Shine (Blog #328)

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This afternoon I spoke to the immunologist’s office, and they said they were waiting on my internist’s office for further lab results, results I’m pretty sure don’t exist. They said, “We get so many referrals, we typically don’t take new clients unless they have lab results showing an active infection.” I sent a message to my internist asking where we go from here–and I see her next week–but I don’t mind saying it’s difficult to advocate for yourself when you’re not feeling well. This, of course, is exactly when you need to advocate for yourself–when you don’t have the energy to do so. As Alanis Morissette said, “Isn’t it ironic?”

It really is funny how quickly your standards can change. Six months ago I wouldn’t have thought anything about making a phone call to ask for a doctor’s appointment. Today it took all the emotional strength I had. Maybe emotional strength and physical strength go together. After I got off the phone with the doctor’s office, I took a shower and returned some spark plugs to the auto supply store (because my mechanic told me the spark plugs were crap), and I was ready for a nap afterwards. Instead I came to my parents’ house and met my mechanic, who replaced my spark plugs (with ones he bought) then told me I could stand to have additional work (a throttle cleanup) done.

So that was good news.

Now I’m hanging out at home in order to raid the refrigerator and get the blog done. It’s been keeping me up the last few nights, and I’d like to have it checked off my to-do list for the day. This way I can pass out later if I want to. Honestly, I never thought this would be my life–constantly worn out, willing to work but unable to, discussing my problems on the internet. I remember once telling the universe that I could handle whatever it threw my way. I wasn’t trying to be cocky, but simply affirming my inner strength. I said, “I can do this. Bring it on.” Now I’d like to say–“I take it back.”

Pressure is necessary to positive internal change.

Joseph Campbell says, “Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not. The crisis throws you back, and when you are required to exhibit strength, it comes.” This is a statement that sounds great when your life is going well and is a real kick in the nuts when it’s not. Nothing can happen to you that’s not positive. Please. What chronically ill person is going to have THAT tattooed on their forearm? But here’s the thing–deep down, I really do believe that. Like a lump of coal under extreme pressure, I know that a profound transformation is happening here. Slowly, but it’s happening. I’m already stronger than I was six months ago, and I’m sure that wouldn’t be the case were it not for the physical and emotional challenges I’m currently facing. Honestly, I hate that life is set up this way, but it is. Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don’t shine on their own.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

Resolute (Blog #313)

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Somewhere between a year and a year-and-a-half ago, I was getting ready to close my dance studio and move out of The Big House, the place I called home for over two years. (We called it The Big House because it was a big house. Some things aren’t complicated.) Between the closing of the studio and the time I moved out of my home, there was a three-week period, during which time I worked frantically to finish unfinished remodeling projects around the house. The last project I finished was the upstairs bathroom, the room with the clawfoot tub I used to love to soak in. It really was a last-minute deal–I was still putting paint on the walls my last week there. Still, I went ahead and decorated the entire bathroom–hung up pictures, put a rug on the floor, the whole bit. I figured as long as I lived there, I was gonna live there.

Next to the clawfoot tub was a gas space heater, something that came in rather handy during the winter months. On top of the heater I put a lamp, and next to the lamp, a wooden tray. I think the tray was designed as a kitchen item, but I used it to hold a bar of soap, as well as a candle I’d picked out especially for the bathroom, even though I’m not a candle person. But that final week, I fell in love with THAT candle. Every night I’d crawl into the clawfoot tub after lighting the candle, and while I listened to Fleetwood Mac, the light from the candle would dance with the shadows on the walls.

It’s another story, but The Big House had come to me when my life was a mess. I’d just started therapy and had gotten out of a terrible (no good, very bad) relationship in which there was a lot of yelling. In that relationship, I felt like a ship being tossed about by a storm that wouldn’t relent. Then for the first time in over six months, the storm subsided–everything got still. I found myself in this big house, and it was quiet. Three thousand square feet where I could hear myself think. A place of peace where I could lay my head at night and figure myself out. Looking back, I can see that at the same time I was remodeling the house, I was remodeling myself. Granted, now I look the same on the outside, maybe a few more wrinkles, but I’m different where it counts. My standards are higher, I won’t let myself be walked on, I speak up for myself. In short, I love myself more. So for the place that held me safe while all these renovations went on, I’m eternally grateful.

Getting ready to move out that final week, I went through every single thing I owned. One item at a time, I decided what to keep, what to sell, and what to give away. By the time it was all over, I went from all my possessions being able to fit into The Big House to being able to fit into my Honda Civic, Polly. I sold most the things in the upstairs bathroom, or gave them away, but I decided to take the wooden soap tray and the candle. Ever since then, I’ve used the tray to hold objects that I consider sacred–a small vial of holy water, a beautiful spiritual necklace I never wear on the outside of my shirt, a paperweight that belonged to my uncle when he was alive. I call it my traveling altar. At some point I started putting my jewelry on the altar. It began with a small ring I got at Disney World when I was seven that says, “Marcus,” my logic being that surely I’m a sacred object too.

