On Learning a New Language (Blog #680)

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Here’s something fun. Sitting or standing up, flex all your toes into the floor. Then try to lift only your big toe(s), but leave the other 4 (or 8) on the ground. Do this several times. Big toe up, big toe down. Then reverse the process. Keep your big toe(s) on the ground, but lift the others. Go ahead, try it.

See if you don’t cuss.

I got this exercise from Kate Galliett and The Unbreakable Body, an online coaching program I signed up for years ago and recently rediscovered. The exercise is meant to rebuild and/or strengthen the arches in your feet, which, by the way, you apparently have three of on each foot, not just one. For me, the exercise is difficult, especially the second part, especially with my left foot. My toes shake and quiver and won’t do what my brain tells them to. (My nephews don’t obey me either.) And whereas that’s frustrating as hell, it motivates me to keep trying.

With my toes and my nephews.

Kate says that if you were going to learn a new language you’d learn a little at a time and it would be awkward at first, and it’s the same with your body. If you want to learn a new movement, or even teach your tense muscles how to relax, it’s going to take time. But positive changes can occur. You just have to slowly teach your body the language you want it to learn. Relax, be strong, be mobile, whatever.

Lift your damn toes in the air.

This idea of language has been on my mind today. This afternoon I finished reading a book by Joseph Murphy about your subconscious mind and positive self-talk. I have an off-and-on relationship with these types of books, the kind that tell you to affirm the things in your life that you want to see increase or grow. Sometimes I think they’re fabulous. Sometimes I think they’re crap. Still, I can’t deny there’s an inner monologue going on in my brain virtually all day long, and it makes sense to me for that monologue to be positive (God, you’re a handsome devil, Mr. Coker) rather than negative (I’m so disgusting, I’m going to eat a worm). I mean, if I have a choice in what I think (and why wouldn’t I, it’s my brain), I might as well choose thoughts that feel good rather than thoughts that feel bad.

Along these lines, the book said one positive affirmation is, “I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about (blank).” I really like this. Recently someone gave me crap about my long hair. I was not amused by this. (My therapist says it’s not appropriate for one adult to tell another adult how to live their life. I agree.) I bring it up because even if the entire fucking world told me they didn’t like my hair, I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about any part of my body. Likewise, even if someone has done me wrong (ripped my heart out and stomped that sucker flat), I don’t have to think bad thoughts about them. Indeed, I can wish them well if I want to, if for no other reason than letting go of a grudge feels better than holding on to one.

I am the only thinker in my universe.

Granted, it’s not easy to turn your thoughts around, just like it’s not easy to control your awkward toes (if you toes are anything like mine, that is). It’s not easy to learn a new language. Most of today I’ve felt nervous and fearful. Not because anything bad is looming on the horizon, but I do have a few tasks and appointments coming up this next week that I’m not looking forward to. Hell, I didn’t want to write tonight’s blog. Even now I’d rather be watching a movie and zoning out. My point being that along with my feeling nervous and fearful, I’ve had nervous and fearful thoughts (duh). What if I do something wrong? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not good enough? And whereas I wish I could immediately banish these thoughts and feelings, I can’t.

Learning a new language is hard.

Still, I am determined to learn–determined to learn how to lift up my little toes while my big toe stays on the ground, determined to learn how to think about the world differently. Everything’s going to be okay. People like me (and if they don’t, fuck them). I’m good enough. And I’m finding there’s a lot of relief in just starting. That is, even though I can’t lift my toes quite right, I’ve started to learn, so the process isn’t as intimidating as it was before. Even though my self-talk has a long way to go, I’m at least aware of what’s going on “up there.” They’re just thoughts, and thoughts are changeable. Nothing is set in stone.

More and more, I’m learning to not come at myself with a sledgehammer. My dad’s been going with me to work out at night, and tonight he said, “I’m trying to add one or two new exercises each time we go.” How perfect is that? A month ago when I started going to the gym to rehab my leg, I wasn’t even breaking a sweat. But, like my dad, I’ve been adding in exercises one at time, and now I leave the gym glistening. (My next goal: leaving with a wet t-shirt.) So both at the gym and at home, I’m trying to add in good habits, add in good thoughts. I keep telling myself, Sweetheart, be patient. We’re learning a new language.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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

"

Chasing Cassiopeia (Blog #449)

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Having the day free, I spent this afternoon reading, first in a book called Healing and the Mind by Bill Moyers, then in a book called The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Joesph Murphy. By the time I’d read fifty pages in each book, my brain was bleeding, so I took a nap. When I woke up, convinced I needed to make today “a reading day,” I turned my attention to my beginner’s astronomy book. However, my mind couldn’t handle any more information. It was full. Plus, being cooped up in the house all day, I was growing restless, irritable.

