On Nothing Happening Today (Blog #717)

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This evening my dad and I went to the gym then stopped to pick up supper–sub sandwiches. When we got home, I asked my mom, “What did we miss?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Nothing?” I replied. “NOTHING happened while we were gone?”

This is a game we play sometimes, me and my family. Obviously, SOMETHING happened. Something came on the television, the dog barked, the toilet flushed. Maybe nothing remarkable happened, but something happened. I’m sure of it. Something, after all, is always happening. Still, when I sat down to blog I thought, I don’t know what to say. NOTHING happened today.

This afternoon my dad, in his own words, got “a burr up his butt” and did some yard work. That is, he saw our neighbor trimming their bushes and thought he should too. So he trimmed our crepe myrtle, which needed it; it was beginning to look like something out of The Addams Family, overgrown and full of horror. Then Dad said, “Maybe in the next day or two we can bundle up the branches and haul them off.”

“Let’s just do it right now,” I said. (I don’t know what came over me.)

So that’s what we did. Well, you know how one thing leads to another. The next thing I knew we were on the side of the house (the crepe myrtle is in the front) pulling up privet and dead hydrangea bushes, which I thought looked like Medusa’s head. Then our other neighbor, who works for the city, came over and said if we’d pile everything up by the side of the road, he’d haul it off.

“You won’t pick it up right here?” Dad said.

Y’all, we filled three fifty-five gallon trash bags full of yard debris. Plus, there were the crepe myrtle remains, which I’d tied together with rope. No kidding, I did so much manual labor, I actually broke a sweat. (I’m sure Dad did too.) And whereas that may sound like a complaint, it’s not. For one thing, because of my knee injury, I haven’t been able to break a sweat in months. But today I did! (I’m not saying I smelled great.) For another, the sun was hot enough FOR me to break a sweat. Spring is literally days away. Praise Peter, Paul, and Mary.

Bye, winter! Don’t let the equinox hit cha where the good lord split cha.

Two weeks from yesterday will mark two full years of daily blogging. That will be 730 posts (tonight’s is #717). Recently I’ve been going back and re-reading all my entries. I’m currently at #38. And whereas I’m often critical of my work, I haven’t been. Sure, there are things I’d do differently now, but I’ve actually been enjoying what I created–the funny moments, the tender moments, the honest moments. Indeed, I thought one of my least favorite posts was #19, but when I re-read it, I found plenty to enjoy and be proud of. Was it my best work? No, but what I did in our front yard today wasn’t my best work either, but it was still worthwhile, still an improvement over doing NOTHING.

This is something I’ve learned over the last two years. Often I’ll think, I have NOTHING to say, but if I take time to sit down and write, SOMETHING good will happen, SOMETHING good will come out, even if it’s one simple phrase, one clever joke. Plus, there’s the discipline itself, the act of practicing. And even if you’re not in love with your work, you never know what will speak to someone else. Hell, Emily Dickinson wanted her work destroyed. I can only assume she thought it wasn’t anything remarkable. But look at what the world got. Geez. Artists are such self-critical hard-asses.

Lately I’ve been reading about attention and the idea that we often hyper-focus on whatever we’re doing–raking leaves out of a flower garden, let’s say–but that we have the ability to tune into everything that’s going on around us. For example, this afternoon while working in the yard, I not only noticed what I was doing, but also noticed the sound of cars driving by, the feel of sweat on my skin, the sensation of my feet on the ground, and the smell of the moist dirt. My point, again, is that SOMETHING is always happening. And not that you have to recount every damn detail of your life whenever someone asks you what you did yesterday, but I think it’s important to remember–

So much is constantly happening that it would be impossible to recount.

My therapist says the important work we do is the work that nobody notices. For example, I’ve spent a lot of time these last five years working on my interior, cleaning up the past, connecting with my heart, and creating healthy boundaries. And whereas none of this has paid my bills or kept me warm at night, it has made me a better human. However, because I’m so focused on being productive–teaching dance, cleaning the yard, working out–that on days when I don’t do those things and instead stay home and watch Netflix, I too often say, “Nothing happened; I didn’t DO anything today.” But what about the fact that I was more patient with myself on Monday, more patient with a stranger on Tuesday?

