On Spilling Tea (Blog #894)

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Today, for the most part, was fabulous. Let’s talk about what sucked.

This evening I went to Starbucks to use their internet and watch a live video about boundaries. Well, first off, I forgot my laptop. No problem, I thought, I can watch on my phone. Which worked until my battery ran low and I didn’t have my charger with me. No problem, I thought, I’ll sit in my car and use my car charger. Then I thought, But first I’ll put more honey in my hot tea. Which is where things started sucking. You know how honey can be kind of thick so you have to really apply pressure to those little ketchup-sized packets in order to get the honey to come out? Well, my hand slipped while I was trying to get the honey out–and I knocked over my hot tea.

All over the counter, the floor, and–my phone.

Which isn’t waterproof.

As this isn’t the first time this has happened (I’m a hot-tea-spillin’ pro), I immediately wiped my phone on my shorts, then wiped down the counter. As for the floor, I asked the staff for help. “Hey man,” I said, “I’m sorry, but I spilled hot tea all over the floor.”

“No problem,” he said. “I’ll get the mop.”

At which point I headed to my car and got totally engrossed in the video about boundaries.

A couple hours later, I noticed the volume button wasn’t working on my phone, which I attributed to the fact that my battery was still low. Maybe it’s because I put it in power-saving mode, I thought. Then when I got home and my main power button wasn’t working either, I remembered the The Great Hot Tea Accident of 2019 and thought, Houston, we have a problem.

When I first spilled the tea, I was tempted to self-flagellate, to make myself wrong for–I don’t know–being a human. But when I worked at summer camp and kids used to spill their milk, I just thought, Shit happens, and cleaned it up. Knowing that some of the kids came from homes in which they were yelled at for spilling things, I always figured the best thing I could offer them was my understanding. Summed up, my philosophy was–be kind and help. Anyway, tonight I tried applying this philosophy to myself. I figured I didn’t know WHY anything happens. Maybe I was being delayed, kept out of a traffic accident. Maybe I needed to simply receive understanding from someone else. Maybe the guy behind the counter needed someone to minister to.

Now that I have more information about what happened tonight–like, I partially fried my phone–I still think all of this applies. That is, there’s no point in thinking, I screwed up. Rather, I’m seeing it as an opportunity to extend grace to myself. Seen symbolically, it could also be a chance for me to “unplug” for a moment or to reevaluate the boundaries I have with technology. Couldn’t we all take a serious step back from our devices? Which is what I’m about to be forced to do. As soon as I post tonight’s blog, I’m turning off my hotspot and phone and letting it dry out.

If it’s not healed in the morning (or by tomorrow night), I’ll take it to a shop.

The last thing that occurs to me in terms of the symbolism of this incident is that I always spill hot tea on my devices (uh, just two so far). Never coffee. Never water. So there might be something to consider about my spilling tea, or gossiping. I don’t consider myself a HUGE gossip, but I certainly do it, so I think it’s worth taking a look at. Where do I make things my business that aren’t my business? Where do I betray secrets? Linking everything together, one of the points of the video I watched tonight was that in today’s world of social media, it’s way too easy to get involved in someone’s else’s life, put your nose where it doesn’t belong, and dish the dirt about each other. Who’s going to stop us? Only ourselves. This is the thing with boundaries. They’re just as much if not more so about the limits you place on yourself as the ones you place on others.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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Old Patterns Die Hard (Blog #861)

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Well crap. After my stomach calmed down yesterday, it revved back up today. This morning I woke up with more energy and thought, Maybe I could work in yard. So, y’all, I actually changed clothes and pulled out the mower. It’s not too hot, I thought, and the yard really NEEDS cutting. Alas, before I could even start the mower, my rumbly tumbly started up instead. Hot-footing it to the bathroom, I thought, Okay, fine. I’ll keep resting.

You win again, body.

Thankfully, things were only dramatic for about thirty minutes. I doubled down on the boring, tummy-friendly foods (bananas, rice, applesauce, and yogurt), and I’ve basically been fine ever since. This afternoon I watched a movie (The Good Shepherd) and a documentary (The Magic Pill, about the benefits of the paleo/ketogenic diet). Then I did a small handyman project in my parents’ kitchen, then this evening I went to Walmart (for more bananas, rice, applesauce, and yogurt). Anyway, fingers crossed, I’m on the mend. Regardless, I’m promising myself that–either way–I’m going to change shirts tomorrow. I’ve been wearing this one for three days!

It’s sexy, I know.

