A Little Song, a Little Dance, a Little Seltzer Down Your Pants (Blog #899)

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This afternoon I went shopping with a friend. The whole point of our getting out was for them to find a jacket. Alas, they couldn’t find one. So they bought a shirt, and I bought three. And a pair of pants. Gosh, living was a lot cheaper when I was in mourning, when I wore the same black shirt every day. (Johnny Cash really knew what he was doing.) That being said, I have no regrets. What’s the saying? Variety is the spice of life.

After shopping, my friend and I went out to dinner, a late birthday celebration. (My birthday was two days ago.) And whereas I won’t go into everything we discussed while shopping and eating (because it doesn’t matter and, more importantly, I don’t remember), I will say we laughed a lot. That’s one of the things I adore about me and this particular friend–we’re always cracking up.

Caroline Myss says, “Think about whether you truly have a sense of humor. [My thought–if you have to think about it, you don’t.] Healing is enhanced with humor, and laughter can lighten almost anything–certainly most day-to-day irritations. Your goal: to bring humor to everything that causes you stress, as this is one of the most empowered responses you can have.”

How does this work? Well, if you don’t have a sense of humor, I’m not sure. But if you do, it’s simply a matter of perspective, how you choose to see something. In terms of “day-to-day irritations,” for example, this morning I was trying to pick up a few items to put in the recycle bin–with one hand. Well, I dropped them everywhere. And whereas my first response was, Fuck!, my second response was laughter. It’s like I could see it happening to someone else in a movie, and all of a sudden it was funny. This morning, because our dog made a mess last night, I used a green rag to clean a section of the carpet of the room I’m currently in and ended up turning the carpet light green. I told Mom about it tonight, and she said, “Don’t worry, that carpet’s shit anyway.”

Perspective.

In terms of major drama/trauma, my therapist says, “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” This, I think, is why minorities (Jews, African Americans, women, gays) often make the best stand-up comedians. They’ve been through hell. What’s left if you go through hell and manage to survive in one piece? A joke. Not that you should laugh about your personal tragedies every minute of every day, but you should at least be able to laugh about them sometimes, with certain people. I can’t tell you the number of times my therapist and I have joked about what most people would consider pretty serious stuff. If someone were listening to us, they might think, Talk about dark humor. But my therapist says some things are just “too much” to deal with head-on all the time.

There’s an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show about the death of Chuckles the Clown. The guys in the newsroom think the whole situation is hilarious. At the funeral one of them says, “We’ll know who the rest of the clowns are when they all jump out of a little hearse.” But Mary doesn’t see the humor. “A man has died,” she says. Finally, in the middle of the memorial, Mary starts giggling. When the priest quotes Chukles’s motto–a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants–Mary bursts out laughing. The guys are confused, but the priest encourages her to laugh. “Chuckles would have wanted you to,” he says. At which point Mary starts sobbing.

To me this scene illustrates the fact that sadness and happiness, tragedy and comedy, are closely related–and there needs to a balance. That is, if there’s something in your life you’ve only ever been sad about, maybe it’s time to find the humor in it. Even if it’s just the humor of saying, “This is my frickin’ life.” Conversely, if there’s something you’ve only ever joked about, maybe it’s time to cry about it. Maybe you’re using your humor not as a way to heal, but as a way to avoid healing, a way to avoid really dealing with something, a way to avoid dealing with yourself.

How do you know the difference?

Personally, I think, What am I running away from? If I’m making jokes in order to not express anger, draw boundaries, or have an uncomfortable conversation, it’s not really helping me heal. If I’m making light of the heavy situations in my life in order to keep from falling apart, and falling apart is really what I need to do, it’s not helping me heal. But if I’m doing The Hard Work and am willing to sit with any and every emotion that comes up, then I’m practicing acceptance. That’s what you want to get to, and humor is one way to do it. After you’ve cried and raged, humor can open a door and let acceptance in. Laughter can help you really let go of the past and embrace your life not only for what it’s been, but also for what it is. “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants” can–finally–transport you back to right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Use the Difficulty (Blog #898)

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Last night, for my thirty-ninth birthday, I went out to eat with several of my dear friends. It was the perfect thing–good people, good food, good god I’m getting older. But seriously, it was a fabulous night. Yesterday I joked that thankfully no one had sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. And whereas last night no one put a sombrero on my head, the wait staff did sing to me. Which I was fine with, since they also brought me a chocolate dessert (!) with four candles on it. I guess one candle for every 9.75 years I’ve been alive. When they finished singing, one of the waiters smiled and said, “Congratulations.”