Isn’t that something? Isn’t that remarkable?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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I Like This Person (Blog #713)

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Well crap. Yesterday I said my sinuses were on the upswing, but I apparently spoke too soon. I hate it when that happens. This morning I woke up hot, and although I don’t have a fever, I’ve felt crummy all day, low energy. Now it’s six in the evening, and I’m trying my level best to get all my “chores” finished so that I can take a nap and not have to worry about doing anything when I wake up. I’m hoping a nap will help, but sometimes sleep is the worst, especially with sinus problems. It’s just a matter of gravity. Everything runs to your head.

Ick.

I’ve spent the afternoon trying all my home remedies. I thought the kimchi I’ve been using was helping, but it’s possible that it’s out of date and no longer contains the bacteria I need. But working from the wisdom of “there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” I’ve been taking a few other supplements, as well as drinking a lot of fluids. And whereas part of me is terrified and thinks I’m going to end up being sick for months like I was last year, another part of me is rational and thinks, Just give it a few days before you start freaking out. A lot can happen in a few days.

Yeah, that first part of me responds, you could get the flu, like that friend of yours got. Remember her? You were standing right beside each other!

Let’s talk about something else before I scare myself to death.

Earlier this week I began the long process of going back and re-reading all my blog posts. And whereas I initially read them in random order, last night I went back and started from post number one. Oh my gosh, y’all, I completely spilled my guts. After decades of being silent or indirect about my sexuality and almost everything else in my personal life, I just put it out there. You can read it for yourself, but I basically said, “I’m here, I’m queer, and I like waffles.” Reading the post last night, I thought, Well, that was brave. Recently when I was being hard on myself for not having a real job “like everybody else,” my therapist said, “If you were looking objectively at yourself from the outside, what would you say?” I paused then replied, “I’d say I really admire that person for following his dream. He’s got a lot of balls.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

Being courageous means taking action despite being afraid.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn–look how brave I am! But reading my first post and answering my therapist’s question really did come as a shock to me. I spend so much time worrying and being afraid, about my health and life in general, that I rarely if ever stop to consider that I am simultaneously being courageous. Because I do think fear and courage can exist at the same time. Indeed, one must first be fearful before they can be courageous. This is why no one ever says they courageously put their shoes on. Who’s afraid of putting on their shoes? No, being courageous means taking action despite being afraid.

After I read my first post, I read several others. Posts two through nine to be specific. For the most part, this was like looking through an old scrapbook. I thought, Oh yeah, I remember that. I laughed, I cried, I noticed a few typos. I did not, however, get self-critical, as I often do when, for example, looking back at old dance videos. Rather, I thought, I’m proud of this.

Later, while hanging up laundry, another thought popped into my head. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it was like I was thinking about myself as if I were someone else, from an objective viewpoint like my therapist suggested. Anyway, I thought, I like this person.

I like this person because he’s brave.
I like this person because he’s smart.
I like this person because he’s funny. (I’m pretty funny.)
I like this person because he’s a handsome devil.

But seriously. I like this person. This really was a big deal. Not a revelation, per say, but a significant acknowledgment. I like me. Not that I DISLIKED myself before last night, but I’ve spent a lot of time disliking certain things about myself (from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet), and that’s essentially the same thing. So it was an important reminder that I actually like and enjoy a million things about me, regardless of how healthy or sick I am, regardless of how big my waistline is. Now I’m reminding myself that whenever I’m being self-critical I’m talking about somebody I like, somebody I care about–and that’s not okay.

So knock it off, me

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"When you’re authentic, your authenticity is enough. You don’t need to compare."

The Slow Grow (Blog #712)

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Things that happened today–

1. I felt better

After two days of feeling crummy, this morning I woke up feeling normal. I credit the miracle probiotic (L. Sakei), which is found in kimchi (or sold online as a powder) and that I started using yesterday. I know it’s weird, swabbing the inside of my nostrils with fermented cabbage juice, but in twenty years of dealing with sinus infections, it’s the only thing I’ve found that reliably works. So who cares if it’s weird? I’m grateful for it. Not only has this little critter (probiotics are living creatures, after all) solved my sinus problems, it’s also given me a great deal of hope. That is, I’ve been reminded that even longstanding problems can–one day–be solved.