I’ve always kept the candle in the middle of the tray. In addition to being a stereotypical spiritual thing to have around, the candle inspires me because of the message printed on the outside of it. It says, simply, “Resolute.” For over a year now, every time I see the candle, I think the same thing I thought when I bought it–I don’t know what lies ahead, but I’m determined to see myself through it. My therapist and I discussed this recently. We were talking about strengths that are born out of hardships, and I said that I’m resolute and determined because things were so shitty for so long. Now I don’t give up. I absolutely know this ship can weather any storm. My therapist said that the best people she knows–the ones who are the kindest and the strongest–are the ones who have lived through hell and have found a way to not be bitter about it. “It’s what happens when you refuse to be a victim,” she said.

Lately I’ve been burning the Resolute candle every day while I meditate and do chi kung. It’s become this ritual. I turn off all the other lights in the room, usually put on some sort of instrumental music, and always light the candle. (Growing up, I never imagined I would be someone who does this sort of thing.) Anyway, I guess there’s something powerful about rituals. Sometimes all I have to do is light the candle and take a few steps toward the center of the room, and I being to cry. It’s like seeing that flame is all my body needs to let go. Joseph Campbell says your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again, and I guess that’s what my traveling altar has become–a place where I can heal.

Yesterday I lit my Resolute candle for the last time. It burned out, ran out of wax before my meditation was even over. When I threw it away earlier this evening, I felt like I did when I walked out of The Big House for the last time. A little lost. Tonight I replaced my Resolute candle with the only other candle I could find around the house–a pale green one labeled “Mint Chocolate Chip.” Honestly, burning it tonight during meditation wasn’t the same. I kept thinking it smelled like–well–fat. Like, I probably gained two pounds just by taking the lid off. Still, its flame burned just as bright. Also, having lived through hell, I know my being Resolute has nothing to do with a physical candle that used to sit on my traveling altar. Rather, that flame burns deep within me, and the real altar is my body, my heart, my soul. As it turns out, I am the sacred space which I take everywhere I go, the sacred space where I can find myself over and over again, the sacred space where I can heal.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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What Interests Me, What Interests My Body (Blog #291)

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It’s two-thirty in the morning, and I’m not sure how the day got away from me. Well, yes I am. Dad and I watched a documentary about Robin Williams, and I finished reading a book about meditation then made further progress in one about figuring out the most important thing you can do every day. (I’m in the middle of the book, so I still don’t know what that thing is, but I’m thinking, Breathe–breathe is the most important thing I can do every day.) Currently I’m propped up in my waterbed, which is not an easy thing to do. I feel like I’m going to fold in on myself, like a jackknife, any minute now. But at least it’s warm here. I love it. It’s like a full-body heating pad.

Winter, winter, go away.

I’ve blogged a number of times about the idea that the body can release stress and trauma through shaking or quivering. This is a process that happens naturally in many mammals, but humans often intellectually shut it off or aren’t aware they can access it. Anyway, there are some exercises, called trauma release exercises or TRE, that encourage shaking, and I’ve been working with them lately. (I’ve blogged about this most recently here.) Today I watched a video about trauma release exercises that said at first you have to go through this whole setup to fatigue your muscles and start them quivering (what a funny word), but after a while it doesn’t require much. This has been my experience. Sometimes my legs will start shaking with minimal encouragement–even when that’s not my intention. Not just randomly, like a seizure, but like if I’m doing yoga or some other stretching.

Today my legs started vibrating while I was reading in bed. I had them propped up a certain way, which I guess put tension on my adductors, and bam! All of a sudden it felt as if I was lying on one of those vibrating beds at a cheap motel. Not that I’ve ever done that. So I just let my body do it’s thing from the waist down and kept reading from the waist up. (Why not multitask?) Later I watched a video of someone else experiencing TRE, and I noticed that whereas only my legs jerked, their entire body jerked about, like a Pentecostal on the floor. (It really was fascinating to watch. Next time I’m breaking out the popcorn.) Anyway, I started comparing myself. I thought, It’d be really nice for MY back to vibrate like that. Maybe it would help my headaches. Am I broken from the waist up? Is something wrong with my back-shaker? Do I need to put another quarter in this thing?

For Christmas my friend Matt gave me an Amazon gift card. Talk about the perfect thing. You can buy everything (from A to Z) there. Plus, this boy loves to read–real books, digital books, you name it. And Amazon has them all. So this evening I went through all my Amazon wish lists, sifting through hundreds of books I’ve marked as interesting over the years. Whenever a title jumped out as “still interesting,” I jotted it down, along with the price. I knew I could buy several things, but I’d still have to think about it. When it was all said and done, there were several “serious” books and several “fun” books, including an out-of-print, limited-edition collection of dance photographs I’ve been wanting for over a year but haven’t been willing to “splurge” on. Well, I finally decided, Tonight’s the night. I bought all the fun books. I mean, I’m up to my ears in serious reading material, and–what the hell!–it’s Christmas.

Thanks, Matt!