For a while this afternoon I got frustrated because there’s a lot I haven’t gotten DONE this week. For example, mowing my parents’ lawn, as well as two other lawns I’m responsible for. My dad said, “You can’t help it if you’re sick, Marcus,” and yet there’s still this internal pressure to be productive, to be “responsible.” However, the truth is, I am being responsible–to myself. I’m supporting my body. I’m resting. I’m relaxing.

I’m healing.

This evening I heard a story about a woman, a codependent, who got cancer. No shit, her family, whom she had always taken care of, were irritated with her for being sick–because she couldn’t attend to their wants and needs. Dr. Gabor Mate would say this woman’s illness is an example of how the body can say no, meaning that when things are out of balance in our lives, it’s usually our bodies that speak up and ask us to do something about it. Like, Hey, Houston, we have a problem here. STOP TAKING CARE OF EVERYBODY EXCEPT YOURSELF.

At the bare minimum, being sick teaches me to rest. I’m always talking about how I go-go-go and push-push-push, and although I can logically agree that that’s not the best way to live, I keep doing it. Old patterns die hard. But lately I’ve been thinking about slowing down, maybe spending more time in nature, so it’s possible my being laid up for a few days is my body’s way of saying, Yes, please, we could use a break. Additionally, like in the example above, being sick teaches me to put myself first. I’ve been so concerned about mowing these people’s lawns–like, What will they think?–but the truth is I could never mow their lawns again and the world would be okay. I wouldn’t deliberately not fulfill my commitments to someone, but if I couldn’t or they weren’t willing to graciously wait until I feel better, it would all work out.

Grass has been growing since the beginning of time.

For me, one of the most difficult and shocking things about personal growth has been admitting that the world is drastically different than I thought it was. Said another way, it’s been admitting that I was wrong. For example, I’ve spent most my life believing I had to be “nice” and put the needs of others above my own. I’ve thought I couldn’t or shouldn’t speak up or set boundaries. I’ve thought I had to be perfect, had to be productive. As it turns out, all of these beliefs were bullshit. Are bullshit. I’m not telling anyone else what to believe, I’m just saying my life has functioned just fine–better, actually–without these self-made rules.

You have to be willing to change.

Do these beliefs still creep up every now and then? Of course they do. I spent years smoking cigarettes off and on, and they still hold a certain appeal. Old patterns die hard. But just like I can’t rationally say that smoking cigarettes is a GOOD idea, I can’t rationally say that being a people pleaser, a perfectionist, or a workaholic is a GOOD idea either. These patterns may have been useful at one time in my life, but they’re certainly not serving me well now. At least, as my therapist would say, when I use them as my “daily driver.” This is the other thing that’s difficult about personal growth–you have to be willing to adopt new patterns. You have to be willing to look at the evidence that is your life, say, “Sweetheart, this isn’t working for us anymore,” and change.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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On Where You Are Anchored (Blog #845)

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Here’s something weird. A few days ago I went shopping and bought two new t-shirts. One of them, pictured above, has an anchor on it. I don’t know why I bought it. I used to have a necklace with an anchor on it, but I’m not particularly attracted to either anchors or sailing. I more of a landlubber. Still, I liked the shirt’s color and length, and it was the right price. Seven bucks. Can’t beat that. Well, I guess you can, since the other shirt I bought was two. But how often does THAT happen? Once in a blue moon.

Anyway, here’s the weird part. That night I started watching an online video series called Sacred Power with Caroline Myss. In the first episode she explained that each of us is quite literally an energetic being and that we all receive energy (or power) through the top of our heads, what’s often called the crown chakra in yoga. The she said that as a medical intuitive, which is essentially someone who can “read” someone else’s energy system, she could tell where a person was losing energy. When I blogged about this the other night I gave the example of my recently running into someone I didn’t want to see and how I felt like I was going to shit my pants. This means that on some level, at least for that moment, I’d given my energy or power away. If you imagined a human-shaped balloon filled with water and then imagined someone poking a big hole in that balloon’s stomach, that’s what I felt like.

Houston, we have a problem.

I realize I still haven’t told you the weird part. Hang on, I’m getting there. Caroline further explained that as a medical intuitive she gets pictures or images of where a person’s energy is “going” or who or what it’s “attached” to. For example, if you wake up every day worrying about money, pissed off at someone, or holding a grudge about something that happened to you thirty years ago, she’d get an impression of that. Strange, I know, but you can walk into a room and know when someone you love is hurt, angry, or confused before they even say a word. We’re all sensitive to energy. Caroline has simply (and finely) honed a skill we all have. Anyway, most of this information was old hat to me, but then Caroline said something I’d never heard her say before. (Remember I’d just bought that shirt.) She said, “I call these energy leaks ANCHORS.”