2. I saw my therapist

This morning I saw my therapist and–because I was curious–asked her about something I heard on a podcast recently. The podcast was about a poker player who was really good at what he did. That is, he could read people. Consequently, he’d come to the conclusion that most people were shitty. So I asked my therapist, “You’ve got a good gut. You can read people. What do you think about humanity?”

My therapist said, “I think most people take the easiest way forward and choose to not really take a look at themselves or their maladaptive patterns. Unfortunately, social media and western culture give people every bit of encouragement to indulge their worst behaviors. But I have hope in general that people are capable of change and growth.” Then she paused and added, “And all that shit is hard to do.”

3. I spent time with my family

After therapy, I picked my aunt up, who’d been out-of-town visiting two of our extended family members that I personally hadn’t seen until today in probably fifteen years. Anyway, the four of us met to eat and catch up. Oh my gosh, y’all, one of my relatives (whom I call an aunt but is technically a cousin twice removed) said I sound like my grandpa when I laugh. Talk about making my day. My grandpa’s no longer alive, but it was the perfect reminder that some things, certain connections and relationships, go beyond life and death.

4. I got stuff done before the sun went down

After I dropped my aunt off at her house, I came home and started being productive doing laundry. Then I sat down to do this blog. Now I’m almost finished, and there’s still a little light outside. This almost never happens. Usually I don’t get started working until late at night, and then it’s go-go-go. And whereas I’m okay with this pattern, my body often falls into bed completely exhausted. So perhaps tonight I can adopt a more leisurely pace and get stuff done without crashing later. More and more, I’m learning there’s no reason to wear yourself out. You can take your time and still make progress. My therapist calls this “the slow grow.”

5. I learned a new saying

While my aunt and I were driving home this afternoon, she said something I’ve never heard before, that life’s pretty good if you don’t weaken. To me this means that life is amazing. It’s filled with long-waited-for relief, kindness, laughter, and connections that last beyond the grave. At the same time, life’s not for sissies. More times than any of us would like, we have to hang in and, as Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day. Hell, for one more year (or decade). Often our progress seems to be two steps forward and one step back. The slow grow. That’s fine. There’s no hurry here. What’s important is that life persists, that we persist.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

The Puzzle of Our Lives (Blog #711)

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I was grouchy all day yesterday, critical of myself and others. This is often the first sign that I’m not feeling well, that something is off in my body. Sure enough, I woke up sick this morning. And whereas it wasn’t full-blown awful, it was the start of another sinus infection. Shit, I thought, I just dealt with this two weeks ago. Like feeling sorry for yourself makes any difference. Life does what it does.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor and massage therapist, who both worked on my shoulders, where I apparently have a pinched nerve. Thankfully, I think whatever they did helped. The random pains I’ve been feeling haven’t been coming as fast and furious since I left their office. “Come back later this week,” my chiropractor said. “Let’s get this done and over with.”

Let’s get this done and over with. And all god’s people said Amen. Along these lines, after I left the chiropractor’s office, I ordered more of the probiotic powder I use to help my sinus infections (online) and bought some more kimchi (at a grocery store), which I also use to help my sinus infections. (What I had at home had expired.) As these two products have worked reliably in the past, I plan on hitting them hard for the next few days, in addition to eating well and trying (trying) to get plenty of rest. Fingers crossed. Let’s get this done and over with.

I spent this evening at the local library. I’ve been meaning for almost a year now to go back and re-read all my blog posts, and since I’m coming up on two solid years of blogging, I figured now was a good time to start. Oh my gosh, y’all, I talk a lot. Tonight I re-read forty-two blog posts (in no particular order), and it took me just under three hours. So this project’s going to take a while. But already it’s been the best thing, a reminder of my good and bad days, the people I love and love not-so-much, and where and how I’ve grown. Every day I sit down at this computer and am literally two feet from the screen. Then, it’s one post at a time, one day at time. My point is that it’s easy to lose perspective, to get so close to your own life that you don’t see what’s happening. So I’m looking forward to standing back and getting a bird’s-eye view of these last two years.