As I scanned through my Amazon wish lists, I noted several books that I’m honestly not interested in anymore. Only a handful of them seem currently fascinating. I try to trust this. Sometimes I grit through a book because I “should” and am usually disappointed by the last page. What a waste of time, I think. But when a book seems fascinating from the get-go, when I’m actually enthusiastic about reading it–those are the books that make the biggest difference, the ones that stick with me. Joseph Campbell says, “Follow your bliss,” and I’m realizing you can’t fake your bliss. You can’t fake what excites you, or even what interests you. This applies to little things like books, as well as big things like work and sexuality.

You’re either into something or you’re not.

My friend that I had dinner with last night said she really believed the body had its own mind, its own wisdom. So I’ve been telling myself tonight that my body knows more about healing than I do. If it wants to shake its legs and not its shoulders, there’s probably a good reason for it. Maybe it wants to work on issues at the base before it moves higher. Either way, like me and some of those books on my wish lists, at this point in time, it’s simply not that interested. Maybe it will be interested in “shaking loose” other areas later. So I’m trying to be patient, trying to trust both my body and its inner compass, trying to let this mystery unfold one page at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.

"

Life and the Ouroboros (#273)

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This afternoon my aunt Carla and I took my nephews to Chick-fil-A. Y’all, the place was absolutely hopping. Apparently all you need is fried chicken and a kids’ play area to be the hottest family lunch spot this side of the Mississippi. There were children running everywhere. I only have two nephews, but I was doing a head count every fifteen seconds. I kept thinking, Your sister will not be happy if you lose one of her offspring. After we ate, the boys took their socks and shoes off and played in the activity zone for a while, crawling up ladders, sliding through tunnels. There were a bunch of other kids in there, all of them basically caged in behind a glass wall, their parents on the other side taking pictures. All I could think was that it was just one big germ pit, a place for toddlers to exchange cooties and challenge their immune systems.

When all that was over, we went to the Arkansas River Valley Nature Center in Fort Smith. Today was my first time there, at least the inside part, and it really was cool. They had a ton of information about wildlife and a lot of hands-on stations for learning about the outdoors. There were displays about rock formations, fossils, birds, bats, you name it. Most of the animals were fake or stuffed, but they did have several live fish and reptiles, including four poisonous snakes. We even got to watch a real “snake feeding,” which was simply a man throwing a live mouse into a snake pit, at which point one of the snakes bit the mouse then calmly waited for it to die. Talk about a cold-blooded killer. Personally, I was excited to see the snake swallow the dead mouse, but my older nephew didn’t want to stick around. He said, “I’m not a snake and don’t need to know what a mouse tastes like.”

Well shit. For the last three hours I’ve been otherwise occupied. My sister, my brother-in-law, and I started a new puzzle last night, and it keeps pulling me away from the blog. I really haven’t felt that great today, and since I tend to worry about my health, the puzzle has been the perfect thing to distract me from 1) dramatically convincing myself that I’m dying, and 2) writing about it. It’s just allergies, Marcus. A little post-nasal drip. Anyway, I worked at the puzzle until my eyes crossed, and now I’m back to blogging. It’s almost eleven in the evening, which is the latest I’ve written in the last three weeks.

Since it’s close to bedtime, I’m looking forward to wrapping this up and crawling in bed. It’ll be the warmest I’ve been all day. Plus, I started a new Netflix series a couple nights ago, and maybe I can get an episode in before I pass out. The show is called Ozark, and so far I’m four episodes in. It’s absolutely delicious. It’s about a man who moves his family to the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri in order to launder eight million dollars for the Mexican drug lord who’s threatening to kill him if he doesn’t. Talk about someone with problems. The more I watch the show, the better my life looks by comparison. I mean, I may be unemployed and running a little low on energy, but at least no one is trying to put a cap in my ass.

That I know of, that is.

I never did get to see that snake eat that mouse today. But watching the snake bite the mouse made me think of something Joseph Campbell talks about. He says that life is a monstrous, violent affair, one thing having to die so that another can live. He says that only life exists, and it has to eat itself in order to survive. This idea is represented by many ancient symbols, the most prominent being the ouroboros, the snake that swallows its own tail. I think this is Jesus meant when he said there is no death. It’s not that mice aren’t killed by snakes, that cabbages and cows aren’t killed by humans, and that humans aren’t killed by–I don’t know–allergies, sinus infections, drug lords, and whatever. Everything that enters into the physical world eventually leaves it. But life itself continues. Having no beginning and no end, it manifests itself as everything you can think of (including me and you), and–although it appears to be changing constantly–doesn’t actually change at all.

 

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."

Life: Perfect As It Is (Blog #271)

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Praise the lord and all the saints–I’m feeling so much better. Pretty much all of my sinus junk is gone. That being said, my body is tired, probably from the storm it just came through or maybe from allergies. I haven’t figured out how to solve that problem yet. It bothers me that I do this, by the way, talk about my ailments so much, like an old person. Specifically it bothers me that I’ve vastly improved but am hyper-focused on what little bit still needs fixing. I’m sure this is the perfectionist in me. It’s not enough that things are “mostly working,” so I spend half the day thinking about how I can combine vitamins, herbal teas, and anti-histamines in order to produce a “complete” miracle.

I should probably get out of the house, do something to distract myself.

