On Creating Time (Blog #1002)

Today I’ve been thinking about how we create time. (I’ll explain.) Caroline Myss says that the divine works in present time, in vertical time, where thought moves into form like a lightening flash. God says, “Let there be light,” and there is. Like, instantly, not in the amount of time it takes to earn a college degree or pass a bill through Congress. Conversely, most of us earthlings work in non-present or past and future time, in horizontal time. We say, “Let there be a pot roast,” and–well–we’re looking at waiting the better part of an afternoon, anywhere from four to eight hours for a seven pound hunk of meat using a crock pot.

How do you cook a pot roast faster, Marcus?

You turn up the heat, of course. You switch your dial from low to high.

Yesterday I touched on the idea that we can decide how quickly we want to get over something–anything from a minor irritation to a gigantic heartache–by (in part) refusing to give it our attention and thus keeping it alive. For example, this afternoon while driving I momentarily crossed into the other (wrong) lane in an effort to get into the turning lane. Well, there was a car coming down the other lane (toward me), but they were far enough away (I thought) as to not be dangerous. Alas, the lady driving the oncoming car apparently disagreed, since she laid on her horn like it was going out of style.

“Did you see her flip you the bird?” my dad said.

“No,” I said, “I try not to look at people when I KNOW they’re angry with me.”

Now, could I have handled this better? Probably. But you know how we all make in-the-moment decisions that aren’t always the best in hindsight. I figure this is part of driving. People pull out in front of me all the time, and usually (but not always) I just think they’re in a hurry or that God wants me to learn patience. Hell, maybe they’re doing me a favor, slowing me down and allowing me to miss some horrific accident down the road. You never know. God works in mysterious ways. Anyway, this afternoon when the lady flipped me off, instead of taking it personally like I have in the past, I kept hearing my therapist say, “People choose their reactions.” Like, the bird lady could have CHOSEN to be gracious.

The lesson being that people’s responses have almost everything to do with them and almost nothing to do with you. Not that I’m recommending TRYING to piss people off, but let’s face it, that lady would have flipped ANYONE off who got in her way. So it really didn’t have anything to do with me.

In other words–and here’s a phrase that’s full of grace should you choose to use it for yourself–it wasn’t personal.

Getting back to the idea of creating time, had I CHOSEN to obsess about what a rotten driver I am or what a turd bucket that lady was, I could have dragged this three-second incident out for hours, days, or weeks. Instead, it was over IN MY MIND in three minutes because I convinced myself it wasn’t worth my mental and emotional resources to keep it alive. Now, I know this example may seem silly, but let’s drive things home (in the correct lane, of course). Recently I heard a story about a woman who, upon FIRST MEETING SOMEONE told them she’d divorced her cheating husband and was absolutely in shambles because he’d fallen in love with her best friend. And whereas my therapist would say this woman had bad boundaries (because you don’t talk about your personal shit to total strangers), here’s the kicker–

all of this happened nineteen years ago.

Consequently, this woman’s body was right here, right now, but her spirit was stuck in the Clinton Administration.

This is what I mean by dragging things out and creating time. When I was with my ex there was a night I got a call from a friend who told me my ex was cheating. Deep down I knew it was true. Had I been willing to move as fast as my intuition (which, incidentally works in present time), to “change as fast as God,” it could have been over that night. I could have moved out the next day. Instead, because I didn’t want to face the truth (as is always the case when we create time), I was with him another five months. Now, I know it could have been worse–some people stay in bad situations for years, decades–but it was a miserable five months.

My aunt’s visiting from out of town this weekend, and earlier today we ended up talking about paper and clutter because we each tend to let things pile up before going through them. Anyway, she said, “I’ve read that the goal with paper is to handle it just once.” Like, you put it in its proper pile and move on with your life. Instead, most of us shuffle this here, shove that there. We say, “I’ll deal with it later.” Consequently, we drag things out and slow things down. We create time. What could be done in five seconds goes on five weeks, five years. And whereas it may not be a big deal to not deal with your TJ MAXX receipts, it is a big deal to not deal with your dramas, traumas, and relationships.