It’s important, I think, to get some distance from yourself every now and then. In the midst of a problem–a simple sinus infection, let’s say–it’s easy to hyper-focus on whatever is bothering you and lose sight of the bigger picture, to forget that our hurts and hangups are often only one piece of the puzzle of our lives. This is the benefit of journaling. When you put your life on a page, it automatically creates some space between you and your internal narrative. Likewise, a good (objective) friend or therapist can offer a different perspective from you own, one that’s probably more accurate, one you might like better. So often I think of myself as sickly and weak, but my therapist says, “From my viewpoint, you’re young, healthy, and strong.”

“Um, did you say I was young?” I reply.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

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On Measured Effort (Blog #710)

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Last night, thanks to the time change, I got five hours of sleep instead of six. Color me not impressed. My body’s been off all day. Currently it’s ten in the evening, and I’ve been ready to go back to bed for twelve hours. Fingers crossed I’ll be asleep by midnight.

One can hope.

This morning I woke up early to teach a swing dance workshop in Fayetteville. It went well. God bless everyone who got out of bed to attend and listen to me say, “one more time” over and over again. One more time, I’ve probably said that more times that I can count. That and, “five, six, seven, eight.” Today a student, making reference to a basic step we covered in class, said, “I already know that.” I remember thinking something similar when I was a new dancer; I wanted to learn the cool shit. But the older I get, the more I find myself going back to the basics–taking clean steps, being on the beat, doing the same thing over and over again.

I say this a lot as a teacher, but the only way to really learn is to go slow. There’s so much going on when you dance, you mind and body need time to become aware of what’s happening and integrate the information. Granted, as a student, I hate that. I want to zip through new dance patterns like everybody else does. I’ve been learning to knit recently, and I can’t tell you how eager I am to knit a blanket. But my first project was a pot holder, and my next one’s going to be a cap. That’s the deal; with anything, you have to start small and work you way up. You can’t just dive into the deep end without learning how to swim first. Yesterday I said my therapist thought the universe was trying to get me to slow down (because I injured my knee a few months ago). If she’s right, it’s a hard lesson to learn. After the workshop today, there was a dance, and I wanted so badly to really cut loose. But I forced myself to stick to the basics, to go slow.

One friend I danced with noted that my steps were “measured.” She was right–I was super careful this afternoon during the workshop and especially this evening on the dance floor. And whereas that was frustrating as hell, it’s what my body requires. And it’s not awful. Actually, I wish I had gone slower when I first started dancing. I wish my steps had been measured back then. That is, I wish I’d taken more time to move slowly and deliberately, to really focus on my technique, to not develop bad habits.

Alas, I didn’t become interested in the technical, finer details of dancing until much later, when I started teaching. And even though being a teacher has taught me the value of not being in a hurry, I still often am. I start a project, like this blog or rehab-ing my knee, for example, and I want to get to the end. I see those motivational posters that say, “Life’s not a destination, it’s a journey,” and feel like vomiting. I want to do that fancy dance move, I want to be published, I want my knee back. Get me across the finish line already.

Hell, just get me to bed.

Your relationships won’t get better until you do.

It occurs to me that everything I’m really proud of–my dancing ability and knowledge, my relationships, my work in therapy, this blog–has come from measured effort. Not that I’ve been measured (or patient or calm) every minute of every damn day with any of these things, but I have been measured enough to be 1) intentional and 2) consistent. That’s what I’d say to anyone wanting to learn a new thing or grow themselves in some way–be intentional and consistent. That is, act on purpose. Obviously, you’re not going to accidentally become a good dancer, nor are you going to slip on a banana peel one day and have a completed novel fall out of your brain on your way down. Likewise, your relationships won’t get better until you do. It takes a decision. After that, it takes dedication. Simply put, you have to keep showing up.

Even if you’re not in the mood. Even if you only got five hours of sleep last night.

I say this for myself more than for anyone else. I constantly struggle with knowing when to push myself (for example, when to lose sleep in order to write this blog) and when to back off. Today in class I talked about how Lindy Hop has “built-in” times to rest. That is, certain steps take up more beats in the music, which gives the dancer time to breathe and not feel hurried. So I’m trying to recognize that these times exist in my life too, that it’s important to be measured or intentional about slowing down as well.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For I am a universe–large–like you are, and there is room here for all that we contain. An ego, of course, is small, and it is disgusted and humiliated by the smallest of things. But a universe is bigger than that, much too big to judge itself or another, much too big to ever question how bright it is shining.