My own mother said, ‘Marc, you look pretty gay.’

Last night I took a nap and woke up to the conversation of my parents and sister and brother-in-law. Part of it centered around a new jacket my aunt bought for my mom, this winter wraparound situation that came from Walmart. When I came out of my room, my sister was wearing it and talking about how great it was. “Really warm, and they come in every color.” Well, before it was all said and done, I tried it on, and everyone was absolutely right. Both warm and cozy, it was like a blanket with pockets. It felt like wearing a dream. Still, it was distinctly feminine, and my own mother said, “Marc, you look pretty gay.”

“Good,” I said as I lifted my chin in the air. “I am pretty gay. Now pass me my martini.”

Currently I’m wearing the jacket, and I don’t know what it’s made out of, but I’m sure it was invented by NASA. I simply couldn’t be more comfortable. Well, I guess I could be more comfortable, that is if I had a pair of underwear and a pair of socks made out of this stuff. Hell, why don’t we just throw in a pair of pants while we’re wishing? Actually, I think a matching holiday outfit would be just the ticket, the perfect thing to carry me through until tank-top weather.

For the last day my older nephew has been bugging me to watch a video game tutorial with him online, something about Bugs Bunny. My impression is that this could take a while, and I keep telling him, “But I don’t even own a video game system.” With all the logic of a seven-year-old, he replies, “You can buy one.” Anyway, this became a big damn deal earlier. I had just started the blog, and he was all up in my business, not taking no for an answer. Eventually, my sister had to get involved. This sort of thing happens a lot with him–he’s really determined and has a strong will. These aren’t bad qualities to possess, of course, it just depends on what you apply them to. For example, I think it’s fine for me to push toward figuring out my health problems or getting this blog done every day, but there comes a point when I have to chill out and realize what’s beyond my immediate control. No wonder I get exhausted. You can’t push all the time and expect to never hit a wall.

You don’t need to change a thing in order to be happy.

I guess we all have our ideas about how life should go. We want to be healthier, we want to be warmer, we want to watch Bugs Bunny–whatever. Joseph Campbell says there are three basic types of mythologies or ways of looking at the world. The first type says life is suffering–let’s get enlightened and get out of here. The second type says there are two powers running around down here–good and evil–let’s increase the good and make the world a better place. The last type, however, which is actually the oldest of the three, affirms life exactly as it, with all its ups and downs, pluses and minuses, sufferings and exultations. It says life is perfect–period. This is a philosophy that’s tough to swallow, but it’s the one that makes the most sense to me, the one I’m trying to come around to, the idea that you don’t need to change a thing in order to be happy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

"

I’ll Take the Slow Grind (Blog #256)

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Last night I listened to an interview with Bob Walter, the man who runs the Joseph Campbell Foundation. (You know I’m a big Joseph Campbell fan.) Well, apparently at one point Bob and Joe started a publishing company to get Joe’s message out, and Bob had to be a little pushy. “No one is interested in this stuff,” Joe said.

“You mean you get discouraged?” Bob said.

“Of course I get discouraged,” Joe said. “I’m human.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and the collection of stickers on her laptop continues to grow. Since I last saw her, she’s added a “no texting” sticker, as well as one of a skeleton sitting at a computer that says, “The Internet–Please enjoy everybody’s opinion.” Also, she had two new rings on her fingers, both of which were serious bling and could easily anchor a medium-sized boat in the middle of a hurricane. Naturally, I was jealous. To be clear, I’m not talking about diamonds–this was straight up costume jewelry. “Absolutely fabulous,” I said.

“You know, I’m trying some new things,” she said.

Most of our time today was spent talking about personal change, about how it’s not as easy as everyone, all the people who write books, make it out to be. This is one of my pet peeves lately, that self-help material, vitamin shops, and online yoga classes aren’t more up front about the fact that while helpful, they’re not a panacea. Rather–and I get that everyone’s trying to make a dollar–they make it sound like if you buy their product, you’ll be eternally happy, find the perfect sex-hungry partner, and have wrinkle-free skin. I can’t tell you how long I bought into this crap. I still struggle with it. Who doesn’t want a magic bullet?

“You’re not the only one who’s been given that impression,” my therapist said. “But transformation is real fucking hard. It’s the slow grind. There’s no other way.”

The–slow–grind. No kidding. That’s been my experience. I’ve spent more time in the self-help, psychology, philosophy, and spirituality aisles in the bookstore than anyone else I know–I have a rockstar therapist I’ve seen consistently for over three years–these are just facts. And if there’s something I could pass on from all my time and effort, it’d be this–a better life is completely possible, but it’s a long, tough ride to get there. (Saddle up, partner.) I realize this isn’t what people want to hear–I don’t want to hear it–but it’s the truth. “It just takes patience,” my therapist says. “And patience is a bitch.”

After therapy I had lunch with my friend Ray. I haven’t seen him in maybe a month, and it was truly a shot in the arm. We laughed, then laughed some more. For a while Ray and I talked about getting discouraged, the slow grind, and being patient as change occurs. Ray said he thought a big element of success was simply continuing to show up–to therapy, a support group, even a dance class. Again, I guess this is the idea that change and transformation come in little pieces. Rarely is something a “one and done.”

