Better Together (Blog #1096!)

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Dear Marcus,

It’s been a bumpy ride. Six years ago two days from now we were passed out drunk and naked, hugging a toilet seat, having just broken up with the first and only person we’ve ever thought we were going to marry. It wasn’t pretty. And boy were we wrong about him. (Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.) Anyway, it was touch and go there for a while. We didn’t know where we were going to live, how we were going to pay the rent, or how we were going to heal That Which Was Broken. We were so confused. Thankfully, only one week before all of this occurred we had our first therapy session and met our guardian angel. (Who knew angels could wear Kesha T-shirts and curse like sailors?) Which just goes to show you that Maria in The Sound of Music was right. When the lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.

Granted, there were some rough days, some hole-in-our chest moments when nothing made sense. Now we know this was simply The Mystery, The Necessary Mystery. Said another way, it was The Healing. Which is, of course, crooked as a dog’s hind leg, anything but fun, and, well, just plain gross at times. For us it meant a lot of time in therapy, completely rewiring the way we thought, getting some damn boundaries, and changing or saying goodbye to oh-so-many relationships. Also, and I’m sorry about this, it meant a lot of empty pockets.

I’ll explain.

Despite the fact that you’d done a lot of internal work three-and-a-half years ago, the powers that be weren’t quite satisfied. As it turns out, they demand the best. In other words, they want the best for us. So they did what they often do when someone they care about isn’t living up to their full potential. They make them absolutely miserable. In your case this misery pushed you to close your dance studio, sell most of your earthly possessions, and move from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fayetteville, Arkansas, with the intention of moving to Austin, Texas, where many people (who haven’t checked your Facebook page in over three years) still think you are. Even though you never went. Indeed, that was your plan. But not you-know-who’s plan, which is why it didn’t work out. (He always gets his way.) This is why it was a good thing you didn’t have more money than you did. Because–let’s face it–if you’d had the money you would have gone “come hell or high water” and missed out on The Opportunity.

Because you’re so damn stubborn.

Also, don’t worry. Stubbornness is a good thing. Because life isn’t for sissies. It just means that you don’t always have the most patience. Like someone recently told you, “You’re happy to give God the reigns, but if he hasn’t done anything with them in ten minutes you take them back.”

(Correct.)

Getting back to your move to Fayetteville, that obviously didn’t work out either, and I know that few adult men would be thrilled about moving back in with their parents. Which you had to do. But again, this was by design. As you’ve told a number of people these last three years, it’s given you a chance to mend, heal, and grow relationships you couldn’t have otherwise. It’s given you a chance to be understanding. And to be understood. And whereas it’s tempting to think you’ve somehow missed out on life because you haven’t spent the last three years making a shitpot full of money or “being like everybody else,” the things you’ve busied yourself about are the things that really matter and make life WORTH living. The things that matter to your soul and the things that make you fully human.

So never regret getting to know me.

Please.

It’s worth every minute.

I promise.

Speaking of the last few years and specifically what you’ve done with and through this blog, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I realize it hasn’t set the world, or even the internet, on fire, but it has set us on fire. Again, this is what matters. For us, this has been the royal road, the way, The Path. The Path out of suffering. The Path back home. Sure, you didn’t have any idea what you were getting yourself into when you sat down three years ago tomorrow and wrote your first post, but I did. Additionally, through both your best days and your most challenging days, your–what’s the phrase you use?–that-makes-my-ass-want-buttermilk kind of days, I’ve been cheering you on and nudging you forward. Darling, don’t give up. Don’t you dare give up. I’m waiting for you.

I know this hasn’t been easy. I also know that you’re not quite sure where to go from here. There’s a part of you that wants to hang on to this project that’s been so good for us. And still there’s another part that’s so effing ready to let go, so excited to see what’s next that you can hardly wait to hit Publish and move on. Allow all your feelings, but lean into this second part. Get excited. You’ve worked your ass off here, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Congratulations! Celebrate. Your life’s not over, it’s only just beginning. What’s more, although I know you often think and believe that you try, try, try and get nowhere, all your hard work has actually paid off. It continues to pay off. You read all those damn books about healing, and now you’re one of those people those books talk about. Yes, we know things aren’t perfect, but you’re headed in the right direction. So keep going. And just know that you’re already a success story.

You know those magical days when you wake up and you can see it, feel it, almost taste it? Those days when you absolutely know that you’re exactly where you need to be, learning and doing what you need to be learning and doing? Those days when you know nothing is an accident, that the people who are in your life, all those wonderful friends, teachers, and mentors, were sent to you for a reason? That you were sent to each other for a reason? Those days when you can feel in your bones that nothing is random? Well, keep thinking these things, keep believing these things. You’ll doubt at times, of course, since that’s what the mind does here on planet earth. But know that I never do. My faith in you and The Way of It is rock solid.

My faith in us is rock solid.

So keep your chin up.