I once knew a grown woman who was absolutely petrified of dogs–any breed, any size. She could see one on a leash blocks away and start running like Florence Griffith Joyner. She never said what the deal was, so I can only assume something terrible happened when she was younger. Anyway, intuitive Robert Ohotto calls this sort of reaction “a time warp.” In other words, in present time there wasn’t a problem. Here’s a lady, there’s a dog a mile away. But in her past-oriented mind, it was a big damn deal. She would tremble. She would cry. This is why the master Jesus taught letting the dead bury the dead and giving no thought for tomorrow. Not because he was insensitive, but because there’s such a heavy price to pay for not being right here, right now.

This is why he taught forgiveness. Not because it’s a holy thing to do, but because it’s a powerful thing to do. Because it keeps you from being stuck in the past.

In the Clinton Administration.

According to Myss, the more we’re stuck or anchored in the past, the slower our life moves. “The more psychic WEIGHT you have,” she says, “the more you have to WAIT for anything [getting a new job, finding a lover, or healing] to happen.” In other words, the faster YOU change, the faster your LIFE will change. This sounds great, of course, but most of us prefer cooking our pot roasts at a slower, lower heat as opposed to a faster, hotter heat because–quite frankly–we can’t stand the heat. For one thing, most of society moves at–at best–a medium, lukewarm speed, and it’s never fun to outrun your friends and family. It’s lonely at the top and whatever. For another, most of us LIKE holding on to the past. We enjoy not forgiving.

Because we get to be right. We get to make other people feel guilty.

We get to flip total strangers the bird.

[FYI, the above pictures are of me and my friends Kate and Aaron and their son, the main connection to tonight’s blog being that they were taken tonight (when we all went out for Tacos). Although we didn’t plan it, we all wore denim jackets. This is one tie-in to creating time I considered writing about but didn’t because I want to go bed. That is, our wearing the same jackets is an example of a synchronicity, and, according to Myss, the more you live your life in present time, the more synchronicities will occur for you.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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Worth It (Blog #1000!)

Phew. Here we are. Blog #1000. We made it. I made it. Two years, eight months, and twenty-six days ago I began this journey honestly not knowing what I was doing or where I was going. And whereas I’m not sure I know now (does anyone ever know what they’re doing or where they’re going?), I’m nonetheless here with–as of yesterday–892,141 words more than I started with. Granted, not every word or every post has been brilliant. How could it be? And yet all together these words and posts have provided a container, a structure in which something brilliant has happened.

To be clear, I’m not referring to this body of work, this blog, as brilliant. Granted, I’m proud of it, but more and more I don’t have to label it. Recently I’ve watched a couple documentaries about The Sphinx, and one scholar dates it as old as 36,000 years. My point being that over the centuries countless numbers of people have looked upon this sculpture and issued their opinions about it. It’s magnificent, it’s glorious, it’s weird, it’s crap. Whatever. I’m sure those who built it had their thoughts about it too. It’s not good enough; we should probably redo that nose. Meanwhile, the creation itself has existed as it is, quietly knowing that our opinions are powerless to change art. Art, however, is more than capable of changing us if we let it.

This is the brilliant thing I’m referring to, the fact that somewhere in the midst of all these words and posts a glorious, necessary, and humbling transformation has taken place–mine. Now, I know this is a bold claim–look at me, I’m different!–but I’m just stating facts (and I’m not ASKING anyone to look). Even if I were, I could write until I’m blue in the face and not be able to PROVE to another soul that my soul is any different today than it was 1,000 days ago. But it is. Specifically, it has more of a voice in my decisions, my moods, and my relationships. Because I’m more in touch with it. THAT’S what this vessel has provided–a place for me to meet myself. Time and time again it’s given me a space–a virtual therapy office if you will–for me to be my own listening ear, my own compassionate shoulder to cry on, my own caring counselor.

