On Endings and Beginnings (Blog #979)

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This morning I saw my therapist and, in the midst of going through my list of things to talk about, got derailed. Even though I hadn’t planned on discussing it, I jumped on a tangent about this blog and how it’s coming to a close. (I only have 22 blogs including this one until 1,000, then 13 weeks and 6 days until THE END). “I feel like I’m entering lame-duck territory,” I said. “It’s scary. This project has been such a touchstone and healing force in my life, and I have no idea what’s coming next. I’m flailing.”

My therapist said she understood how intimidating transitions can be, AND that even if I don’t continue to blog here daily, I’ve planted A LOT of seeds. “Any number of other projects could EASILY grow out of what you’ve started,” she said. “For example, a book.” Oh my gosh, y’all, when I think about all the things I could do with what I’ve learned thanks to this blog, my mind absolutely flies. I could go on for days, in any number of formats, about how this discipline has turned my life around and upside down for the better. Recently my mom told me that although all my posts are good (thanks, Mom), they’ve really been “exceptional” lately. “You’re in the groove,” she said. “Your writing is seamless. The blog’s done for you what you wanted it to.” That is to say, it’s given me a successful writing practice. Even more, it’s given me myself.

This, of course, has been worth all the effort, time, and money spent.

I guess I’m afraid that when my last “in a row” blog is posted I’ll somehow lose everything I’ve gained. There’s a certain sadness, a heaviness that’s been stalking me, a grief I often feel when I return home from a fabulous vacation. It says, “Crap, the show is over. What now?” It says, “What if we never feel that way again?” At the same time, there’s a certain high, a sense of pride that says, “Hot damn, we did it. Not matter what happens from this point forward, we did it. Nobody can ever take that away.” Perhaps this mix of emotions is what newlyweds feel when the honeymoon is over and people start asking when in god’s name they’re going to begin popping out children. Everyone’s so focused on what’s going to happen after. It’s so difficult to be right here, right now, to sit with whatever arises–excitement, wonder, despair, confusion–on the first day, on the last day.

In Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino’s character sings, “Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay?” I totally get this “I want to hold on but also want to let go” feeling. Despite my deep affection for this project, as I imagine reaching 1,000 and, at the end of March, 1,095 posts, I picture an enormous weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Y’all, this daily-writing and baring-my-soul-on-the-internet bullshit has been and continues to be my choice, and, as I’ve said ad nauseam, it’s all too often exhausting. As these last three years have played host to the the most challenging health crises I’ve ever face, there have been days when life has simply been “too much” and the last thing I wanted to do was take to the web and be honest. Because it’s always easier to run and hide. This being said, I don’t recommend running and hiding. For one thing, there’s nowhere to go.

For another, you’ve gotta meet yourself sooner or later. After all, you’re with yourself all the time. You’re the one you wake up with, the one who tucks you in at night.

People say it’s the journey, not the destination. As a goal-oriented, results-focused person, I hate this. But it’s true. Since starting this project I’ve often fantasized about having so many readers or–I should be so lucky–a certain amount of monetary compensation for my efforts. (Any would be nice). Still, there are bloggers with millions of readers and authors with millions of dollars who nonetheless feel like they haven’t arrived. But how could they–how could any of us–get “there”? Again, there’s nowhere to go. There’s only “here.”

This afternoon I listened to a fabulous talk by Caroline Myss about Alice in Wonderland, and one of my takeaways was that the point of any hero’s or heroine’s journey is changing your inner world, not your outer one. The mystical and ironic consequence of changing your inner world being that–surprise!–your outer world changes too. It has to. At the very least it will look different than it did before (less scary, more manageable, ever so much more enchanting), and this is the same thing. Perception determines your experience of reality.

Along these lines, since we use words to frame our experiences, Caroline suggests flipping your language script. For example, instead of thinking of my health issues as Problems or Challenges, I could–and often do–think of them as Opportunities (to learn about myself, heal, and connect with others), Adventures (who knows what will happen next!), or Initiations (into the Greater Mysteries of life). I’ve often blogged about Going Down the Rabbit Hole, and this is what I’m talking about. Any Hero’s Journey that’s worth it salt will turn everything in your life upside down, including the way you think and talk about your experiences. This doesn’t happen because the universe is bored and feels like shaking up your life the way a toddler shakes up a snow globe. Rather, it happens because, from your soul’s perspective, your world’s been wrong-side up for a while now and it’s simply time to set things right-side up. This looks and feels like Chaos to you and me, a falling apart, but to the gods–well–it’s a Grace, a putting things back together. Our endings are our beginnings.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Gift of Indifference (Blog #977)

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Today I’ve been thinking about power.

I’ll explain.

According to Caroline Myss, life is about power. To help people become aware of their own power, she often asks audience members, “Do you want my magic marker?” Of course, no one does. Think about it. Unless you have a strange fetish for Sharpies, it’s like, Whatever, lady, I don’t need your pen. I’m just fine without it. “THAT’S how you SHOULD feel when something has NO POWER over you,” she says.