I was like, “For making it this long?”

After dinner my friends and I went downtown for live music, a band none of us had ever heard before. My friend Justin described it as a mix of blues, rock, and folk. You know, good-ole-boy stuff. For me, it was just the right thing. Not over-the-top amazing, but solid nonetheless. Enjoyable. One of the last songs they played before we left was a swing tune, so Justin and I danced east coast swing together. It was awesome. Except that my hips hurt today. Maybe this is part of getting older. (Congratulations.)

Whenever I dance with another guy in public, especially in Fort Smith, Arkansas, I’m self-conscious. I think, I wonder if people are watching. I wonder if I’m going to get beat up. Personally, I don’t think anyone should have to fret about their safety if they’re simply doing something (or someone) they love, but this is the world we live in. I didn’t make the rules. Plus, I’m starting to think people as a whole are more accepting, or at least less aggressive, than I thought they were. Last night while Justin and I were dancing a big “dude” came out of the bathroom and looked at us. Then he just kept walking. Like, no big deal. Now, I don’t know what he was thinking–it could have been, Disgusting, or I wish I could do that (or him). Either way, it turns out there was enough room in the bar, in the world for all of us.

This afternoon I spent some time reading Terry Gross’s All I Did Was Ask, a compilation of interviews Terry’s conducted on National Public Radio’s Fresh Air. One of the last interviews I read was with Michael Caine, the actor. In it he shares one of the best pieces of advice he ever received. The deal was that once he was supposed to walk into a room, through a doorway, but there was a chair on the other side that was in his way. His director said, “Use the difficulty.” Caine said, “What do you mean?” So the director explained, “If it’s a drama, pick up the chair and smash it. If it’s a comedy, trip over the chair and fall on the floor.”

Use the difficulty. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Five-and-a-half years ago I was absolutely heartbroken and depressed. Looking back, I guess I could have, would have gotten over it eventually. Instead, I was more proactive and started therapy. Hands down, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Likewise, I’ve had a number of other challenging relationships over the years. Instead of seeing them as “a bunch of bullshit,” I’ve seen them as opportunities for growth–chances for me to speak up, set boundaries, or change unproductive patterns. Think of a difficult person or situation in your life–maybe a health problem. What if instead of complaining you thought, This is a chance for me to dig deep, to really change, a chance for me to get my act together? What if instead of pushing your challenges away you thought, This situation belongs to me. It has my name written all over it?

More and more, this is the way I’m coming to see my life. I can look at every challenging thing in my past and see how it’s been a chance for me to mature. I could whine and bitch that the world isn’t the same for guys who dance together, but the truth is that’s just the difficulty I’ve been given, and it’s my choice whether or not to use it. Aren’t you given similar choices on a daily basis–the chance to be patient, the chance to be forgiving? Regardless of what’s challenging for you, ask yourself, Will I use my difficulty, or will my difficulty use me? In terms of me and whether or not I dance in public, I know that if I let my fears control me, I could very well end up sitting down for the rest of my life. Or I could stand up, dance, and let the chips fall where they may. I could get ever more so comfortable in my own skin and see that–most of the time–people respond positively to that. And if they don’t? That’s their difficulty, their chance to grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rest gives us time to dream. One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

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On Growing Up (Blog #897)

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Well, hello. Today is my birthday. Thirty-nine years ago I came charging into this world. And whereas I’ve slowed down–a little–I’m still going. (Look out, future, here I come, at my own pace.) All day my dad’s been telling total strangers it’s my birthday. Thankfully, none of them have sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. But this afternoon a waitress did say, “Thirty-nine! Time flies! Where does it go?”

“Behind you,” I said.

Byron Katie says, “Do you know what I love about the past? It’s over.”

Amen. Thirty-nine years. Over.

To celebrate my big day, this morning my dad and I got up early–at six-thirty–and went to Irish Maid Donuts. This is something we normally only do on Father’s Day and his birthday, but I guess it’s becoming our thing. You won’t hear any complaints from me. From my insulin, maybe.

Diet starts next week.

When dad and I got home from the donut shop, I went back to bed for a few hours. When I got up, my mom, my dad, two of my aunts, and I went to The Egg and I for more celebrating, more eating. This is what my entire weekend promises to be filled with–food. And whereas my stomach is already starting to put up a fuss, I plan to hang in there.