For those of you who have in any way watched, supported, or shared this space and this journey of mine, I am deeply grateful. Truly the path to one’s self is often and by definition a lonely path, and yet–paradoxically–we never walk it completely alone. More and more I’m convinced: both here and “elsewhere,” we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Witnesses who happily cheer us on.

Transformation requires more than a charge card.

Perhaps one of the reasons the path to one’s self (the journey of personal growth, the way of spirituality, the royal road) is lonely is because so much of it is internal (where you are, where God is, and where other people aren’t) and not external (where the world is, where people are, and where stuff is). If it were external, it’d be easy to prove to other people how you’ve changed or transformed. This is how most of the world operates. We get a new car, house, or haircut and think that changes US. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Despite what the advertisers and marketers want us to think, it’s not that easy. Transformation requires more than a charge card. At best our outward changes affect others’ PERCEPTION of us, and–as you know, dear reader–the perception of others is a fickle mistress. One day someone approves of us and what we do, wear, and say, and the next day they don’t.

Where’d their approval go? we think.

Well, in the words of the warden in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, it “up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”

Tonight I concluded Christmas at a dear friend’s house, where we ate dinner, toasted each other, and exchanged gifts and stories. Y’all, more and more I believe that a good story is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, especially if it makes them laugh, comforts their heart, or challenges them to think in a new way. Well, my friend gave me such a gift tonight. They said they once hosted a large fundraiser, and the band for the event showed up–what’s the phrase?–high as a damn kite. And whereas most the musicians managed fine, the bass player either accidentally or on-purpose kept playing DIFFERENT songs than the rest of the band.

“I think he just didn’t give a shit,” my friend said.

Thankfully, the man (the genius) running the sound board turned off the bass player’s microphone, and no one in the audience ever knew the guy was completely stewed. My friend only knew because the sound technician put a pair of earphones on their head and said, “Hey, get this shit.”

Y’all, this is what this journey I’ve been discussing is about–turning DOWN the external voices in your life and turning UP the internal ones. In the last 1,000 days I’ve referred to these voices as your soul, your spirit, your highest self, your intuition, your guidance, your inner wisdom, your angels, God, the universe, the gods, and–I could go on. And whereas I don’t see all these terms as exactly the same, my point is–I just don’t think we’re alone here. Recently I had a friend comment, “I don’t believe in gods.” Fine. It has never been nor will it ever be my intention on this blog to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, least of all the higher mechanics of the cosmos. Changing someone else is NEVER the point of this work. Again and again and all day long until the cows come home, the point is changing oneself.

Transforming oneself.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means exactly that–that the forces we read about aren’t outside but inside us, that if you can’t read about Sisyphus eternally rolling a giant rock up a mountain or Jesus hanging on the cross and put YOURSELF there and thus relate the story to YOUR life, you’ve missed the point. (Every story is about you. What is in all is in one. What is in one is in all.) People externalize their gods, their beliefs. They say, “Jesus loves the little children. God hates fags.” No, they don’t. YOU do. How do I know? You’re the one who said it; you’re the one who did it. This is what personal responsibility and accountability are all about–realizing that you no longer get to blame someone else (God, your neighbor, or a book) for YOUR actions.

This sucks, I know.

There’s an idea in The Bible about not building your house upon the sandy land but rather building your house upon the rock, where, as a children’s song says, “the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know.” And whereas I do NOT intend this as preaching or evangelizing, I DO intend it as SYMBOLIZING.

I’ll explain.