Conversely, we all know what it feels like when something–or someone–HAS power over us. Yesterday I blogged about my being jealous of or wanting approval from other (in my opinion, better) swing dancers, and this is what I’m talking about, that feeling that you NEED something from someone else. If you personally don’t give a shit what some Lindy Hop guru thinks of you, good. Also, this illustrates that someone could easily HOLD POWER over me but BE A MAGIC MARKER to you. Still, even if this is the case, I guarantee there’s SOMETHING or SOMEONE you want something from, something or someone who pulls you out of your authenticity. Because that’s the deal. When you GIVE your power away to someone else, you quite literally give part of your life to them to manage for you. In the extremes this looks like being someone else’s whipping boy, bitch, or puppet, which is what the story of Pinocchio is about. At first anyone could make him do anything, but the more he listened to HIS conscience, the more REAL he became and the less others could control him.

Along these lines, how many times have you said, “I can’t, you decide”? Or, “What do YOU think I should do?”? I’m not saying it’s the end of the world to ask someone else’s opinion or advice, but when someone else says jump and you start hopping, that’s a problem. Here’s another, more specific way to dig into this. If you were going to move, change jobs, start a relationship, or, hell, go out to dinner tomorrow, whose approval would you need first? You might think this is a ridiculous question, and on one level it is. You shouldn’t need ANYONE’S approval to go to the International House of Pancakes. But on another level, we all know people who stay in miserable towns, jobs, and marriages because they’re afraid of disappointing their parents, spouses, friends, or god.

Recently I blogged about how one person can influence another (and to be clear, that influence can be positive just as well as negative), and used the example of a man my dad met in prison who introduced our family to the Old Testament Law. And whereas I could go on for days about how our lives changed thanks to this introduction, the long and the short of it is I stopped eating bacon. In terms of tonight’s conversation, I now see that I’d given my power away. Specifically, I gave up my POWER TO CHOOSE between a roast beef and ham sandwich. Instead, I let someone else (my dad’s friend, my dad, the Old Testament, God) do that for me. I did this because, as I told my chiropractor who deals with emotions today, “I was AFRAID God was going to WAX MY ASS if I didn’t obey him.”

“Wax your ass?” he said. “Now THAT would be an interesting sensation.”

At which point we both laughed.

Because this has been on my mind so much lately and because I think this is hugely important, here’s ANOTHER way to look at this issue of power. This afternoon I went to the Fort Smith Public Library for their annual rare and vintage book sale. (Y’all know I love a good book with an attractive cover.) Well, right off the bat I noticed an old set of eight illustrated books about the human body–the circulatory system, the nervous system, etc. And whereas I’m not a doctor or a biologist, I got sucked right in. The drawings are so pretty, I thought. The covers are gorgeous–pristine. And all for $35. But then I thought, You have no NEED for these, Marcus. And don’t kid yourself–you’re NEVER going to read them. So I put them down like a hot potato, browsed around the room, and ultimately walked away empty handed.

But of course I had my $35.

My point in telling this story is that we all know that googly-eyed feeling of being drawn in by a pretty object or person. This is what it feels like when your power LEAVES YOU. Again, I’m not saying it’s bad to desire something (it’s kind of fun actually), but I am saying–let’s be clear–anytime you start acting like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (I WANTS IT), you’re under a spell. If you get the thing–or person–home later and have buyer’s remorse, maybe you didn’t completely give away your power car, but you definitely gave up the wheel for a while.

My therapist says the natural state of the universe is neutral, and more and more neutrality is my goal. This looks like me being real middle-of-the-road about how much money I have, whether or not other people like me or want to take me to bed, and how the rest of the world perceives me. I have a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous who says that when thinking about people who have absolutely done you wrong, you don’t want to seething-hate them, but you don’t want to squishy-love them either. “Your goal is indifference,” they say. This is the same thing as being neutral.

You WANT them to be a magic marker.

If being indifferent sounds cold, maybe it is. My therapist says when it comes to money, she has ice water running through her veins. But what this really means is that she’s NOT ATTACHED to money or the things it can buy. That is, they have NO POWER over her. Consequently, she’s a badass business woman. So she can walk into a car dealership and, even if she adores a certain vehicle, if the price isn’t right, she can walk away. This is the gift of indifference. This is what neutrality really is, being empowered enough to not feel like you HAVE to buy the thing, take the miserable job, or do what someone else wants. It’s having YOUR power, YOUR spirit, at home in YOUR body and NOT somewhere else.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

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On Locard’s Exchange Principle (Blog #975)

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This morning I finished house sitting then spent the afternoon and evening with my friends and former roommates Justin and Ashley. And whereas I’ll spare you the details of our entire day together, I will say that at one point Justin and I drove by Fort Smith’s latest mural project, a house painted by Okuda San Miguel. Y’all, it’s super cool. For weeks the house has been entirely white, a blank canvas. Then just this week it was turned into a rainbow-colored wonder of lines and geometric shapes. And not that this has to do with what I plan on discussing tonight, but the project is cool and was part of my day, so I’m including pictures below.