Diet starts next week.

So far today over a hundred friends and family members have messaged, texted, posted, or called to wish me happy birthday. This happens every year, but it continues to take my breath away. It’s so easy to think that people don’t care or remember you, but they do. What’s more, if only for a moment, they’re willing to take time out of their day to wish you well. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. No one owes me anything. Not my friends, not my family, not my lovers (well, ex-lovers; I’m currently taking applications). Caroline Myss says that if someone loves you, it’s not because they HAVE to, it’s because they WANT to. When you really get this, it’s a game-changer. When I really get this, it even shifts my perspective about people I don’t want to see again. Not that it makes me want to see them, but it does make me grateful for any love that’s been exchanged between us. Because again–anything I’ve received from another has been a gift, not a payment of a debt owed.

This morning my dad and I had a conversation about liars. We both know a few. I once dated one. Dad said, “Do you think they ever think about the damage they cause?” I said, “I think everyone has a soul and a conscience, so sure, but I also think it takes a big person to just come right out and say, ‘I know I hurt you and I’m sorry.'” Think about it. How often do YOU think you’ve done something wrong? Isn’t it always someone else’s fault? I know that’s how I usually feel, so I can only assume it would be the same for someone else, even someone who lies, cheats, steals, or kills. We all justify our behavior.

I’m talking about this now because as I get older, I think about these things more. How do my words and actions affect others? I know that I’ve broken more than one heart not because I was straight-up lying or cheating but because I was lying to myself (and them) about how compatible we were. That’s what I realized with my ex. I observed their bad behavior but lied to myself (and them) about it not mattering. When it fact it mattered a lot. We think of lies as these big, huge things, but they’re not. They’re subtle things. Little stories we tell ourselves. For example, how many times have you said, “Diet starts next week,” when you know damn good and well it’ll most likely never start at all? This is why the truth is scary. This is why it’s painful. It shows you who you really are. The one who isn’t disciplined. The one who’s too afraid to leave. The one who’s scared to be alone. It cuts you like a knife.

What’s outside you is inside you.

Earlier today a friend posted something like, if you could go back and give your younger self advice in two words, what would you say? People said things like, be strong, be kind, keep going. I thought, get laid, but my answer was, speak up! This has been both one of the best and most difficult things I’ve learned to do since starting therapy–learning to speak my truth. Because looking back, I’ve always known what it was. I knew my ex was a liar, and I knew other exes were cheaters. But again, by not saying something or leaving sooner, I was lying to myself, cheating myself out of something better. This is what “the world is your mirror” means. It means what’s outside you is inside you. It means we all play a part in things. It means no one is to blame.

I hate this as much as you do.

But it’s part of growing up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even if you can't be anything you want to be, you can absolutely be who you were meant to be. Don't let anyone else tell you differently.

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On Myths, My Birthday, and Metonic Cycles (Blog #532)

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There’s a theory regarding myths and fairy tales that they exist not to convey historical facts or to simply entertain us, but rather to teach us truths. Better said, they exist to teach us truths about ourselves. In other words, you should be able to identify every character (at least every main character) in a myth or fairy tale as PART OF your own psyche. For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Glinda the Good Witch would be your light or conscious self, and The Wicked Witch of the West would be your shadow or subconscious self. Interpreted this way, the marriage of a prince and princess (or the rescuing of a damsel in distress by a gallant knight) would signify the coming together of two opposite forces within you, such as your light and shadow sides, your conscious and subconscious selves, your yin and yang, your male and female powers, your sun and moon.

This “joining together” is the idea behind “happily ever after” and is what the mystics call “going beyond the pairs of opposites.” In the Biblical tradition this transformation from “duality” into “oneness” is depicted as the going back to The Garden of Eden or eating from the Tree of Life rather than from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. (Note that Good and Evil are, again, opposites.) In the Hindu tradition, this marriage or re-union is alluded to (for instance, in proper yoga) when a person’s Kundalini energy rises from their first chakra (at the base of their spine) and flows up their spine in a criss-cross pattern through two “opposite” channels called the Ida and the Pingala and eventually “comes together” at their seventh chakra or the crown of their head. In drawings this is depicted as two snakes criss-crossing up a spine and is, interestingly enough, the same process that the symbol of the Staff of Hermes (the Caduceus) “speaks” of.