Recently I’ve been obsessed with a song by Maren Morris called “The Bones.” It’s my flavor of the week. In essence the song is about a couple’s relationship, the idea being that when two people have a home with a solid foundation they can weather any storm. Getting back to the idea of symbolizing or being able to relate any story, mythology, or wisdom to one’s self, my thought has been that if I–if YOU–have a solid internal foundation, we can confidently navigate the trials and tribulations of life. This is the path I keep talking about, the path therapy and this blog have been such a huge part of for me, the building of an unshakable inner base. Y’all, I wish I could tell you that the right therapist, doctor, doctrine, or god can and will protect you from life’s hurts and heartaches, but alas, this is simply not the case. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is selling you snake oil. What is true, however, is that if you’ve done the inner work and have your priorities straight, you can best any challenge. Granted, life may bring you to your knees (it will), but as Morris says, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”

If the last thousand days have taught me anything, it’s that any time you spend building a solid foundation or working on your interior structure is time well spent. Every minute and every hour, as uncomfortable as it may be, is gold. (Did I forget to mention that being born again is unpleasant? Well, it is. Ask any screaming baby.) Likewise, any time you spend searching for, sharing, or living the truth will set you free. Not just sort of, but really. Granted, the truth may turn your world upside down (it will). Things may get worse before they get better (they will). But if a house doesn’t already POSSESS a solid foundation or structure, isn’t it best to tear it down and start from scratch in order to have something stable, something that will last? Don’t you want something real? I’ve spent almost six years in therapy, nearly three years blogging every day, and countless hours self-improving, and I’m telling you–it’s exhausting. But I’m talking about you here. Aren’t you worth all the effort?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Of all the broken things in your life, you’re not one of them–and you never have been.

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Written in the Stars (Blog #999)

Today’s blog is #999 in a row, and I can’t tell you how excited I am about it. For one thing, I’m one post away from 1,000. (Two including this one.) For another, it’s Christmas Eve. For another, my favorite number is 9, so this blog seems–I don’t know–sacred or something. Maybe I should call it The Holy Trinity of Nines. Regardless, although it’s just one in the grand scheme of things, it feels special.

Okay, hang on, I know what it is.

999 days ago I started this project, and at some point decided I wanted to write for at least a thousand consecutive days. (Later I upped the goal to every day for three years, which is an additional three months, but I’m considering anything after tomorrow “a bonus post.”) Anyway, for 999 days in a row I’ve written. Even when I’ve been dog tired, sick with a sinus infection, miserable with a headache, or burning up with the flu. Even on the day I was in a car accident. Even after I tore my ACL. My point being that–to be clear–there have been hundreds of days I didn’t WANT to blog or spill my guts on the internet. Hundreds of days I didn’t know if I had it in me. Because God knows I’ve set goals before and didn’t stick with them. Yes, I know what I’m feeling.

I’m feeling like–WOW–I’m going to make it.

Earlier today I heard Caroline Myss say that if you want to heal or improve your life in some way, JUST DO SOMETHING CONSISTENTLY. It doesn’t have to be complicated, she said. Stop wearing your least favorite color–forever. Go for a fifteen minute walk–every day. Her point being that any action consistently taken (read: any discipline) will force you to confront not only your saboteur, but also every other part of you that doesn’t want to heal, grow up, and change. Like your inner child (who will throw tantrums), your perfectionist (who will insist whatever you’re doing isn’t good enough), and your control freak (who will want to manage how others perceive you and your project), to name a few.

Notice that addictions, which are also consistent actions and address our inner need for congruency, likewise address these points. However, they do so unconsciously, not consciously.

In my experience with this blog, this wisdom about consistency is spot on. Indeed, many of the categories or themes that have developed here, I believe, are ones that any person undertaking a regular discipline will encounter. Things like balance, boundaries, patience, self-acceptance, and transformation. Take balance and boundaries, for example. Earlier tonight some friends had me over for dinner and invited me to stay late to watch a movie while they stuffed stockings for their kiddos. And whereas I would have loved to have lingered and continued to stuff my face with Fritos and cheese dip, I knew I had this blog to tend to.

So I said, “Thank you, but I can’t.”

This is what I’d recommend to anyone working on a goal–make no exceptions. Now, I’m not talking about your typical goals. I want to lose fifteen pounds or whatever. Especially if all you want to do is stop eating cheesecake. In that case, have a cheat day. But if the real point of your goal is deal with your crap, get in touch with your soul and spirit, and find out what you’re really made of, THEN I suggest making no exceptions. Then I suggest being an absolute hard ass with yourself.