When I heard her say this, something clicked for me. What I mean is that I get the idea of leaking energy, a balloon that’s losing water. But an anchor paints a different picture. An energetic anchor means that you’re tied to something in the past, something outside of you that that’s holding you down and holding you back. That is, the more energetic anchors you have, the slower you move through life.

As if the synchronicity of this situation weren’t enough to think about and be amazed by, yesterday I taught a dance lesson, and one of my students (who used to be a music teacher) said she called the “one” (the first beat in a measure) the ANCHOR.

“That’s my word of the week,” I said, and we left it at that.

Then today I saw her husband (my chiropractor), and he referenced my comment yesterday and said, “I’d like you to read something,” an excerpt from the book The Energy Codes by Sue Morter. Essentially, the passage spoke about how we can project our energy outside of ourselves. We all do this, for example, when we fall in love or put someone on a pedestal. Quite literally, we give part of ourselves (or spirit) to that other person (or object, say, if you’re in love with or can’t part with–I don’t know–your favorite pair of shoes). Anyway, Sue suggests a process called “central channel breathing,” which Judith Blackstone (who wrote Trauma and the Unbound Body) also recommends. This involves breathing “from” three (Blackstone) or four (Morter) of your energy centers or chakras, which are located along your spine. For a brief explanation, click here. In my experience this type of breathing provides a sense of being CENTERED. Sue calls it being ANCHORED.

Tonight, in another synchronistic moment, my dad, without any previous explanation from me, commented on my shirt and said, “Are you anchored to yourself?”

“That’s the idea!” I said.

What I mean is that our bodies, souls, and spirits operate best when we are anchored INTERNALLY rather than EXTERNALLY. That is, YOUR energy belongs in YOUR body. But when you worry about anything, hold grudges, or project your emotions (verbally vomit, my therapist says) on someone else, you’re essentially investing your domestic energetic dollars in a foreign bank. This is why Jesus spoke so much of giving no thought for tomorrow and of forgiving others. Both worrying and refusing to “let go” anchor or tie you down to either the future or the past. Neither of which exist outside of the thoughts in your head, by the way. So better to be right here, right now, anchored within. Better to be free.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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On Tick Bites, Emotions, and Self-Acceptance (Blog #817)

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This morning my dad said he had an area on his back that had been “itching for weeks” but that he couldn’t see. You know that spot in between your shoulder blades. Well, sure enough, he had what I initially thought was a mole that was red and inflamed. Pissed off, really. Dad said, “I’ve been scratching it with the back scratcher.” Alas, this story doesn’t end here. As I took a closer look at Dad’s mole, I discovered it was a tick. An honest-to-god, bloodsucking dog tick. And, y’all it was still alive. I can’t tell you how grossed out I was. (I’ll spare you the picture I took.) I thought, These things wouldn’t happen if you had your own apartment, Marcus. Still, I rubbed the tick with an alcohol swab, and it backed out. Then I flushed it down the toilet.

Following The Great Back Tick Incident of 2019, I rushed around today from one thing to another. First I taught a dance lesson. Then I saw my therapist. Then I saw my physical therapist. Then I saw my massage therapist, then my chiropractor. I know, I know, all this help, and I STILL have problems. What can I say? It’s hard out here for a pimp. Anyway, finally, this evening, I attended my friend Marla’s short story writing class. And whereas I stayed up late last night and TRIED to write the middle of the story I started last week, I didn’t get very far, just a hundred words.

When I confessed my “sin” of not having written more this last week, Marla said, “That’s okay, you got a hundred words. A hundred words is something.” And whereas my inner perfectionist disagrees and thinks a hundred words isn’t “enough,” I know she’s right. A couple months ago I completed what was supposed to be a 1,000 piece puzzle only to find out that a single, solitary piece was missing. Talk about wanting to pull my hair out. Still, the point remains, every piece of a puzzle is important. Likewise, every word, sentence, and paragraph in a story is important. For one thing, you never know where something will lead, what something is connected to.

This is what I keep telling myself as I’m working on my short story, that it’s just as important to get all the pieces laid out on the table as it is to put them all together. Indeed, when writing, you’ve got to find out what you’re working with. This means sitting down consistently and shaking your conscious and subconscious minds out onto the page. THEN you can begin to arrange, THEN you can begin to make sense of things. Marla says writing is “so healing” because, in effect, you get to use your characters to work through all your issues. I agree. Even though I haven’t written a lot of fiction, this project has taught me that if you want good writing, you’ve got to let everything inside you bubble up.