Being authentic isn’t for sissies.

I can’t tell you how much I hate this–little pieces, being patient, all of it. I wish transformation were easier, and, like Joe, I often get discouraged with this path. Being authentic isn’t for sissies. I get on the internet, read everybody’s opinion, and it’s easy to feel as if I’m doing something wrong. People comment online and send me private messages, tell me I’d be better off if I did something different with my hair, wore other clothes, didn’t cuss so much, or smiled more. I mention this because it’s something else most teachers don’t talk about. They tell you to be authentic–wear gaudy jewelry if you want to!–but they don’t tell you that the more true to yourself you are, the more pushback you get, often from people you care about.

I don’t mind saying this sucks.

I realize this take on the long, tough ride of transformation and the challenges of being authentic isn’t exactly encouraging. It wouldn’t sound great on an infomercial. But wait, there’s more–it gets worse before it gets better! But I wouldn’t be sharing these opinions if they weren’t my honest experience and if I didn’t absolutely believe that all the hard work and all the continuing to show up were worth it. Because I do. Sure, there are days when I get discouraged and feel like I’m going nowhere. I’m human too. But I’ll take my worst day now over my best day five years ago because now I’m being real. I’m closer to myself every day. And if the slow grind is what it takes to get me closer to myself, I’ll take the slow grind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is progressing as it should.

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The Mystery Inside the Circle (Blog #248)

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It’s just after midnight, and I’ve been cranky all day. I noticed it earlier while I was reading. The television was on, the kitchen sink was running, the microwave was beeping, and nothing would shut up. I just want it to be quiet. I just want to the world to be quiet. So I took a shower, shaved my face, and that helped a little–but only a little. At some point I realized my bad mood was simply the result of being ill. I really do feel better than I did a week ago, but my energy level is still shot, and I still have drainage. Then when I did a sinus rinse and saw some mucus, I thought, What if I still have an infection? Well, then I started to freak out. You know how one thought leads to another. What if it never goes away? What if this is the rest of my life? Why does the universe hate me?

I know this thinking is dramatic.

Probably the best thing I could do at this point would be go to bed. Like for a month, but at least until the morning. But again, I have this blog to write. I realize this blog is strictly my choice, so I hope it doesn’t appear that I’m nailing myself to a cross or anything. But I don’t mind saying that keeping your commitments and exercising personal willpower are difficult things to do when you’re not feeling your best. This is something I really struggle with whenever I’m under the weather–do I keep pushing, eating good meals, searching the internet for answers, or do I give up, grab a bowl of ice cream, and let nature take its course?

Currently I’m leaning toward the ice cream.

It seems that whenever I’m worried about one thing, I’m worried about everything. Perhaps this is seeing the world through shit-colored glasses. (Where did these come from?) But it seems that the hope I have for feeling better is somehow tied to the hope I have for being more self-sufficient, is somehow tied to the hope I have for having my own family one day. It’s like my body and all my hopes and dreams are tied together in a big knot, and if one thing goes down, we all go down together. Logically I know that my allergies (or whatever) have nothing to do with whether or not I’ll be living with my parents when I’m forty, but in this moment I can’t untie the knot.

Earlier I cried while watching an America’s Got Talent audition in which the comedian Drew Lynch got the Golden Buzzer and went straight to the next round. This is something I think I could do more of, crying. Having stuffed things down for so long, I know there’s a lot that would like to come to the surface. And whereas I’ve made a lot of progress in the area of expressing emotions, I know my tendency is to strengthen my defenses rather than soften them. On days like today, my muscles automatically tighten. I think, I can handle this. But part of me just wants to admit it–I’m tired of being strong, and I don’t have all the answers.

This afternoon I went for a two-hour walk and listened to Joseph Campbell. It really is the strangest thing walking the streets of your hometown. Today I went to the city park, and I remember being there as a child. There’s a spot by the woods where my sister ran into a barbed wire fence. There’s a house on the other side where I used to get my hair cut. That’s when I was blonde (naturally). On the way home I looked to my right and saw the back of the house where my grandmother used to live and thought, Why haven’t I seen that before? I know it’s been fifteen years since she’s been alive, twenty since I mowed her lawn, but I can still remember us standing there in her yard like it was yesterday–just like I can remember the barbed wire fence incident and my blonde hair or–more recently–where I was standing when my first nephew was born. It’s all mixed up together as if time didn’t exist.

My man Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything–a rock, an animal, a planet–and say, “What is it?” Granted, we have names and labels for everything in our physical world. You could say, “Duh, that’s a rock, and that’s Jupiter (a rock in the sky).” But the point is, when was the last time you looked at something you see every day and let it be what it truly is–a mystery? As I was leaving the park, a flock of geese took off from the water and flew right in front me in their trademark V. For a moment, I was totally stunned. How is it that I’m lucky enough to live in a universe where birds fly?