If you do decide to be a hard ass with yourself–about anything–my guess is you’ll uncover a part of yourself you didn’t know was there before. Personally, blogging every day, every damn day has taught me that not only am I stronger and braver than I realized, but I’m also more honest and open-hearted than I realized. Since I started this project, a number of people have said, “I could never be that honest, especially on the internet.” Even my therapist has said, “You’ve clearly got really big balls.” And whereas I don’t know about all that, I do know that if I can be strong and brave and honest and open-hearted, anyone can. Because it’s not THAT hard. Yes, it’s hard. It’s scary and terrifying and exhausting and hard.

But it’s not THAT hard.

What I mean is that it’s not impossible. Whatever it is you’re scared of–and anything you’re scared of counts, even if other people don’t think it’s a big deal–humans have been facing their fears and slaying their dragons for centuries. My point being that you’re not alone. Knowing this–that it’s POSSIBLE to transform yourself for the better through the practice of a consistent discipline–the question becomes, why wouldn’t you? A thousand days ago I would have pulled out my favorite excuses. I can’t. I’m not good enough. I’ll fail. I’ll embarrass myself. Someone else is already doing it better. But having come this far, I now know these are just lies, stories. So if the answer to “Why won’t you do something to improve your life?” is that you simply like the stories you tell yourself about who you are and what you’re not capable of, fine. That in itself is some level of honesty. But don’t expect me to believe your excuses just because you do.

Because I know from experience–all of us are capable of WAY MORE than we think we are.

This is one of the greatest gifts my therapist has given me–she’s staunchly refused to believe my excuses. No matter how many times I’ve campaigned for them, she’s never voted for my limitations. Now, she’s honest. “You’re almost forty,” she says. “I don’t think you should be an Olympic gymnast.” Still, within reason, she’s never stopped rooting for me. With respect to my talents, career, and relationships, she’s always been in my corner. The result being that–between her and this discipline–I’ve gotten back something I didn’t know I’d lost–myself.

Also, I’ve learned how to hope again.

Last year for the Winter Solstice I blogged about how, from the Summer Solstice until the Winter Solstice, the sun rises and sets more and more toward the south in the northern hemisphere. (This is the cause of our progressively shorter days from late June to late December). However, for three days, from December 22 (the typical date of the Winter Solstice) until December 25, the sun appears to stop moving toward the south OR the north. To the ancients, this was terrifying because they thought the sun had died.

Don’t worry. The good news is coming.

On December 24 at midnight (ish)–and you can check this for yourself–you can follow the three stars in Orion’s Belt (sometimes referred to as The Three Kings) to Sirius (the brightest star in the sky), and they’ll point the way the eastern horizon. There you’ll find Virgo, The Virgin. (See above.) Overhead you’ll find The Beehive Cluster (not labeled), sometimes referred to as The Manger. Next to it, Cancer, whose two brightest stars are often called The Two Asses. Six hours later, The Manger and The Two Asses will be on the western horizon, The Virgin will be straight overhead, and the sun will be rising not just on the eastern horizon, but also toward the north. (See below.)

Hooray! The sun didn’t die.

For as long as we can remember, men and women have feared. We’ve watched our days get shorter and shorter and felt our nights get colder and colder. We’ve thought, We can’t do this. We’re not going to make it. Our hope is gone. And yet we’ve consistently persisted. We’ve kept at it, hung on. And time and time again, right out of our darkest night, the light has reappeared. The light reappears. From Christmas until the Summer Solstice, our days get longer and longer, brighter and brighter. This is a universal law. It’s written in the stars. Just when we least expect it, things start to turn around. Life comes flooding back. Letting out a sigh, we think, I’m going make it.