"

On Being Productive Enough (Blog #709)

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Well shit. Tonight is daylight savings. And whereas I’m thrilled about there being more sunshine in my life, I’m not thrilled about losing an hour of sleep, especially since I’m getting up early tomorrow to teach a swing dance workshop. That being said, it’s fabulous to be employed, so I’ll set my alarm and soldier through like the adult that I am. I can always sleep in on Monday. Still, it’s eleven now, basically midnight, so I need to finish this lickety-split and start winding down.

So far it’s been a wonderful weekend. Last night (Friday), I had dinner with a friend then went to see a local (kids) production of The Wizard of Oz. At dinner I had my first cup of coffee in over two months, since Christmas Day, the day before my knee surgery. I quit because I was really overdoing it, drinking caffeine all day then wondering why I wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep. Anyway, my cup of joe was fabulous, and I managed to limit myself. No refills.

Let’s say this together–“I am capable of moderation.”

This afternoon I hung out with my friend Justin. The weather today was gorgeous, so we went for a long walk downtown by the river. As per usual, we discussed all things deep and shallow. After our walk, we grabbed a quick dinner, then Justin took off to other plans. Then I went to help another friend with a television remote control problem and ended up learning about a technology called CES, which allows a device that’s connected to your television through an HDMI cable (like Apple TV or a DVD player) to turn your television on or off. That was the problem, the remote was turning the television off, but then the television was coming back on (because Apple TV was telling it to).

Some electronic devices are so bossy.

Since my friend doesn’t use Apple TV anymore, we simply unplugged it, and that solved the problem. But there’s a lesson here somewhere. Something about how we give some people the power to turn us on or turn us off, how we let certain others push our buttons and get us all riled up when we could just unplug them.

Bye, Felicia.

This weekend I’ve broken a lot of my personal rules. In addition to having coffee last night, I also had dessert–white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, which is the next best thing to live-in lover as far as I’m concerned but is also loaded with calories. Then tonight after my friend and I fixed their remote control problem, we went to Braum’s and I had a chocolate malt. Again, it was basically orgasmic, and fattening. Now I’m considering breaking another rule. Since I’m pressed for time, I’ve almost convinced myself to skip my knee rehab exercises for the first time since surgery. Surely that’ll be okay.

Surely.

The last time I spoke to my therapist, she talked about my knee injury. “That was seriously rando,” she said. (That’s short for random, Mom.) Then she added, “If I had to guess, I’d say that happened because the universe wants you to slow the fuck down.” This was said just after we’d discussed how much I should be pushing myself–to get better, to write more often, to be productive. “You’re productive enough,” she said. So I’m trying to let that sink in, the idea that it’s okay to slow down, slow way down, that it’s good and necessary to break your own rules occasionally because–hello!–there are no rules here. Life, it seems, is meant for being lived in the moment, not from a calendar or rule book.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The truth is right in front of you."

Boys, Frosting, Food, and Clothing (Blog #705)

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Today has been fabulous and makes me glad to be alive. I can’t say why it’s been fabulous exactly, but I’ll try. This morning I woke up early, like eight-thirty, and began the day in quiet and solitude. This suites my personality, a slow, hushed start and a healthy breakfast. The menu today: scrambled eggs with turkey, spinach, and green onions; a side of pineapple; and hot lungwort tea. Lungwort’s supposed to be good for your lungs and decreasing mucus. Personally, I just like the way it sounds–lungwort. It’s so–medieval. I feel like a wizard every time I say it.

The reason I got up early was to see my therapists. Yes, I have more than one. It takes a village. First I saw my mental health therapist, the one this blog is named in honor of, my shrink. A few months ago I had a dream about a giant snake in a swamp, and recently I had another dream about a giant snake on land. The second snake tried to bite me, and I was terrified but ended up controlling it. When I told my therapist about these dreams, she said, “What do you think of snakes?” I said, “I think they’re strong and powerful.” Then she said, “Then that’s you. You’re the snake–you’re strong and powerful,” which made me want to cry. Weird how we don’t want to recognize our own best qualities, how we’re afraid of ourselves.

