On Humble Beginnings (Blog #634)

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It’s an hour before midnight on Christmas Eve, and I’ve spent most the day cuddled up in my favorite chair, reading. For me, today has been like most any other, since our family stopped celebrating Christmas over twenty years ago. It’s a long story. Part of me wishes I could go back and rewrite it, since I think traditions are important and my thinking around this particular tradition has changed a lot. But, of course, it’s hard to wind back the clock. Plus, once you’ve lost the magic of something, it’s difficult to regain it.

But not impossible, perhaps.

Really, I’m fine with this. Sure, when I see pictures of others celebrating with friends and loved ones and opening presents, a part of me misses that. But I’ve been with my family all day long, and I haven’t had to spend a dime on presents. Which is good, since I don’t have a dime. But I do miss the sparkle around the season. I used to adore decorating the tree and putting up lights on the outside of the house. Really, looking back at how I’d climb on the roof and meticulously unscrew and re-screw every bulb until they were perfectly arranged–green, red, green, red–someone should have told me a long time ago that I was a homosexual. Anyway, the last few years I’ve made an effort to participate and celebrate, if only a little. This year I helped a friend decorate the outside of their house. I was in a holiday variety show.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

I think one of the hardest things to do is accept your life both as it is and how it’s been. Especially in today’s world of social media, it’s so easy to compare yourself to others. Just scroll through your phone for a minute–one minute!–and you can see everything you’re not in terms of looks, friends, prestige, and holiday celebrations. But to really sit with your story, with all your humble beginnings, this is a tough thing to do. My mom’s been depressed since I was a child. Our home burned down when I was four. My dad went to prison. As if this weren’t enough to make us different, we stopped celebrating Christmas, and (years later) I came out of the closet.

This evening my sister, her husband, and their boys went to a friend’s house for dinner. A friend of theirs and their family ended up being there–because their home burned down tonight. The family was okay, but their pets died. This went on while my parents and I went out to eat at Chili’s and I shoved down a plateful of fajitas, two beers, and a chocolate molten lava cake. Granted, it wasn’t extravagant in terms of “what’s expected,” but we were together. Anyway, this is the world we live in. The worst things happen alongside the best things.

Back home from dinner, I returned to my reading chair. After my sister and her crew got home, my older nephew, who spends most his time in his own world and really isn’t into socializing, crawled up in my chair and read his comic book alongside me. Didn’t say a word. Just snuggled up between one armrest and me and turned his pages. It was the sweetest thing; I wouldn’t trade the thirty minutes he sat there for the world. Who’s to say if this would have happened in a living room full of packages? I mean, I’ve seen my nephew around presents.

It wouldn’t have happened.

Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me a pack of positive affirmation cards called AFFIRMATORS!, and they’re my new favorite thing. There are over fifty cards in the pack, and the idea is that you shuffle them “like a three year-old” and pull one out at random. Well, get this shit. Three times today (out of four) I pulled out the same card–Magic. I’m including a picture of it here, but the idea is that life is a great mystery, and we’re surrounded by serendipity and wonderful, inexplicable happenings. Anyway, on a day that used to be filled with magic for me, during a time in my life that’s so difficult, it was the perfect reminder that miracles can occur in the most unlikely of places and circumstances.

Just after I pulled this card for the first time, I got a text message from a friend from high school that I haven’t talked to in–I don’t know–five or ten years. I guess they were last-minute shopping; they wanted to buy some dance lessons. This ended up being the perfect thing. They got a gift to give to someone they care about, and I got some cash (which I really needed). Anyway, I kept hearing my therapist’s voice in my head, since a couple weeks ago, after having injured my knee, I was bemoaning my financial prospects and suggested I could liquidate a few things. “Naw,” my therapist said, “let the universe do something.” And so it did. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

Magic.

In other good news, the skin rash that I’ve had for the last few weeks is finally getting better. Like, not just a little; a lot. I’ll spare you the details, but I figured out the right cream to use on it. Maybe this seems like a small matter, but when life’s knocked you down over and over (and over) again, it’s really delightful to be on the receiving end of a win. And in light of the fact that I’ll be having knee surgery in a day and a half, it’s nice knowing my body isn’t completely falling apart and that something’s on the mend. It’s good to be reminded that with a little persistence (and not a little magic) things can improve.

God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings.

Despite the fact that I’m not currently surrounded by the trappings of Christmas, I keep thinking about the mythological image of Jesus being born in a manger. I love that part of the story, since it reminds me that God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings. Shit, I can only imagine what Joseph and Mary must have felt like that night–worn out, tired, pregnant, no room in the inn. Surely one of them must have thought, God, I could use a break tonight. I could use a little magic here. Personally, I would have been pissed. Especially if I were Mary. I would have been looking everywhere for Gabriel, and when I found him I would have said, “You mean to tell me that first The Divine knocks me up, and now he wants me to deliver his kid in a barn?!” But I’m reminded tonight that The Divine is into this, into stories that don’t make sense from a human perspective, into “what seems small is big.”