Lately I’ve been having dreams in which either I or someone else has been 1) yelling or 2) behaving like a slut. Always in these dreams there’s another person, or me, doing just the opposite–speaking calmly or being a perfect gentleman. My therapist says the meaning of the dreams is obvious. Good Boy Marcus and Bad Boy Marcus are “trying to figure things out.” This is what you have to face whenever you write or otherwise decide to work on yourself–that, in the words of Uncle Walt (Whitman), you contain multitudes. For me this means that although I’m almost always a “real nice guy,” I have the potential to be (and sometimes am) a real prick. (“What’s wrong with being an asshole?” my therapist says.) Though I’m usually a finicky prude, I have the potential to be a real whore.

As one book I read about one’s shadow said, the back is as big as the front.

Honestly, I don’t like this setup. I’d much rather think of myself as all this and none of that. However, having spent years believing that parts of me were bad and needed to be ignored, silenced, flushed out, or otherwise done away with and having tried unsuccessfully to eradicate these parts of my personality, I’ve finally come around to a rather novel concept–total self-acceptance. This means all of the Marcuses are welcome here–Marcus the Nice Guy, Marcus the Asshole, Marcus the Prude, Marcus the Slut (as long as he’s not stupid). Now, does this mean that I’m going to go to any of these extremes? No. (Don’t worry, Mom.) But it does mean that every part of me is going to be heard before any final decision is made about pressing matters.

There’s an idea in the world of healing that your body only creates pain or discomfort when it believes there is something wrong. For example, my dad’s back itched because his skin had a tick attached to it. So the itching was actually a good thing. It was a signal that something needed attention. This is what I’m truly coming to believe about our emotions–that every single one of them is there to help us. They show up to say, Houston, we have a problem. Or, if it’s anger that shows up, Houston, we have a fucking problem! Of course, at times our emotions can be explosive. In my experience this happens when I shove them down. Oh no, I’m not angry. Alas, ignored emotions, like ignored ticks, only grow bigger. So the sooner you listen to (every part of) yourself, the better.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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On Butt Cheeks and Teeth Cleaning (Blog #537)

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It’s six o’clock in the evening, and I’ve stopped at the library on my way to a dance lesson, telling myself, Thirty minutes to write is thirty minutes to write. I’ve been on this kick the last few days–a little bit at a time, a little bit at a time–so this is just one more example. Earlier today I did a light workout at home–some leg lunges, push-ups, and squats–followed by a good amount of stretching. I found the workout routine on Pinterest. Anything to get started, I told myself. And whereas I didn’t do the routine exactly as “prescribed,” I did do something.

Sixteen push-ups is sixteen push-ups.

After I worked out, I watched a YouTube video about people who have one butt-cheek that’s bigger than the other (like I do). Apparently this is a common thing and can be caused by hamstrings that do more work than they should (and thus keep the glutes from doing their job) or hip flexors that are too tight. Anyway, recently I read that you should basically stop thinking of yourself as an anomaly, like, My hips and my body are uneven, and that’s just the way it is, since somebody, somewhere in history has surely experienced the exact same problems you have and has PROBABLY written or created a YouTube video about their solutions.

In other words, there are answers out there.

This afternoon I got my teeth cleaned for the first time in fifteen months. This is something I tend to put off whenever I’m low on cash, but it’s also something that rises to the top of my priority list whenever I decide to be more health conscious. It’s weird–whenever I’m all into tacos and beer, I think, Screw my teeth. But as soon as I decide to clean up my diet and go running every day, I all-of-a-sudden think I’m more–what’s the word?–deserving of a plaque-free smile. I’m sure I could make something of that, the idea that I don’t think I’m “worthy” to go to the dentist unless I also have a flat stomach, but I’ll leave that one to my therapist. Rather, I think positive actions simply have a synergistic effect–if you’re taking care of yourself in one area, it’s easier to take care of yourself in another.

When I walked into the dentist’s office, there was some kid–a little girl, I think–absolutely bawling her eyes out. At least that’s what it sounded like. I couldn’t see her, but EVERYONE could hear her. This girl had some serious pipes on her, and whatever the dentist was doing, she didn’t like it one bit. Whine, whine, whine. It was terrible to listen to. You should have been there! The lady at the front desk even apologized on this girl’s behalf. “I hope you didn’t come here to relax,” she said.

Like anyone goes to the dentist’s office to relax.

Now it’s time to teach dance, and I’m still thinking about that little girl and how clearly traumatized she was by whatever went on today in her mouth. It was positively awful for me to “witness.” I kept thinking, Is whatever you’re doing REALLY that important? Couldn’t it wait until junior high, Mr. Dentist? Whatever, I’m glad it’s not my job. Still, despite the disruption to my personal peace, I’m impressed with anyone who can vocalize without inhibition, anyone who can let the world know, Houston, we have a problem. I’m in pain over here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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