Tonight was not only the last full moon of the year, but it was also a super moon, which is when the moon is closet to the earth. Earlier I stepped outside and saw it moving behind the clouds, and it was like seeing those geese at the park, this absolute wonder flying through the heavens. But surely our lives are wonders too, these knots of emotions and memories that fall down one day and fly the next. Surely you could draw a circle around us, for we are as complicated and as beautiful as any planet. Better yet, I think, to draw a circle around yourself, to see yourself for the mystery that you are, and know that mysteries aren’t supposed to have all the answers.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

"

The Best Part of the Adventure (Blog #232)

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Currently I’m in Springfield, Missouri, just back from a quick trip to Branson with my dancer friends Anne, Andy, and Matt. I’ve got to get up early in the morning, and the longer tonight’s blog takes to write, the less Daddy gets to sleep. I’d really thought about blogging today before I hit the road, but my body said, “Sleep–sleep or else.” Honestly, when I did get out of bed today, I felt worse than I did before I went to the doctor–my eyes were red, my body was jittery. “That’s the steroid,” my dad said. “It can absolutely do that.” Most the day, I’ve been coughing–that’s new too. Now I’m scared that the medicine won’t help and might actually hurt. Also, I’m imagining that I’ll be chronically ill until I die sometime in my mid-fifties–single and alone–at which point my body will finally be removed from my parents’ house.

Maybe I’m being dramatic.

As the day has gone on, I’ve perked up a little. The three-hour drive to Springfield went well, and I spent most the time listening to Joseph Campbell talk about mythology. He’s dead, of course, but over sixty-five of his talks are available through his foundation’s website, as well as on Google Play. And not that I keep a list of the ones I’ve listened to or anything, but I’ve listened to thirty-seven of them as of today. (I obviously keep a list of the ones I’ve listened to.) Anyway, Joseph Campbell is one of my favorite teachers, and I’ve spent so much time with his voice in my ears, I feel like he’s become a friend too–my man JC.

When I got to town, my friends and I packed up and headed to Branson, straight for Silver Dollar City. Y’all, I went to Silver Dollar City for the first and only time when I turned thirty, so it’s been a minute. But Anne suggested seeing the Christmas lights, and–oh my gosh–what a great idea that turned out to be. There were lights EVERYWHERE–on buildings, in trees, suspended in the air–it was gorgeous. Not only that, but the lights on the buildings were all lined up and turned in the same direction. My little OCD heart just soared. Honestly, I was so busy staring that I didn’t take any decent pictures, but if you Google “Silver Dollar City Christmas Lights,” you’ll get an idea.

Here’s a picture of one of our first stops–it’s the four of us pretending to be gingerbread people. We asked a couple to take our picture, and they quickly turned the task over to their angsty, headphone-wearing teenage son. Well, junior did NOT seem impressed with being volunteered, so I thought about saying, It’s okay for you to say no. That’s called having a boundary. But figuring he could take himself to therapy in his thirties like I did, I just shut my mouth, let him take the damn picture, and said, “Thank you so much.”

Since we were only at the park for a couple of hours, we spent most our time riding roller coasters. Well, Andy, Matt, and I did. Anne said she always–always–pukes on roller coasters, so she graciously stayed behind and watched our things. Having a personal aversion to being vomited on, I think this situation was a win-win for everyone. Y’all, it was awesome tonight–the weather was delightful (67 degrees), and none of the lines were long. In fact, we didn’t have to wait more than five or ten minutes to ride any of the four roller coasters we went on. On top of that, we were always in the front three rows. Talk about Christmas coming early.

I know some people hate them and some people puke on them, but I love roller coasters–the sudden drops, the loops that go upside down, the corkscrews. I always scream, then laugh, then scream some more. I guess what I love more than anything else is the thrill, the surprise of it all, the adventure, all of which were amplified tonight because the rides were in the dark–and everything is better in the dark.

That’s what she said.

During one ride, it did occur to me that an accident could happen. Like, a screw could come loose, and I could connect with a tree the way a bug connects with a windshield. (But then I guess my sinus infection wouldn’t matter.) I’m not trying to be morbid, but I’m just saying–these things do happen. I have a friend on Facebook who was on his way to the emergency room recently because he thought he had the flu, but he ended up being t-boned before he got there. He survived, but he had to be cut out of his truck with the jaws of life. Anyway, I can only assume the flu quickly dropped down on his list of problems. With this in mind, I’d like to publicly state that even though I often complain when I don’t feel well, I AM grateful to be alive and not currently plastered to a tree at a quaint little theme park in Branson, Missouri.

Another thing I thought about on one of the roller coaster rides was the fact that I wasn’t in control of the ride. I mean, I got on the thing, but at the point at which my seatbelt fastened and the guy hit the green button, I wasn’t in control anymore. When we got to the top and were about to be dropped straight down, it was too late for me to do anything except scream or pee my pants. (For the record, I screamed.) Anyway (actually while we were doing corkscrews), I realized I’m also already on the ride of life. Some days I’m at the top, and some days I’m at the bottom. (For a while now it’s felt like I’ve been going around in circles.) Anyway, I can scream and complain all I want, but the one thing I can’t do is get off the ride or control what’s going to happen next.

And I hate that.

