be there for me. This, I think, is called self-empowerment and is perhaps the closest thing you can get to solid ground in an unpredictable universe like the one we live in, where shit happens, where you can lock yourself out of a house or bust your knee up just as easily.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing was made to last forever.

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Unfolding (Blog #762)

It’s ten-thirty at night, and I’m house sitting for a friend, a different one than I house sat for last weekend. I spent the day at home–Mom and Dad’s–and have been here (where I’m house sitting) for several hours now. It’s the cutest place, this old house with low ceilings and kitchen sinks. Earlier I stood up out of the recliner in the living room and almost hit my head on the ceiling fan. I thought, Holy crap, I’ve grown! All that stretching must be paying off. But then I remembered it was just a matter of “everything’s relative.”

The little-ness of the house really makes it feel cozy, comfortable, and safe, like a cocoon. My therapist and I talked recently about how my room at my parents’ was basically the same thing, a protected place for me to grow, to transform. That’s how this house feels, like a little getaway right in the middle of town, a place where I can hang out with my friends’ animals, sit on their porch and sip coffee, and read.

Reading. That’s what I’ve been doing all day, all damn day. This afternoon I finished a book I started last night about the world between 1650 and 1720, when pirates, or buccaneers, sailed the seas, and how a large number of pirates were homosexuals, either because they were born that way or because there aren’t a lot of other options when you’re stuck on a ship for years at a time. This is something I never learned from Disney’s The Pirates of the Caribbean, the fact that they didn’t call it the Jolly Roger for nothing.

After finishing that book, I started another one this evening–about alchemy and how it relates to personal/spiritual transformation. This is an off-and-on fascination for me, the idea that we can change the lead in our lives into gold. I just like the metaphor. It resonates with me. Anyway, I read tonight until I got to the point in the book that included visualization/meditation exercises that are meant to be built upon–like you do one one day, then another the next. And whereas I’m excited to learn and try new things (and it never hurts to slow down, close your eyes, and breathe), I wish I could just read the damn book and be done with it.

Technically, I could. I realize that not every suggested exercise in a book is a “required” exercise. But I do like trying them. I mean, there’s a part of me that, believe it or not, would be content to just read, read, read all the time and learn, learn, learn. But learning isn’t just head-stuff. At some point, if it’s gonna make a difference, it’s gotta be embodied. Take dance for example, it isn’t just something you talk about, although you can. It’s something you DO. In my experience, it’s the same with personal growth. You have to live it. Hell, if all it took to be mentally and emotionally healthy was to post a meme about it, the world would already be a better place.

Unfortunately, growth takes more than just talking about it. As my therapist recently said, “It takes more than buying a Brene Brown book.” Personally, despite the fact that I love to read about personal growth, the only reason it’s more than a concept for me is because I’ve matched my reading with actions. Over the years this has looked like anything from a number of different meditation practices to having tough conversations, setting boundaries, and even ending relationships. And crying. I’ve cried a lot. Tonight it looked like a visualization exercise, an exercise I’m probably going to have to try a few times before I decide whether or not it’s doing any “good.”

This is my main gripe with books or teachers that give you exercises to do–if you do all of them every day, it eats up a lot of damn time. For example, for three months after knee surgery I not only did my rehab exercises every day, but also a form of meditation and writing for this blog. But recently I dropped the form of meditation in favor of other things (including going to bed) because it was just too much. That’s the pressure I’d like to take off, the idea that you have to do everything you start for the rest of your life. My inner student gets so excited about learning and thinks it has to do things “perfectly.” But that’s ridiculous–there’s no such thing as perfection. Plus, learning it should be fun, not burdensome.

I repeat–learning should be fun, not burdensome.

And another thing–I’ve already read more and learned more than some people ever have or will (a gay pirate, for example). So again, “everything’s relative.”

Earlier I took a break from reading to eat dinner and starts tonight’s blog. While I was in the kitchen, I let my friend’s cat in from outside, and he’s* been basically glued to me every since. I swear, he lay on the kitchen table eyeing me eat like he’d never seen a taquito before. As I’ve been writing, he’s been in and out of my lap. Y’all, it is so hard to type with a feline sprawled across you. That being said, his purring and stillness remind me to slow down, to not rush, to let all things, including myself, unfold in their own time.

[*I honestly have no idea whether my friend’s cat is a boy or a girl. It’s so hard to tell these days.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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My Alchemical Laboratory (Blog #501)

It’s two in the afternoon, and I’m house/dog sitting for some friends of mine who are out-of-town. I’m half-naked in today’s picture because, with the exception of the shorts I’m wearing, all my clothes are in the washer/dryer. The day itself is overcast, cool, and drippy. Although I have other plans, I could easily spend the entire afternoon on my friends’ couch, maybe their front porch, fading in and out of sleep. I too am overcast, since I got here at five this morning after having worked twelve straight hours with some other friends who are packing for an upcoming move. (We’re all serious night owls.) Anyway, I only slept for about six hours, which in my fine opinion, is not enough.

And yet I am awake.

Yesterday was my 500th blog (in a row), a milestone  that I intend to commemorate in the next few days with a live video and–most likely–a beer. Or cake. Hell, let’s get a cake, Marcus. Anyway, this is a big deal for me, as I’ve never committed to and followed through with anything else of this magnitude–ever. But more than simply checking off 500 days of blogging, this project has and continues to be–well–my alchemical laboratory, that place where I can meet myself time and time again, my sacred place of change and transformation.

The last time I house sat for my friends (earlier this year), I was doing my damnedest to heal from my second bout of the flu. This after a three-month-long sinus infection and a number of other health problems. (I was zapped.) The day my friends returned, my dad went into the hospital with heart problems. God, life can be a real bitch sometimes. But now things a different–not perfect, but better. My health has gradually improved, as has my father’s. I mention this because I think it’s vital to recognize that yes, sometimes the waters of life absolutely flood in and can almost drown you–but the waters recede.

Personally, one thing that’s nice about having this blog is that it gives me a daily record of my life. Last night during a snack break, my friends and I put down our cardboard boxes and packing tape, went outside, and pulled their patio chairs into the middle of their yard. There we craned our necks toward the sky in search of the Perseid Meteor Shower. Unfortunately, it was overcast last night too–cloudy. And yet I still saw four shooting stars. At least I’m pretty sure I saw them. That was something my friends and I discussed–the meteors happen so quickly, it’s easy to think, Did that really just happen? Likewise, with personal change, things often happen so slowly, I have a tendency to think the same thing–Is anything really going on here?

But–again–I have this record.

So I know.

I am changing.

Looking back, I can see it.

The waters are receding.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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