You know that Joseph Campbell fella you’re so madly in love with? He said, “Schopenhauer said that when you go through life, this character appears, that character appears, and it all seems accidental at the time it is happening. Then when you get on in your sixties or seventies and look back, your life looks like a well-planned novel with a coherent theme. Things have happened, you realize, in an appropriate way. Incidents that seemed to be accidental, pure chance, turn out to be major elements in the structuring of this novel. Schopenhauer says, ‘Who wrote the novel? You did.'” I couldn’t agree more. Things have happened in an appropriate way. But it’s not that you wrote the novel, it’s that I did. We did. So from here on out, just know that you have a partner in all this.

No one is alone, and that includes you.

Going forward, I’m not discouraging you from planning. I know you like to do that. And yet, as you’ve come to see time and time again, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. What’s more, sometimes what you think are the worst things turn out to be the best things. Because they put us on the path back to ourselves. Really, this is the only path there is. The only game in town, it’s the pearl of great value, the true buried treasure, the kingdom of heaven. So it’s worth all the time, pain, and heartache and whatever you have to give up in order to find it. It’s worth all The Hard Work, all the icky emotions and past experiences you have to dig through and sort out, and all the judgment you have to endure from others and yourself. Because when it’s all said and done, what profits a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul?

All this to say, Marcus, please stay open to what’s coming down the pike. Please stay open to, and expect, miracles. They happen. And are kind of God’s thing. Also, please remember the he/she/it is rather fond of you. Just like I’m rather fond of you. I mean, good lord, you’re a knockout, you’re smart as whip and have a killer personality and sense of humor (although I know your family may disagree, but, in the words of your father, they have to live with you), and you have a good rear end to boot. What’s not to love? Said another way, what more do you want?

(Some cash would be nice.)

Relax, already. It’s coming. We’re in the middle of a recession.

But seriously, you’ve been given everything you need to succeed. And whereas this has always been the case, now that you’ve walked the royal road, you know it. Deep down. What’s more, now that you’ve come to know yourself, things are going to get easier. The next half of your life is going to look so much different than the first half. So much better. Not that you’ll never face another challenge again–you certainly will–but you’ll handle things better. With more grace. There will be a steadiness about you that you didn’t have before, a confidence, an internal anchor. A part of you that knows that, come what may, I have what it takes and am going to be all right. And just know that if the world ever gets to be too much, you can always reach out and find me. You can sit down at this keyboard ANY TIME YOU’D LIKE, and we can fix whatever it is together. Or just call my name, and I’ll come running.

That is if I don’t call you first. Which, honestly, I probably will. Because, Marcus Anderson Coker, I’m not done with you yet. Plus, I’ve always called you first, since it’s kind of my job to pursue you. You see, Darling, I just can’t stand to be without you. Without us. We are, after all, better together than we are apart. Surely by now you agree.

With all my love,

Your heart (your sweet heart)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a power that comes when you meet life’s challenges head-on. Those are the times you breathe the deepest. Those are the times the waters come forth and your heart beats every bit as loud as the thunder claps. Those are the times you know more than ever—no matter what happens next—in this moment, you’re alive.

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On Present and Potential Patterns (Blog #909)

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Several years ago there was a fad on Facebook that involved posting pictures of three fictional (TV or movie) characters that represent you. And whereas I resisted participating in this fad at first, I eventually caved. My three characters were 1) Charlie from Scent of a Woman, 2) Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh (or the Hundred Acre Wood), and 3) MacGyver from MacGyver. When I shared photos of these three characters, I captioned each picture with an explanation of WHY I identified with that particular character. This wasn’t part of the assignment. I just did it because my Inner Rabbit told me to. Rabbit, after all, is a Perfectionist, a Control Freak.

Guilty.

I’m talking about this now not only because my Facebook memories reminded me of this little project today, but also because lately I’ve been talking a lot (a lot) about archetypes and patterns of behavior. Which are basically the same thing. Specifically, I’ve been talking about how to change or transition from one pattern of behavior (like The People Pleaser) to another (like The Assertive Business Man). Robert Ohotto points out that you can never completely get rid of a pattern. (Shit. A part of me will always be a People Pleaser.) You can, however, DEACTIVATE an old, not-so-useful pattern and ACTIVATE a newer, shinier one. Recently I demoted a pair of workout shorts to painting shorts, so I no longer wear them to the gym. Rather, when I exercise, I wear a new pair. Same thing.

One thing that’s important to understand about gym shorts is that just because they’re ON you doesn’t mean they ARE you. That is, I’m currently wearing a pair of red shorts, but that doesn’t mean that I’m red–or nylon–or holey (or holy). Rather, I’m simply using (as in, making use of) these shorts. One day, I imagine, I won’t find them useful, so I’ll demote them to painting shorts too. My point is that archetypes and patterns of behavior work the same way as our clothes do. They’re something our soul uses as a way to navigate the world and to grow, but they’re not our soul, our essential essence. Earlier I indicated that I’m a Perfectionist and a Control Freak, but it would be more accurate to say that A PART of me is concerned with being perfect, or that I have A PATTERN or HABIT of being controlling.