About sunset I told my parents, “I’m going for a walk.”

Manned with my phone and an astronomy app, I determined to use my walk as an opportunity to identify stars and planets. For the last week I’ve been stargazing after midnight, so I thought being out around nine would not only let me see a few different stars, but would also let me see which stars “come out” first. (Some of us take longer than others.) Y’all, I can’t tell you what a great time I had. I learned in the book today that all the planets (and our sun and moon) travel (basically) along what’s called the elliptic, a narrow band in the sky that’s somewhat like a racetrack for the galaxy’s major players. The first ones to show up on the track as the sun sets? The two brightest planets–Venus (in the west) and Jupiter (currently close to the moon in the south).

For two hours I walked around Van Buren, listening to podcasts and periodically checking my phone against the night sky. Starting out I found Castor and Pollux, the two brightest stars in the constellation Gemini (in the west). Tonight was my first time to deliberately and consciously see them. As they dipped below the horizon, I turned my attention to what have this week become easy constellations for me to spot–The Big Dipper, The North Star and The Little Dipper, The Northern Cross, The Summer Triangle (which isn’t technically a constellation but rather three bright stars in three separate constellations), and Scorpius. Then I found Saturn in the southeast (in Capricorn), trailing behind Jupiter (in Scorpio) along the ecliptic.

I realize this jargon may not make sense. A week ago I would have been totally confused by this information and am just beginning to sort it all out. Today I learned that the ecliptic travels through twelve constellations (the zodiac). Or at least it used to. Things have shifted a bit. But still, astronomers and astrologers make reference to these twelve constellations all the time. Zodiac means “circle of little animals,” fitting since the majority of the twelve constellations or zodiac signs are animals. If you can find the ecliptic, “the signs” will appear along it in the order (or reverse order) they appear during the calendar year (starting around the Spring Equinox)–Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo (where Venus is currently), Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. For those interested in the zodiac (and–uh–horoscopes), your “sun sign” is the constellation along the ecliptic that the sun was “in” at the time you were born.

Anyway, the stars were all I could think about tonight. For the last week I’ve been looking for Cassiopeia, the famous w-shaped constellation in the northern sky. I’d read that if you know how to find The North Star using The Big Dipper (and the last two stars in the ladle), you can follow that arc to Cassiopeia, the mythological queen who was banished to the night sky by Poseidon for her vanity. However, until tonight I couldn’t find her–I’ve been looking from my driveway, and I guess she’s been behind the neighbors’ houses. But as I got close to home about ten-thirty this evening, I saw her peeking out between some trees. Y’all, I got so excited.

And then I got pissed because all the streetlights and car lights kept making her hard to see.

Finally, I came up with a plan. Back inside the house, I asked Dad if he wanted to drive out-of-town to look for stars, to chase Cassiopeia. Five minutes later, we were piled into Tom Collins (my car), on the hunt. We went to three different places, each about ten minutes from the house, each with different vantage points. And whereas we could still see the city lights, being farther away from them made spotting the stars MUCH easier. At the first location, Cassiopeia was still behind some trees, but the sky was dark enough for me to find Draco the Dragon, something I haven’t been able to do from my driveway. Then at the second location, there she was in all her glory–Cassiopeia, the Queen.

Speaking as a queen myself, she looked fabulous.

Finally, at the third location, Dad and I found Mars, which had just shown up in the southeast along the ecliptic. (It’s reddish). I was thrilled. I kept driving the car a little farther down the road, turning off the lights, getting out, checking the sky. Yep, they’re still there. Back in our driveway about midnight, I looked again. This time, even with the city lights, I was able to find Cassiopeia, Draco, Mars–all my new friends. I suppose they were there all along, I just didn’t know how to find them. I don’t know why this delights me so much, star hunting. There’s something about seeing what the ancients saw, something about finding my place in the heavens. Plus I think, What other wonders–friends–are right in front of me, just waiting for me to finally notice?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."