Currently it’s two in the morning. I got home from Justin and Ashley’s about eleven, but have spent the last few hours unpacking from house sitting and–quite frankly–taking a shower because I hadn’t cleaned up in a few days (so sue me). And whereas I could have put everything back in its proper place tomorrow, I simply got in a mood. Having been gone for a week, I wanted to BE home, to get all my clothes and toiletries in order. Having stepped in dog shit earlier today, I wanted to WASH my shoes.

A random comment I made to Justin and Ashley tonight was that on a weekly basis I use a number of phrases or speech intonations that I picked up years ago from one or more of my exes. “I don’t love the fact that they influenced me so much,” I said, “but they did.” My therapist says that when two people really meet, it’s like a chemical reaction. “Both people are forever changed,” she says. I guess you could think of you and any significant person in your life like two eggs that have been scrambled together (you’re one egg, they’re the other, and the omelet is both of you ). The point being–you can separate the omelet, but the eggs won’t be the same as they were before. Each will have parts of the other mixed within it.

Along these lines, in forensic science there’s something called Locard’s Exchange Principle, which basically says that when someone commits a crime, they will both leave something at the crime scene (a fingerprint, a hair, some blood) and take something from it (a fleck of paint under their fingernail, gravel in the grooves of their shoe, spilled liquid on their jeans). I thought about this tonight as I was unpacking and cleaning up from house sitting. Mostly because I found dog hair everywhere–on my pillow, in my shoes, in my car. Of course, this means that I left my hair (and maybe a booger or two) where I was staying.

Because I’m a giver.

But seriously, the point being that both I and the place I stayed are different than we were before.

Yesterday I blogged about trimming down the number of friends I have on Facebook, and this idea that for better or for worse every relationship and interaction leaves its mark on you is precisely why I’m culling my digital friends. To be clear, I’m not suggesting that all marks left are negative. On the contrary, there are PLENTY of people I follow who are absolute bright spots in otherwise gloomy days. The important thing for me to remember and not take lightly is that any of us can seriously influence anyone else. My dad met a man in prison who introduced him to the idea of not eating “unclean” meat and–long story short–I didn’t eat pork for twenty years. So don’t tell me one person–you or anyone else–isn’t powerful.

We’re talking about bacon here.

If the response of the citizenry of Fort Smith to our latest mural is anything like the response to our previous murals, there will be those who LOVE it and those who HATE it. Regardless, everyone will have a reaction. Likewise, you’re GOING to have a reaction with everyone you meet in person or online. If the connection is strong enough, it’ll be a big one. For example, I know people who are decades past divorces and are STILL bitter. Conversely, I know people decades past divorces who are still BETTER. My point being that you do have some say in HOW you let the chemical reactions in your life change you. Like, okay, this shitty thing happened. (Shitty things happen.) Now are you going to be a man-hater your entire life, or are you going to get your ass in therapy and (finally) deal with your baggage? When you leave another’s house covered in dog hair, are you going to do nothing and inevitably spread someone else’s mess all over your space, or are you going to be more conscious about what you let into your home and, therefore, take the time necessary to clean things up?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Confidence takes what you have and amplifies it. Confidence makes anyone sexy.

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As on Purpose as Possible (Blog #974)

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Currently it’s just after midnight. Two hours ago I sat down to blog but got distracted by YouTube videos. Then, when I saw one of my friends post that they’d done some digital house cleaning, I decided to do the same. I did this several years ago, culling my Facebook friends list from 2,400 to 1,800. And whereas I didn’t have it in me to go through my entire list tonight, I did go through part of it and trimmed down–I don’t know–50 friends. Not that I have anything against these people. But if we haven’t communicated or even liked each others’ posts in ten years, well, that says something.

Hey, we can always try again.

One of the reasons I dove into this project tonight is that more and more I’m concerned with the management of my personal (mental, emotional, and spiritual) energy. Think of it this way. You can be selective about what you watch on television, but you can’t be selective about what the stations tell you when you have them on. Likewise, every person or page you follow on social media gets to broadcast into your psyche. They get immediate access. Look at my kid, look at my cat, the flu’s going around, that politician’s a jerk! Of course, in real life we’d never let 2,000 of our acquaintances march into our living room and say whatever they wanted for 5 minutes or even 15 seconds. Nor would we take the time to peer into our neighbors’ windows Gladys Kravitz style if it required leaving our couches, creeping across the street, and hiding behind their bushes–even if they invited us to. Why? Because it would take too much energy.

But, Marcus, it’s different online.

That’s exactly my point. It may SEEM different online, but it’s not. What’s draining is draining. Again, if you wouldn’t let someone vomit their political or personal rant on your dining room table, why would you let them do it on your newsfeed? Trust me, your mind, emotions, and spirit don’t discriminate. If you don’t believe me, think of the last time you got upset–lost a single minute of peace–because of what someone said online or how they reacted or didn’t react to something you posted. I don’t even have to ask if this has ever happened to you. I know it has. Because our virtual lives are becoming just as real, if not more real, than our actual ones. Which is all the more reason to be–what’s the word?–discriminating about how we live them.