My therapist and I also talked about my future. I’ve been thinking lately I should get into an additional writing routine, force myself into a chair and bang my head against the table until a book falls out. My therapist, however, suggested that I don’t do anything until we talk again. “Reduce yourself,” she said. “Give yourself a break.” Then she added, “In the meantime, think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing.” So that’s what I did the rest of the day. First I ate a cream cheese bagel, then (after physical therapy) went shopping for clothes. And whereas I didn’t buy anything, I had a wonderful time looking. Well wait, I bought a new tape measure at the hardware store because my old tape measure broke recently. Anyway, the point is that I did NOT think about my future, even while I was eating a brownie tonight.

I’d like to emphasize I only ate the brownie because, well, doctor’s order’s, and I try to be a good patient.

At physical therapy, I got to jog (on a treadmill) for the first time since my knee injury and subsequent surgery. Well, okay, it was more like a fast walk (3.3 miles per hour), but it mimicked a jog. My physical therapist said this was the point, to simply get the motion. “It feels awkward,” I said. “That’s normal,” he said. Likewise, when I said that the hardest exercise I do is lowering myself down onto a step, he said, “That’s the last thing to come back. It just takes time.” Still, despite this fact, I see a lot of progress. Today I broke a sweat balancing on a Bosu ball, but the balancing was easier than two weeks ago; I didn’t have to use the bar in front of me to keep from falling over.

And did I mention I’m jogging!

While driving around today, I listened to a podcast about willpower. The speaker, Kate Galliett, said that willpower is depleted 1) by our feeling overwhelmed and 2) by our making a lot of decisions. That is, if you have to make a hundred choices at work during the day, in the evening you’re probably not going to have the mental reserves required for eating broccoli instead of cake, unless broccoli is already a habit for you. If it’s not, you’ll say, “Fuck it, I’m too tired” and reach for the red velvet. What I found most interesting, however, was that Kate said ANY decision you make depletes your willpower–including what statuses to like or not like on social media. Or what clothes you’re going to wear every day. This is why Steve Jobs had a uniform (or why you might want to set out your clothes the night before). Think about it–if you can only make so many decisions each day, why not save them for what’s important–your job, your health, your relationships.

Not necessarily in that order.

Honestly, I’m not sure why my therapist wanted me to “reduce myself” for a bit in terms of my writing routine and rather think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing. But my guess is that she knows I tend to wear myself out and thinks it would be wise to first sit down and get clear about what’s really important and what I want to accomplish. Because I do use my willpower a lot–to write this blog every day, to rehab my knee, to read a hundred books, to do half a dozen things I don’t always talk about here. And the podcast I listened to was right–willpower is a limited resource. Granted, it can replenish itself, but not if you keep pushing, pushing, pushing. At some point, you’ve got to chill out. You’ve got to give yourself a break.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All your scattered pieces want to come back home.

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On Being Done (Blog #693)

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This morning when I rolled out of bed, I noticed that one of my sheets was torn. Right there in the middle of my mattress, there was a hole you could have thrown a basketball through. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed SOMEONE had a really good time last night. Alas, this was not the case. Rather, apparently my sheet had worn thin and couldn’t hold itself together any longer. It’s okay, I thought, I’ve been there plenty of times myself. Anyway, despite the fact that I had other plans for my afternoon, I ended up washing sheets (I have sensitive skin that requires everything I come in contact with be cleaned in “free and clear” detergent) then re-making my bed. Ugh. Sometimes our choices are made for us.

Since I was already doing laundry, I decided to DO LAUNDRY this afternoon. I’m going out-of-town tomorrow, so it worked out. Now I’ll have underwear options for the weekend. (That’s always nice.) While the laundry was going on, I knitted, something I haven’t done in weeks. Just another session or two, and I’ll be done with my very first project–a pot holder! I can’t tell you how good this felt, being productive. I really got on a roll–checked the fluids in my car, home-made my own windshield washer fluid (thanks for the recipe, Mom), even cleaned my white sneakers. My therapist says it takes “a real hooker” to pull off white sneakers!

Insert look of confidence here.