I make this distinction because we often identify with our patterns to the point that we believe they (we) can’t change. This is, I suppose, because so many of our patterns develop at an early age and we get attached to them. Rightly termed, these patterns are survival strategies. Like, you’re probably a People Pleaser because as a child you figured out (unconsciously) that that was the best way to not be yelled at or get your name written on the chalkboard. I know that’s part of the reason I became The Good Student. I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t want to get spanked. But just because I was a Teacher’s Pet at age thirteen, does that mean I need to be one at the age of thirty-nine? No. That would be ridiculous. You don’t wear the same pair of shorts your entire life.

Getting back to the Facebook fad I mentioned, I realized this morning that identifying fictional characters to whom you relate is one way to know which archetypes or patterns of behavior you currently have active. Oh my gosh, we love doing stuff like this. We take quizzes online that tell us what Harry Potter wizard we are, even what animal best represents us. And whereas this is all well and good, my point is that just because you’re running an archetype now doesn’t mean you have to run it the rest of your life. You may think of yourself as Moaning Myrtle, but–who knows?–you could transform into Hermione Granger. (These are both wizards, Mom.)

Along these lines, today I challenged my Facebook friends: List one fictional character that you think you ARE and another that you would LIKE TO BE. My answer was: I’m Charlie from Scent of a Woman, but I’d like to be Lt. Col. Frank Slade, also from Scent of a Woman. What I meant was–at least historically–I’m bookish, a bit naive, hesitant, and loyal. I have a hard time speaking up. Like Charlie. However, I often fantasize about being brash, rude, outspoken, filthy, and unconcerned with the opinions of others (as in, Fuck you too). Like Lt. Col. Frank Slade.

Hooah!

I didn’t say it when I posted my challenge to Facebook, but here’s what I was thinking. Just as listing characters with whom you identify is one way to pinpoint your CURRENTLY ACTIVE archetypes, listing characters with whom you’d LIKE TO IDENTIFY is one way to pinpoint your CURRENTLY DORMANT archetypes. Said differently–and pay attention because this is important–it’s one way to know what your POTENTIAL is. What pair of shorts you COULD be wearing if you were only willing to take your old ones off. For me, the key is asking, What characters am I DRAWN TO? I think Jamie Lee Curtis was fabulous in True Lies, but I don’t want to BE her, like ever. I don’t daydream about doing that strip routine for Arnold. You know, the one where she reaches for the bedpost, misses, and falls on her ass. But I DO daydream about being Lt. Col. Frank Slade, about having big enough balls to speak the truth, call bullshit, and let the chips fall where they may.

Again, the idea here is that if you have A DRAW to a pattern of behavior, there’s a STRONG POSSIBILITY that pattern already exists within you. It’s just a seed that needs to be watered and tended before it can become a tree. Today my friend Chelsea commented that she wanted to be Molly Weasley (another wizard, Mom) because Molly is a strong mother. Well, my friend Kira told Chelsea, “You’re totally Molly Weasley.” In other words, Molly Weasley doesn’t exist OUTSIDE of Chelsea, she exists INSIDE of her. She can see it, others can see it. Likewise, Lt. Col. Frank Slade already exists in me and–quite frankly–has been coming out more these last few years in terms of my learning to be assertive. Of course, for this to happen, Good Ole People Pleaser Charlie has had to sit down and shut up.

Here’s one last thing that I find fascinating. When this fictional-character fad went around Facebook originally, it seemed like everyone was doing it. At the very least, a lot of people were. However, when I posted my challenge today, only two of my friends played along. Two out of over two thousand. You do the math. Now, personally, I don’t give a shit (a la Lt. Col. Frank Slade) if people participate in my games or not. That’s not why I’m here. At the same time, I think it’s notable that we’re quick to identify and even brag about our CURRENT PATTERNS (People Pleaser, Control Freak, Creative, Book Worm) but not so quick to identify our POTENTIAL PATTERNS (The Fiscally Responsible and Grown Ass Adult).

Why aren’t we quick to identify our POTENTIAL PATTERNS, Marcus?

I’m glad you asked.

Because if I tell you I’d like to be Lt. Col. Frank Slade, that’s a bit like announcing I’d like to lose fifteen pounds. In other words, as soon as you IDENTIFY your potential, whether you realize it or not, you’ve ACTIVATED your potential. You’ve set a goal IN MOTION. This means a couple things. First, you’ve got a lot of work to do. (Pounds don’t drop themselves.) If you say you’re like Blanche on The Golden Girls, well fine. Party on, sister. But if you say you WANT TO BE Maria in The Sound of Music, you’re going to have to start by closing your legs. This is why we’re wishy washy when people ask us where we’d like to be in five years. Because it takes work to get from here to there, and most of us don’t like working (or closing our legs). Second, setting a goal IN MOTION means things are about TO CHANGE. Caroline Myss says we know this deep down, and it’s why we’ll read other people’s books (or blogs) about transformation but never take the first step for ourselves. If I’d known when I started therapy just how many of my old, not-so-useful patterns (and the relationships they got me into) would have to die in order for me to live, I’m not sure I would have started. Looking back, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your potential is always better than your present, I promise.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Anything and everything is possible.

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