Getting back to my physical life, this morning I had breakfast with my dear friend Kara. Kara and I went to high school together and have purposed to stay in touch with each other ever since. Consequently, our breakfast was delightful. Needless to say, if Kara were ON Facebook, I’d keep her around. Anyway, get this. While Kara and I were eating I noticed my friend Gwen at the table next to us. Gwen’s a fellow writer whom I met years ago through a magazine I used to work for, and we’ve purposed to stay in touch online (message occasionally, read and interact with one another’s posts). So when Gwen got up to leave and I said hello, it was the perfect thing (like, yippee!), exactly what social media is lovely for (true connection).

Conversely, and getting back to MY RANT about social media, I’ve seen Facebook friends in public before and not only not said hello, but avoided them. Or they’ve avoided me. Either way, we didn’t speak. Tonight as I was wondering whom to keep and whom to let go, I thought, If I wouldn’t talk to this person in a restaurant, I don’t need their stuff on my feed and they don’t need my stuff on theirs. In some cases I thought, But maybe (after ten years) we WILL interact, and then I definitely hit the unfriend button. Because that’s desperate, and that’s scarcity.

That being said, as my therapist says, life is long. You never know what’s going to happen. Sometimes people circle back around.

More and more, I’m learning to trust that whenever someone shows up in our experience (like at a restaurant), it’s time–and that whenever someone slides (or storms) out of our experience, it’s time. Once I had someone tell me that life was a series of attractions and repulsions. Like, go here, don’t go there. Friend them, don’t friend them. This isn’t about making anyone else right or wrong, of course. Nor is it about being right or wrong or better than or less than. It’s simply about doing what’s best for you, about keeping both your physical and virtual space as clean, nourishing, and on purpose as possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”

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On Teaching Your Mind to Heal (Blog #970)

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The last two nights I’ve posted my blogs between two and three in the morning. And whereas I’m a self-professed night owl, this seriously can’t happen tonight. Therefore, I’m writing now, at five in the evening. However, since I have somewhere to be at six, this has got to be short. I’ve got this hangup about thinking things must be a certain way–perfect–but if the dog I’m house sitting for can spend three hours every morning in the bed next to me licking himself, then I can do myself the kindness of writing a shorter blog.

But seriously, he licks himself SO MUCH. His slurping is SO LOUD.

Maybe I’ve just gotten hyper sensitive to sounds in my old age.

Maybe I’m jealous.

While I’m talking about this dog, y’all, you should see him. I don’t know what breed he is, but he’s big. That’s it, he’s a big breed. A little dinosaur, really. Anyway, twice I day I wrangle him into his collar and leash, and we walk around the neighborhood. No, I take that back, he DRAGS me around the neighborhood. And whereas I stay MOSTLY in control, there are times when my left knee (the one I had surgery on) isn’t quite “with it.” Sometimes when he’s surprised and darts toward a squirrel or another dog, it’s all I can do to keep my shoulder in its socket.

Naturally, this situation is frustrating. Behave! I think. But the fact is the dog simply hasn’t been TRAINED to sit still when having its collar and leash put on or to HEEL while walking. Short of this training, of course, he’s just a wild beast. A savage animal dragging around a homosexual on the beat-up streets of Fort Smith, Arkansas.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions, and a word that came up was compulsive. “That’s a familiar emotion,” I said, thinking about how I stayed up for an hour last night scouring the internet for one of my favorite songs, Style by Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby. (This song used to be my alarm clock; now my alarm clock is a big dog licking himself.) And whereas I easily found the song itself, I couldn’t for the life of me find the PARTICULAR VERSION that I wanted (and used to have but lost in a hard drive crash three years ago). Anyway, I kept thinking, Just message your friend Charles in the morning. (Charles has a music library worthy of the Smithsonian.) Still, I couldn’t let it go. I kept looking and looking–to no avail. Thankfully–finally–I gave up and went to bed.

The good news–Charles had what I was looking for and more (outtakes, etc.). If you’re interested, the BASIC song is below. What’s missing and what I have now–thanks, Chuck–is the part where, just after singing this whole song about dressing up and having style and class, Dean Martin says, “Come on, get some clothes on or we’ll be late for breakfast.” Hilarious.

Getting back to the idea of being compulsive, it occurs to me that if you’re in the habit of obsessing or worrying about something or someone, it’s just because your mind’s been trained to drag your around–either by yourself or someone else (like your parents). If you’re NOT calm and peaceful, especially when you’re simply sitting in a perfectly calm and peaceful living room staring at your computer, it’s only because you haven’t trained yourself to be. This is where the practices of slowing down, being mindful, and meditation come in. Any sort of discipline will work. My mind used to kick up a fuss about sitting down and writing every day, but now it’s just the way it is. I actually get excited about it. At least with respect to blogging, my mind has learned to heel.