This evening I went to Starbucks to use their internet to order more sensitive-skin items online–six bars of soap, some shaving cream. Ugh. You don’t think about all the things you rub on your body until you have to restock almost all of them. Hopefully this will do it for a while. After finishing my online shopping, I worked on someone else’s blog. (Sometimes I get paid to write.) Now it’s after ten, and I’m working on mine, rushing through it because Dad and I need to go to the gym soon.

Something about being productive. There’s an idea in mysticism and ancient wisdom that we don’t “do” things. Rather, we are “being done.” I wish I were. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) But seriously, take breathing, for instance. Is it something you decide to do, or does it just happen? And if it just happens, then couldn’t the argument be made that everything just happens? More and more, I think so.

Byron Katie says, “Decisions make themselves.” To me this means that you can fret and worry and plan and put off, but at some point you simply find yourself doing the laundry, sitting down to write, or going to the gym (or not). The ego likes to take credit for everything, of course, so we tell ourselves, Look at what I did or didn’t do today. I’m so great. I’m a real piece of crap. I’m not saying we’re not responsible for our actions, just that all the mental chatter around our actions is unnecessary. For example, I often worry that my irritated skin should be healing or that I should be working on a novel, but I could just as easily worry that I’m not at this very moment taking a breath. Either way, without my planning it, at some point I do–take a breath, feel better, sit down to write (or not). But is it because I worried first? No, I don’t think so. Sometimes our choices are made for us. Better said, sometimes it’s simply time to do whatever it is you’re doing right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

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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)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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On Continuing Sans Perfection (Blog #675)

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For the last twenty minutes I’ve been trying to get my hotspot to work so I could blog on my laptop. Alas, for whatever reason, it’s currently defunct, so I’m blogging on my phone, using my thumbs to punch in one letter at a time. What a drag. What a serious drag. I hope I don’t get a callous.

This afternoon while most of America was eating cheese dip and preparing for the Superbowl, I went to the gym to rehab my knee and work out my upper body. As today was my second time this week following this regimen, I’m really surprised I don’t have pecs yet. Geez, some things take forever. And as if that weren’t disappointing enough, when I came home I pulled out a box of medjool dates for a snack, and the sticker on the box said, “Had a date lately?” I thought, Do you have to rub it in? Shit, a single guy can’t even eat a healthy snack without having his lack of a love-life thrown in his face. By a fruit, no less.

For the record, I’ve NEVER had this problem with chocolate cake.

This may come as a surprise, but I’m not a football fan. So while everyone else was wondering if Adam Levine would take a knee during his performance, I took a nap. I did, however, wake up in time for the half-time show, which I watched while I knitted.

Recently my friend Kara asked if I was learning to knit in order to get some sort of gay merit badge.

The answer is yes.

A couple things. In a previous post I said my current knitting project, a pot holder, would eventually have 36 rows. That was (an unintentional) lie. It’s going to have 60. Anyway, today I did twelve rows, so now I’ve done a total of 28. Almost halfway there. My big hangup today was that I noticed a mistake I made a few days ago. I guess I dropped a stitch or knitted instead of purled or something. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You probably wouldn’t even notice it if I showed you. But I noticed it wasn’t perfect.

Instead of ripping out the entire damn thing and starting over, I forced myself to keep going. After all, this is supposed to be for fun. Plus, I kept thinking about all the hundreds of mistakes I’ve made dancing through the years and how much I’ve learned from them. Indeed, mistakes are necessary when we’re figuring things out. And as my therapist says, “You’ll be done figuring things out when you’re six feet under.”

In other words, mistakes are simply part off living. Like it or not, they come with the job.

The other thing that encouraged me to continue knitting sans perfection was thinking about this blog. That is, in over 600 blog posts, I’m SURE I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I proof each post three times, and I know mistakes still slip through. But whatever. This project doesn’t need to flawless, each word spelled correctly, each sentence punctuated just so. Indeed, the greatest benefit I’ve gotten from writing every day can’t even be measured in terms of the finished project because the greatest benefit has been internal. Likewise, whether you write, dance, or knit, it’s not about the actual thing or what you produce. It’s about how doing the thing changes you. It’s about what you learn and how much you grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I don't think anyone came to this planet in order to get it right the first time. What would be the point?

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