You know how sometimes you get so wrapped up in what you’re doing that you lose yourself, maybe when you’re holding a baby in your arms, reading a good book, or dancing with someone you love? Well, this happened to me a few times tonight while I was either staring at all the beautiful lights or being whipped around on the roller coasters. The moments didn’t last very long, but when they did, I forgot about my sinus infection and the fact that I don’t currently have an income. My man JC calls moments like these aesthetic arrest, and they’re moments when we’re fully present, times when we’re not afraid of or wanting something, but are simply in a state of wonder about life as it is right here, right now. Of course, like a roller coaster ride, life is an adventure–right here, right now is constantly changing. But I’m starting to believe the best part the adventure is that state of wonder that never changes and–what’s more–is always available to us, no matter how good or bad we’re feeling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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One Damn Thing after Another (Blog #227)

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I haven’t done squat today but am worn out. Well, I did go for a walk and also went to Walmart to buy groceries. But otherwise I haven’t done much. Still, something has zapped my energy. Maybe it’s the junk hanging on, the change in my diet, or allergies and the weather. Regardless, I think God meant for us to hibernate during the winter–crawl in a cave with the bears, snuggle up, and snooze right through Christ’s birthday. I mean, the lord doesn’t seem like the type who’d want a piñata or any sort of big fuss made over him. But seriously, just imagine sleeping all winter–we could wake up refreshed in the spring, say, “Happy Belated, Jesus,” and pick up where we left off. Personally, I’d really enjoy that, even though it’s obviously not going to happen. A mere ten hours from now I have to wake up to get ready for therapy, then it’s just one damn thing after another.

Whenever I eat the way I’m currently eating, there comes a point at which I start getting light-headed. For the most part it’s not dramatic, simply something I notice when I first stand up or bend down. Well, it’s been happening today, this sense of dizziness whenever I change positions, and it’s starting to bother me. The internet says the wooziness is due to a decrease in carbohydrates and mild dehydration. So, despite the fact that I’m already drinking so many fluids that I’m going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes, I guess I’ll up my water intake. Also, one of my friends said to try salt because salt helps with fluid retention, so I’ll give that a whirl too.

Stuff like being low on energy and getting light-headed always freaks me out. Like, I should probably go ahead and see if the retirement center has a spare room, maybe even pick out a casket. God forbid I ever have something actually wrong with me. All that being said, I know I often bitch and joke about my health issues (if they could even be called issues), so I’d like to take this opportunity to acknowledge that although I have a few things I’d like to see improve, my body is actually knocking most things out of the park lately.

For example, for months I blogged off and on about body odor, but I haven’t had an issue with it in weeks. Whatever it was finally worked itself out. Also, since starting the diet a couple weeks ago, I don’t think I’ve had a headache one time, I’m not coughing up green junk every morning, and I can actually feel my hip bones! Anyway, I guess I have a tendency to look at all the things that aren’t working, so I’m trying not to forget what is working.

So, way to go, armpits–I’m proud of you!

This evening, in an effort to be a dutiful son, I helped my dad change a few light bulbs. However, while I was changing one of three bulbs in the light in my dad’s bedroom, the entire fixture flickered, then sizzled, then burned out. Well shit, I thought. Since other electrical items in the room also went out, it quickly became apparent that a fuse had been blown. Of course, something like this should be easy enough to fix–just walk out to the garage, flip a switch, and you’re back in business. But is that what happened tonight?

No, no it is not what happened.

Since our fuse box isn’t labeled, my first mistake was thinking my dad and I could easily make a chart of what does what. With this plan in mind, I called my dad on his house phone from my cell phone, marched out to the garage, and started flipping switches. Did that turn anything off? Did THAT turn anything off? I practically had my dad doing laps around the house playing What Light Bulb Is Off Now? (I’ll take The Laundry Room for a thousand.) And whereas my dad isn’t in the best shape and was breathing hard, he was a trooper–we were on the phone for twenty minutes. Well, we got most of the house electrically mapped out, but we couldn’t get the fuse for his room to come back on. Finally, it dawned on us that the light fixture itself had not only crapped out, but had also burned some wires in the process. So that’ll be a project for later.

About two paragraphs ago, my mom told me the link I posted to last night’s blog wasn’t working. Since a similar thing happened once before (on my birthday), I assumed it was the site’s security certificate, which is what allows for the more secure website prefix of https and not the oh-so-ordinary http. Anyway, for the last hour I’ve been chatting online with someone in India whose responses were coming so slowly that we might as well have been communicating by carrier pigeon. Unfortunately, things got worse before they got better–at first my site simply wasn’t working–then it was redirecting to an asbestos company–then I couldn’t sign in to post anything new. “But don’t worry,” the guy said, “it’ll all be working in 4 to 48 hours.”

Okay–uh–thanks for your help.

Nothing was made to last forever.