Or, if you prefer, to heal.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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We All Need Soothing (Blog #967)

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Well crap. All day I’ve been worn the eff out. The last few days I’ve slept more than a bear in hibernation, but I just can’t seem to get my rear in gear. Plus, my hips have been hurting. The weather must be changing. Oh no. Is THIS what it’s like to get older? If so, you can have it. Of course, it beats the alternative (dying). Still, I wonder if it wouldn’t help if I were a SMIDGE less cognizant of my body. That is, as a dancer I’m pretty tuned into every square inch of my physical self, and–I don’t know–maybe I wouldn’t make such a big deal about things getting slightly out of whack if I were one of those less self-aware people who, as my dad says, can’t find their ass with both hands. But just imagine how inconvenient that would be.

Especially when going to the bathroom.

But I digress.

I spent this afternoon doing laundry, first my clothes, then my sheets. That’s right, smart alecks, I’ve now washed my sheets twice this quarter. (Miracles never cease.) Anyway, while the washer and dryer were doing their thing, I started reading a book about the importance of the vagus nerve, the longest nerve (that’s actually two nerves) in your body and the one that’s the most responsible for regulating not only your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, but also your heart, liver, and lungs. In other words, it’s important. And whereas I haven’t gotten to the part in the book about how to consciously activate your vagus nerve (and thus calm down your body and stimulate healing), I’ve heard before that humming or singing, as well as gentle rocking, help switch your vagus nerve from the “let’s freak out” to the “everything’s gonna be just fine” position. This makes sense to me. Think about how babies respond to humming, singing, and gentle rocking. Well, you and I are no different.

We all need soothing.

This evening I helped a friend update their website. Okay, fine, we technically started over, since their site hasn’t been updated in eight years. And whereas starting over obviously required more work, we had the best time. At least I did. I spent most of my college years engrossed in photography, layout, and design and have spent most of my years since engrossed in writing and communication, so this really was the perfect thing for my friend to ask me to do. I dove right in. That being said, since each website hosting platform is different, much of tonight was a learning curve–how to change font sizes and what not. But hey, I like learning and my friend bought dinner, so Hakuna Matata!

My friend and I worked on their site for–I don’t know–four hours, then I worked on it a few more when I got home. I guess I got hyper-focused on figuring out how to add pictures and link to their social media accounts and couldn’t let it go. (I’m no Elsa.) While I was with my friend I kept futzing around with text alignment–to the left, to the center, to the right. My friend said, “This is why you DON’T want someone who’s OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE designing your website.” I said, “This is why you DO want someone who’s obsessive compulsive designing your site.” Along these lines, my therapist says there are times when my perfectionism serves me. Because it allows me to attend to ALL THE DETAILS when redecorating a room or redesigning a website or whatever. I just need to be able to turn my perfectionism off so I don’t use it against myself. (Like, my nipples aren’t perfect, and all that.)

JUST ENJOY YOUR NIPPLES, MARCUS.

Now, the fact that I stayed up until two tonight working on my friend’s site when 1) I was already tired and 2) there’s not a deadline–I guess–means I haven’t quite figured out how to turn my perfectionism off. At the same time, it may just mean that I got excited about something, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We creatives (that is, all of us) need to get enthused about new projects now and then. My friend and I tonight were brainstorming ideas and ended up laughing, laughing, laughing. This is huge. Not just having fun, but also bringing LIFE to yourself, to others, and to your work.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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The Stiller You Are (Blog #965)

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A few quick things before my dad and I go to the gym and hopefully work off some of the tater-tot casserole we just ate. And yes, tater-tot casserole is a thing. Get thee behind me Satan.

I mean, get thee inside me.

1. On slowing down

Today I lay in bed reading a book I started–I don’t know–in May. I’ve had my nose poked in numerous other books lately (thank God I have a lot of bookmarks), but saw this book last night and got re-interested. Anyway, my original plan was to go to the library this afternoon, but after I started reading this book I decided to stay home. I thought, You don’t always have to be running around. So back to my bed, back to my book I went. What’s the lesson, kids?

Everything else can wait.

2. On silence

Yesterday while I was at the library watching videos, there was a moment when one video ended before the next one started and there was complete silence. Y’all, I nearly flipped out. It was–what’s the word?–unsettling. I guess in today’s world there’s always SOMETHING going on. In my world, there’s always something going IN–tater tots in my mouth, noise in my ears, knowledge in my head. Today I read so much–a hundred and fifty pages of small print–that my eyes started hurting. Y’all, I FINISHED my book, but I kept thinking I needed to read more, to finish ANOTHER BOOk. Now I’m sitting near my window and can hear the rain falling. THIS is what I need, this fundamental reconnection with the basic stillness of life.

3. On knowing thyself

Ever since I started therapy I’ve kept a list of things to talk to my therapist about. And whereas in the beginning I would jot down the list on a piece of paper (or a paint stick that my therapist and I started calling The Paint Stick of Truth) and later throw it away, for the last couple years I’ve kept the list on my computer. (Please don’t hack me; you might see your name.) And whereas I’ve been seeing my therapist for almost six years, we never run out of things to talk about. The list continues to grow.