Joseph Campbell says that all of this is exactly what’s being depicted in Homer’s The Odyssey, in which Odysseus represents a person’s male or solar power, and Penelope represents a person’s female or lunar power. You remember the tale–Odysseus is separated from his wife (that is, from himself), but through a series of events that include Odysseus’s going into the underworld (that is, his subconscious self or shadow side), the two are eventually able to be reunited (as one whole, integrated person).

I say all this to say–this morning at 8:47, I not only turned 38 years old, but I also completed my second Metonic Cycle.

I’ll explain what a Metonic Cycle is shortly, but first let’s talk about how I partied.

My birthday celebrations officially started last night with dinner with my dear friend Ray. We ate at one of my favorite restaurants in Fayetteville–Theo’s. It was delicious. Plus, the conversation was delightful. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so much. The whole thing was the perfect slow-start to my big day.

This morning–believe it or not–I actually woke up early in order to do a Live Video on Facebook at the time I was born. I’ve wanted to do another video since hitting my 500th blog post a month ago, but life and work have been a real bear lately. Whatever–it worked out this way–and in the video I thanked the readers of the blog (that means you), as well as read an essay about accepting help, saying goodbye, and realizing you’re doing better than you think. Anyway, if you want, you can watch the video below or alternatively on the Live Videos page at the top of the blog. It’s about 22 minutes.

This afternoon I went out for Mexican food with my friend Bonnie (I love Mexican food), then we went to Fort Smith’s new bookstore (I love bookstores), Bookish. The store was super cool, and Bonnie gifted me with a book about the stars and constellations. Afterwards, we went to Starbucks where they gave me a FREE DRINK (of my choice) just because it’s my birthday. How cool is that? Then we went back to Bonnie’s house and ate part of a scrumptious chocolate cake she made me. Y’all, I drank a WHITE-CHOCOLATE mocha while eating CHOCOLATE cake WITH VANILLA ice cream. Talk about joining together things that are opposites!

Seriously–it was nothing short of a spiritual experience.

To top off the day’s festivities, I went out to eat with my parents this evening. I know, super exciting. My life is really sexy. I can read the headline now–Thirty-Eight-Year-Old Man Goes to Dinner with His Mom and Dad (Who Happen to Be His Roommates) on His Birthday. But we really did have a lovely time. I mean, we WERE all together 38 years ago and we’re STILL all together now.

Why not have a little party?

In short, it’s been a fabulous day. Not only have I spent time with some of my darling friends and family, but I’ve also been ravished online with well-wishes and words of encouragement. (Thank you if you participated in this virtual celebration. If you didn’t, it’s not too late. I’m totally okay with belated kindnesses.) Anyway, as I said yesterday, what’s not to like about growing older?

But back to the completion of my second Metonic Cycle. (Hum. How do I explain this?) For the longest time, society has observed a solar calendar in which a year is basically 365 days long. However, some historical societies observed a lunar calendar in which a year is basically 354 days long. (Certain religious groups still use this lunar method for keeping time and calculating holidays.) Anyway, a Metonic Cycle is a period of 19 solar years (or 235 lunar months) and is a way of linking or JOINING TOGETHER the two calendars. Think of it like this–if the Sun and the Moon were (from our point of view) occupying the same space in the sky, it would take 19 years for them to RETURN to that same space in the sky at the same time.

Does anyone want to guess how long Odysseus and Penelope were separated from each other in The Odyssey?

That’s right–19 years.

Another way to think of the Metonic Cycle is that if the moon were in Scorpio at the time you were born (like it was for me in 1980), it would take 19 years for the moon to return to Scorpio AND be in the SAME PHASE as it was when it was there before. For me this means that the moon was WAXING CRESCENT in Scorpio on the morning I was born, it was waxing crescent in Scorpio again on the morning of my 19th birthday, and it was the same thing again this morning.

You can live happily ever after.

Now. Does this “mean” anything? I don’t know that it does. I’ve scoured the internet for theories about why your 19th, 38th, 57th, and 76th birthdays might be significant or important but can’t find a single one. Personally, I know that 19 was a big year for me, since I started dancing just two weeks after my 19th birthday, and that’s certainly been a significant PHASE in my life. But does this mean something just as significant will happen during these next 19 years? Again, who knows? It’s fun to think about. Surely if the sun and the moon can come back together after years of being separated, anything is possible. And surely if princes can marry princesses and knights can rescue damsels in distress, then I can marry myself and I can rescue myself, and I can live happily ever after.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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