With these things in mind, I’m doing my best to honor my story, including my past and present, as it is and not as I wish it were. Because no matter how humble or challenging and no matter how it compares to another’s, this is my life–my one, unique, and precious life. And no matter what, being alive is a gift. No matter how dark the night or bleak the circumstances, if you’re alive, you’re alive, and you’re story’s not over. And who’s to say what The Divine will make of your humble beginnings?

Who’s to say what magic lies ahead?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.

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A Simple Acorn (Blog #541)

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Last night I had a friend visit from out-of-town, and we spent the evening catching up and partying. Specifically, at dinner, I drank a frozen margarita bigger than my head. It was delicious. I enjoyed every drop. That being said, I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, so perhaps I overdid it. I don’t know. I’m still learning about moderation.

This morning–because of the margarita–I woke up later than usual, so my no-caffeine-past-noon rule got pushed back a couple hours. Otherwise, I’ve put myself back on track today. I ate three sensible meals. I drank a lot of water. I went for a run (in the rain). I stretched.

Yesterday I blogged that I’m not exercising for the current benefits, but rather for the future benefits. In other words, I don’t need immediate results, nor do I expect the changes produced by my workouts to be like my oatmeal (instant). Granted, I’m sure there are immediate physical benefits to exercising like reduced stressed and increased blood circulation, but my point was that you don’t get a flat stomach as a reward for one jog around the neighborhood. One of my friends pointed out, however, that there ARE immediate EMOTIONAL benefits to working out. I agree. Not only do I feel more “alive” when I exercise, but I also have an increased sense of accomplishment and self-esteem as I go throughout the day.

I spent this afternoon reading a chapter or two in four different books–one about the history of alchemy, one about the sun and moon, one about why we sleep (I’ve mentioned this one before), and one about money (something that terrifies me, so I’ve decided to learn more about it). Part of me thinks I “should” just pick one book and read it all the way through, but that’s simply not how I roll. (The book about money said that anytime you use the word “should,” you could replace it with the word “want” and see if the statement is still true for you. “I WANT to pick one book and read it all the way through.” No, that’s not true for me. I’d rather read several concurrently.)

Lately I’ve been thinking about the idea of “the slight edge,” a theory (and book by Jeff Olson) that proposes (among other things) that if you were to read just ten pages in a book every day, you would reliably read three-hundred pages of new material every month. Go figure, math. Anyway, this concept can obviously be applied to other endeavors besides reading. You could eat a little better every morning. You could walk a bit further every evening. The slight edge–it’s just another way of explaining what I’ve been saying over and over again for the last week–small actions, done consistently, add up.

There’s an idea in spiritual and psychological circles that says one of the goals of healing is to take the emotional charge out of your memories. In other words, if something that happened five or fifteen or twenty-five years ago still makes you angry, upset, or distraught, that’s a clue that part of you is “stuck” there, since events that are fully processed and integrated tend to have a “neutral” quality about them. Anyway, the book I’m reading about money says the same thing–money in and of itself should be a neutral experience for you–it shouldn’t be emotionally charged with worry, shame, embarrassment, or disgust.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

One of the exercises the book proposes is to write down your top ten negative thoughts about money–you know–those “biggies” that automatically pop into your brain whenever a bill shows up in your mailbox or whenever you reach for your wallet and find it thinner than you’d like it to be. For example, one negative thought might be, “There’s never enough.” So just before blogging, I did this, then I did the next part of the exercise, which was to write an OPPOSITE thought or affirmation about money. I’ll spare you all twenty statements that I came up with, but here are four of them (two pairs of negatives and their opposites)–

Negative thought: It won’t work.
Positive thought: It will work. The universe always find a way. I always find a way.

Negative thought: I’ll always be poor.
Positive thought: I’ll always be prosperous. I couldn’t keep money away even if I wanted to.

So get this shit. Not two minutes after I finished this exercise and wrote, “I couldn’t keep money away even if I wanted to,” a friend of mine texted me about a job opportunity, some temporary work that’s available for ten days starting next week. And whereas I’m hard-headed (I thought, It won’t work), I’m not THAT hard-headed, so I checked into it, and as of now, it’s gonna happen. (I’ll write more about it as things materialize.) Granted, it’s not my dream job or my dream pay, but it is A JOB and it is GOOD PAY. Plus, it sounds fun. Like, I WANT to do it. And as my dad said, “You never know what will happen. You could meet someone. This could turn into something else.”

The universe always find a way.

One of favorite mythological images is that of the baby Jesus in the manger. Taken as a symbol and not just a matter of history, this picture of the Son of God being born in a stable teaches us to not judge a person’s (or a situation’s) potential by the package they’re delivered in. (Don’t judge a book, or a savior, by it’s cover.) Caroline Myss points out that the divine works in paradoxes. What seems big is small. What seems small is big. In other words, despise not small actions. Despise not small beginnings. The largest oak tree begins as a simple acorn.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s never too late to be your own friend.

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