Often during the last ten minutes of my therapy session I will begin to freak out, like, But there’s stuff on the list we haven’t talked about. This is, of course, the same anxiety I experience when I read only one book a day or look at my bank account–the anxiety of THERE’S NOT ENOUGH (time, information, money). But the truth is–there is. The truth is I’m constantly overwhelmed with time and attention from my therapist, just as I am overwhelmed with information. I’ve probably learned more this year than some of my ancestors learned in a decade. And whereas I’m not to the point I’m willing to say that I’ve been overwhelmed with money, I am willing to say that I’ve seen A LOT of it come and come. So maybe I am overwhelmed with money.

But I’m also overwhelmed with Amazon.

Getting back to my therapy list, I realized today that because I often prioritize my list, it’s become a perfect way for me to know not only WHAT mentally and emotionally drains me, but also HOW MUCH it drains me. Once my therapist said, “If someone or somethings is showing up on your list over and over again, that’s a good sign there’s something wrong.” Her solution? Boundaries, of course. My point being that even if you don’t see a therapist and make a list, it’s important to know what’s under your skin and who’s got your goat. You could even ask your friends, “Is there something I bitch about all the time? What do you think I can’t let go of?” And then stop bitching about it, let go of it. I realize it’s not “that easy,” of course, but I’m saying–start dealing with it. Not just for your benefit, but also for everyone else’s.

The stiller you are, the stiller we are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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It’s Not the End of the World (Blog #962)

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Phew. This last week I committed a lot of food sins. I ate hamburgers and fries, chocolate cake, and peanut butter and jelly–from the jar. And whereas I enjoyed every minute of it, there was a price to pay. From a week ago today, this morning I was up four pounds. Yowza. Most of the day I haven’t been sure how I feel about this, but this evening I decided I might as well like it–since what’s done is done and I although I can’t immediately change the results, I can change how I think about them. Like, It’s not the end of the world, and maybe a few extra pounds will keep me from freezing to death.

The weather has been cold lately.

Partly because my weight was up and partly because I’ve been doing it one day a week anyway, today I’ve fasted. This afternoon I went to the movie theater with friends to see Charlie’s Angels and actually turned down hot buttered popcorn. Twice. Talk about willpower. That being said, if someone walked into this room right now and offered me dinner consisting solely of my leather dress shoes (get it, solely?), I’d accept.

With some ketchup, of course.

I’m not a complete barbarian.

In addition to giving my body a chance to cleanse from last night’s indulgences (I went to a wedding and a birthday party and ate a total of four platefuls of food and three pieces of cake), today’s fasting is reminding me of the importance of balance. Not that every meal has to be balanced, but like, if you overdo it, you should–at some point–underdo it. I think this is why my therapist is such a big fan of my using this period of my life to slow down and chill out. I’ve spent so many years go, go, going, it’s like I need the rest. Not just because my body is sometimes tired, but also because, as she says, the natural state of the universe is neutral. Meaning that what goes up, MUST come down.

Did you hear that, bathroom scales?

One thing about not eating all day is that it makes it harder to think. Like, right now I can’t quite put my finger on what I’d like to say. Other than, Dear lord, would someone please give me a hot dog on a bun?! That’s another thing about not eating. It makes you irritable. Not that this is the worst thing. Recently I heard that if you trust someone, you could ask them, “What do you think I should know about myself but are afraid to tell me because you don’t think I’d react well?” Whether you do this or not, I think it’s worth considering for yourself, and it’s why I say being irritable isn’t the worst thing. It’s good to know your triggers. What is it that makes you feel scared and vulnerable, throw a temper tantrum, act petty?

Getting back to the idea of balance, if you know what your triggers are, you can work with them consciously and therefore mitigate your own potentially volatile reactions. I’ve said before that I have a lot of triggers around money, but recently I realized that I’m already living one of my worst financial fears–being back at home with my parents and not knowing when my next paycheck is going to come along. I’ve actually been living this way for almost three years now. And you know what? It’s not that bad. Could things get worse? For sure, but what my mental, emotional, and physical triggers around money have taught me is that I can handle whatever comes along. This doesn’t help me LOVE my circumstances more, but it does help me ACCEPT them. This is huge because for the rest of my life it means I don’t have to freak out every time a circumstance is challenging.

It seems to me that a lot of life is freaking out about one thing or another–how much you weigh, how much money is in your bank account. I said recently that I’ve observed a number of supervisors backstage at musicals, and that some of them are rude and some of them are kind, but either way the work always gets done. The implication being, All things being equal, why not be kind? Along these lines, if life has taught you that you can handle whatever comes along and that everything is always fine in the end, why not stop freaking out? Or are you addicted to the drama? But seriously. So you’re weight’s up one day and down the next. So your bank account is too. You’re okay.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

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His Jar Is Always Open (Blog #960)

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When I was teenager, I worked at a summer camp in Mississippi. Simply put, it was a magical experience. Especially that first summer when I was sixteen. Life back home was difficult, and summer camp was an oasis. I made friends I still keep in touch with over twenty years later, played silly games, taught kids how to canoe. And whereas I could go on and on about this, the point is that when I got back home, I TRIED telling important people in my life what a transformative experience it was, and they were like, “Oh? That’s nice. We have a pot roast for dinner.” In short, at least from my perspective, they didn’t “get” it.