As my friend Matt said when I told him what was going on, “Technology is great when it works.” Well, thankfully, it only took thirty minutes for everything to go back to normal, which means I’ll be able to post this tonight and not have to wait. Honestly, I don’t know why shit like this happens. I don’t know why our bodies, light bulbs, and websites stop working at times. I guess nothing was made to last forever, to always operate smoothly without any hiccups. Earlier tonight I listened to a lecture by Joseph Campbell, the mythologist, and he said that the question we have to ask ourselves is whether or not we’re going to say yes to life the way it is and not the way we want it to be. This reminds me to take everything as it comes (one damn thing after another), to be grateful that most things work most of the time, and to label both the good and the bad as “just life.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

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The Roles We Play (Blog #215)

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Today is Halloween, the day children and adults alike dress up and pretend to be something they’re not. So when I woke up this morning still sick and feeling like crap, I decided I’d pretend to feel good. A healthy person–that’s what I’ll be today! Now I just have to put one foot in front of the other. I really do think my sinus infection is getting better–I have less “junk”–but lately my energy level has been shit. I’m hoping this is because my body is pooling its resources in an effort to heal, maybe make me rest so it can get busy performing a miracle. I like these ideas better than thinking my body is simply throwing in the towel, something I truthfully feel like doing. As the saying goes, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

With this in mind, I’m considering starting a restrictive diet tomorrow in order to give my body a reset. I messaged my friend April today, and she said sometimes she cleans up her sinuses by basically eating chicken, a few fruits, and certain cooked vegetables. She said it takes two weeks for your body to “start over” and four weeks to get the best results. Honestly, this sounds like hell–but I’ve done something similar before, so surely I can do it again. Plus, I really think my body could use some help–help that doesn’t look like chocolate cake and Taco Bell, as I’m pretty sure those aren’t immune system boosters.

This evening I drove to Fayetteville and had dinner with my friend CJ. She told me my hair looked good–different–gayer. Ten years ago a statement like this would have horrified me, like, My hair looks gay? What if someone thinks I am? But tonight I said, “That’s fantastic–I am gay. Better if my hair is too.”

For dinner I had a reuben sandwich on rye, french fries, and a pickle. None of that, of course, will be on the diet I’m starting tomorrow, so tonight I kept thinking, This is my last piece of bread, this is my last french fry, this is my last supper. Oh my god, y’all, I ate my last supper on Halloween–just like Jesus!

Oh wait. His last supper was on Easter–er–Passover. (Holidays are so confusing.)

When we finished eating, CJ and I attended The Rocky Horror Picture Show (my mom called it Rocky Mountain Horror) at Walton Arts Center. I saw a live stage performance of Rocky Horror recently, but tonight was the traditional deal–the movie playing on a big screen, people dressed up as the characters and using props, everyone calling Brad an asshole and Janet a slut. Granted, CJ and I didn’t dress up or use props, but we at least got out of our seats and danced the entire Time Warp, which the couple next to us did not.

Losers.

Here’s a picture of the costume contest that went on before the show. The couple that dressed as Eddie (the guy with the saxophone) and Columbia (the girl in gold sequins and a top hat) won the contest, but if anyone knows Rocky (the naked guy with all the muscles), I’d like to give him a consolation prize. God, Marcus, you don’t have to share every thought that pops into your brain. Your mother reads this, for crying out loud.

If you’re familiar with Rocky Horror, you know audience members throw a lot of shit–toilet paper when they say, “Dr. Scott,” toast when they say, “A toast!” Well, as all that toast was flying through the air tonight, I just assumed it was plain old bread. I didn’t figure people would go through the trouble of actually–well–toasting it. I mean, entire loaves were being thrown–that’s a lot of work. But when the lights came on, sure enough, every piece I saw was burned on both sides. Talk about dedication. Well, shit. Now all I can think about is eating toast. I guess I could get up and make some. I mean, the diet doesn’t technically start until tomorrow.

Far be it from me to overachieve.

This morning I read an article by Joseph Campbell about the history and meaning of Halloween. (It’s long, but you can find it here.) In it he says that Halloween represents dying and is the mythological opposite of May Day, which represents being born. He also says that costumes remind us of the everyday masks we wear. (Can you believe some people pretend to be straight when they’re actually gay?) It’s okay to have roles, of course–dance teacher, writer, whatever. But problems arise when we pretend to be something we’re not or–even worse–mistake the roles we play for our true selves, since ultimately our souls are beyond identification.

All things are part of life.

I’ve said it before, but I don’t like this time of year. It’s cold, everything is dead, and I spend the entire fall and winter shivering. I honestly can’t believe I’m about to start a diet and probably lose the only natural insulation I have. That being said, I’m reminded tonight that to everything there is a season. I have a preference for spring and summer, but the universe clearly doesn’t. Rather, all things–coldness and warmth, fall and spring, death and rebirth–are part of life. Likewise, getting sick and running low on energy are part of life, and just like any season, these things will change.

As for the roles we play, I’ve personally decided to keep pretending that I feel well. Since I pretended to be straight for so long, this should be a cinch. I don’t mean I’m going to ignore my body or not let it rest, but I am going to start asking myself, “What would a healthy person do–what would a healthy person eat?” and then do that. I usually get overwhelmed by dietary changes, so I figure this will be an easy way to simplify things, support my body, and start turning things around. I’ll let you know how it goes.

After toast tonight, of course.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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