My response? I stopped talking about summer camp, stopped sharing my stories about the place that meant so much to me.

Now I realize those people weren’t meant to get it. When Dorothy came back from the Land of Oz, she was simply over the moon–er, rainbow–about all that had happened to her (“And you were there, and you were there!”), but her family was convinced it was a dream. Why? Because they hadn’t been where she’d been. It was Dorothy’s trip alone. Still, what a shame it would have been for her (or L. Frank Baum) to have kept her story to herself. Think how much poorer the world would have been.

I say all this because I recently had an experience that was very special to me but have been hesitant to share it, in part because I don’t think I can quite convey it with words, in part because even if I could, I’m sure there would still be those who doubt it. On Facebook I recently read about someone else’s similar experience, and one of their “friends” said, “This is confirmation bias at its finest.” My therapist’s comment to this was, “You know, everyone on the internet thinks they’re an expert about everything.” Anyway, everyone else’s opinion be damned. More and more it’s enough for me to trust my own experiences. More and more I’m willing to authentically share anything and everything about my life and let people get it or not. Plus–and this is the most important thing–I know that I’ve found help and encouragement from the stories of others, so perhaps others can find help and encouragement from mine.

So with that (I know) very long prologue, let us proceed.

Earlier this summer I took an online class with intuitive Robert Ohotto, and our first “assignment” was to draw a card from Caroline Myss’s archetype deck, the idea being that whatever card you drew would 1) not be accidental and 2) would be important for some reason. While taking this class I blogged about shifting from old patterns of thought and behavior to new ones, so I thought of this card simply as a pattern (or archetypal energy) that wanted to emerge from within me. (This is the part where I don’t want to be misunderstood.) I drew the GOD card.

Now, one could obviously get a big head about identifying with this card, but, to be clear, we’re talking about archetypes, not being literal. That is, meditating on or associating yourself with this card isn’t about feeling superior to anyone else or believing that you can shoot lighting bolts out of your butt. (Although that would be cool, albeit painful.) Rather, as the card says, it’s about recognizing the eternal force that resides within you. As I’ve said a number of times, I often think of myself as weak, so for me it’s been about recognizing that I’m more powerful than I give myself credit for. Anyway, I’ve had the card on my altar all summer.

So get this shit.

Last Saturday (a week ago tomorrow) one of the first things I saw when I woke up was a post from my friend Tina, a dancer I met on one of my trips to Austin. Tina said she’d recently had a transformative experience with an intuitive artist named Charles, that all she did was text Charles her name and that he drew a picture of her–not her physically, but her emotionally, spiritually. She also said that included with his drawing (which Charles did and does strictly on a donation basis), Charles offered a phone call to EXPLAIN both his process and what her particular drawing might be about. Well, I’m pretty intrigued by and open to this sort of thing, so before I crawled out of bed I texted Charles my name. Immediately he texted back, “Yes, of course. I’ll have it done within a couple days.”

Here’s the drawing he sent me this last Monday night.

Considering the archetype card I drew earlier this summer, which, by the way, only me and my therapist have known about, I was blown away when I saw Charles’s drawing. Plus, I instantly and intuitively felt it to be “true” on a number of levels. For example, the guy in the drawing (me) clearly is keeping his emotions in a jar, and that’s something I admittedly do and have written about it extensively. Granted, I’m better about shoving my emotions down than I used to be, but still, it’s sort of my thing. As Charles would explain later, “You’re using your willpower [right side] to keep your emotions in check.”

By the time I spoke to Charles on the phone (a day after I got the drawing), I thought I’d noticed everything about the drawing there was to notice. How wrong I was. But first, let’s back up. Charles said whenever he draws someone, he firsts asks God (whom he calls Yahweh), “Show me Marcus, show me whoever.” He said, “The idea is that this image is both how the universe sees you and how you see yourself. It’s your past, it’s your present, and it’s a tool for moving into your future or full potential.” Then he explained that, much like in a dream, “Everything in the drawing is you.” This means the two columns are me, the guy is me, the jar is me, and so on.

I won’t go on about every detail, but, for example, I told Charles that the two pillars in my life were my family and my therapist, and he replied, “Okay, life is a mirror and a hologram, so that means that your family and your therapist simply reflect back to you those parts of yourself that are strong, solid, or whatever.”

Overall, Charles said the main message of the image was about balancing my masculine (right side) and feminine (left side) energies. Notice how my right side is crying, but my left side isn’t. Notice how there’s a ring (which stands for commitment) on my left side but not my right. The other main message, he said, was about not just feeling and expressing my emotions, but also not being selective about with whom I share my love (hearts in the jar) and wisdom (Greek-like senator or philosopher in “The Thinker” position).

For over an hour, Charles and I went through the whole illustration. “There are no accidents,” he said. “The blue-white robe represents communication. The nipple represents sensitivity and nurturing. The clouds represent three masculine figures in your life and two feminine. The foot represents boundaries [as in, put your foot down]. The fact that there are more golden leaves on the right side than the left and that you noticed? That’s about your perfectionism [guilty]. Enjoy the imperfections!”

I’d say Charles’s drawing “nailed me” and that his suggested interpretations were ninety percent accurate or better. In my experience with intuitives and counselors, this is an extremely high percentage. Plus, as I’ve continued to meditate on his drawing this week, I’ve found it to be true on multiple levels. For example, I can identify the three masculine and two feminine figures represented by the clouds, and I can also associate the clouds with the five major creative ideas or projects I’ve started (three having to do with the blog, two having to do with the world of young adult fiction).

These details are endlessly fascinating to me, but the detail or idea I keep coming back to is one I blogged about last night–the importance of the heart, the importance of having it as my guiding force (over my head), the importance of not keeping any part of myself shoved down simply because I might be afraid of someone else’s reaction or lack of support. (As indicated in the drawing, I have plenty of support already.) Charles said, “You probably gave your heart to someone in the past and ended up getting punched in the bread basket!” (Accurate.) But I know now that the love inside me is never diminished by someone else’s ability to recognize or receive it. Plus, God doesn’t love us only if we “get” it. His hand doesn’t hold anything back. His jar is always open.

[If you’re interested in working with Charles, text your first name to Charles Prophet, 971-283-3600. Be prepared for wisdom, support, and encouragement. And fabulously bad jokes.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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The One Working the Night Shift (Blog #959)

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Today I’ve been perfectly content to lie around. This morning I slept in then ate breakfast. This afternoon I watched a television show and a movie. Then for lunch I ate a plateful of peanut butter and jelly. No bread or anything else, just straight up high fructose corn sugar. And whereas part of me felt I was instantaneously undoing the results of all my good choices over the last several weeks (have I mentioned I’ve lost ten pounds?), another part of me knew I needed a break from strict living and enjoyed every delicious bite. My life is a constant struggle between these two forces–the hard ass and the slacker.

The party pooper (no peanut butter for you) and the partier (pass the peanut butter; and no thanks, I’ll just eat it out of the jar).

The evening, partly in an effort to make myself feel better for eating junk for lunch, I exercised at home. And whereas I didn’t go balls to the wall, it was something. Then I ate dinner (one step up from grape jelly–chips and enchiladas), then I did some myofascial release with a lacrosse ball while listening to a free audio program by Caroline Myss and Jim Curtan about how The Wizard of Oz can be used as a template for personal and spiritual growth. Now it’s almost eleven, and, quite frankly, I’m done for the day. My party pooper keeps telling me I should have done more, need to do more, but my partier (the one who would actually have to get out of this bed in order to be more productive) is pooped and keeps telling me to rest.

I wish I had something more exciting to share.

Here’s something interesting. Since starting this blog I’ve caught a decent amount of flack from others and (subsequently) myself about the fact that–most of the time–I write late at night instead of during the day like “normal” people. (Who’d want to be normal? But I digress.) And whereas I readily admit that I’m less stressed and less tired when I write during the day, I’ve found there’s a certain magic that’s present when I write under the moon as opposed to under the sun. Well, get this shit. The audio program I listened to tonight said that as a species we use our heads to make decisions during the day and our hearts to make decisions at night. Who knows why. Maybe our minds need a nap. I just think it’s fascinating that–most of the time–the things I write about here are more concerned with the heart (my heart, specifically) than with the mind. My point is, I’m not sure this project COULD be written solely during daylight hours when my heart is, apparently, less accessible.

Recently my therapist and I discussed a situation in which someone asked me to do something and my gut immediately told me not to (so I didn’t). My therapist said, “Your gut was speaking to you loud and clear, so you don’t need my confirmation, but no, I wouldn’t have done it either.” I tell this story because I’d never want anyone to think that my therapist TELLS me what to do or that she even offers me advice. Certainly not unsolicited advice. (I have family and friends for that). Rather, what she does–and what I think we’d all be better off if we did–is offer perspective, a different way of looking at the situations and relationships in my life. More than this, she AFFIRMS my own inner wisdom and ability to decide for myself. For example, she’s never once told me what I should eat (except, “if your’e going to eat sweets, eat the good shit”), when I should or shouldn’t write, or when I should go to bed or wake up.

Why not, Marcus?

Because I’m an adult, and “it’s inappropriate for one adult to tell another what to do.”

I guess I’m talking about this because we all have a lot of voices in our lives–family, friends, co-workers, pastors, counselors–who tell us what we SHOULD be doing–with our lives, jobs, lovers, wardrobes, and money. At the VERY LEAST, we all have voices in our heads that constantly criticize us and give us grief. Our inner party pooper hates our inner peanut butter eater, and so on. More and more I’m learning to trust my path (as unconventional as it may be) and disregard any voice (even a well-meaning one, even one of my own) that suggests I take a single step off of it. How do you know you’re on the right path? Easy. You listen to your heart. You get to know the one working the night shift.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Being scared isn’t always an invitation to run away. More often than not, it’s an invitation to grow a pair and run toward.

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