Just like that, our hope is reborn.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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The Results (Blog #998)

Today is blog #998 in a row, it’s two days before Christmas, and I don’t know where to start. I wish I had something profound to say. The closer I get to 1,000 blogs, the more I feel like I should. This has been a huge project–it’s changed my life–and all I can think to utter is, “Thank you for being here, I’m going to bed now.” Bed–that’s where I wish I were right this minute. Well, okay, fine, I am, but I wish I were asleep. I’ve been fighting a headache for several hours; the last thing I want to do is think and attempt to be pleasant.

Alas, I’ll going to try.

Getting back to the idea of reaching 1,000 blogs, I keep imaging something big should happen when I do. Fireworks, a parade, an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Something. More than likely, the day will come and go without fanfare. In the grand scheme of things, my 1,000th blog will “only” be one of a thousand. Granted, there will be parties, gift-giving, and plenty of celebrating, but these things will be for Jesus, not Marcus Coker. And whereas I’m not above stealing a little limelight, something tells me to let the lord have this one. It is, after all, his birthday, and it’s just one day a year.

Although to be fair, Jesus gets Easter too. The whole Holy Week if we’re being technical.

This afternoon I taught a dance lesson. And whereas the couple’s been progressing slowly, things are starting to come together. This evening I drove all the way to Fort Smith to look for a particular book I’m almost a hundred percent certain I saw at a thrift store last week, but when I got to the store it was closed for the lord’s birthday. (Some people like to drag their celebrations out). Anyway, the project I wanted the book for will simply have to wait. My point being that just like the couple I’m teaching will learn when they learn, I’ll get the book when I get it. Things happen when they happen.

Or they don’t happen at all.

More and more, I’m learning to trust the timing of things. Earlier today I was thinking about some of the most influential people in my life–my mentors–and how I came to meet them. And whereas I won’t go into all the details, suffice it to say that with each person there was a whole series of random events and connections that caused our paths to cross, things I could have never planned. For example, I had to go through hell before I found my therapist through the recommendation of a counselor friend of mine. Once I met my therapist, I thought, I should have done this sooner. And yet had I asked my counselor friend for a recommendation even a year earlier, I’m sure they would have suggested someone else–because they’d only recently met my therapist. Indeed, they originally did recommend someone else, but that person was full. At the time, I was disappointed. What if I’m missing out? I thought.

But then I met my therapist and knew–I’m right where I need to be.

It’s easy for me to look at the significant relationships in my life and think they didn’t happen by accident. But more and more I think little does. When I think of how I met and stayed in touch with my friend who recommended my therapist–wow–we’re talking about relationships that go back over thirty years, relationships that started before I was born (because my parents are–obviously–involved in this whole setup). We’re talking about me having to be in a certain place at a certain time in order to say hello to a family acquaintance I barely knew so that we could become friends and they could introduce me to their friend who eventually recommended my therapist and so on. Plus all the things that had to happen to get my therapist in the same professional circles as my friend.

Seriously, when I think about it, it boggles my mind.

What boggles my mind even more is that this sort of cosmic dancing goes on constantly. This morning I spilled a bottle full of pills and was three minutes late to a doctor’s appointment. Who knows why? Maybe I avoided an accident. Or maybe I just HAD to be part of that conversation my doctor’s secretary started with the few of us in the waiting room about what to get her male relatives for Christmas and that wouldn’t have happened three minutes earlier. I mean, I’ve been the beneficiary of someone else’s recommendation before, so who’s to say someone else can’t benefit from mine? That’s the deal on this planet. Sometimes angels are sent to you; sometimes you’re the angel that’s sent to others.

Now, you might think your two cents can’t make a difference in someone else’s life, but you’d be mistaken. Remember the widow’s mite. Remember the mustard seed. Remember God works in mysterious ways.

When I started this blog nearly 1,000 days ago, I had lots of hopes and dreams for it. I still do. But the difference between then and now is that more and more I’ve given up trying to control the whole damn thing–who reads it, what they get out of it, what they offer me in return. Like, a praise, a criticism. (So far no one’s offered to sleep with me. Kids, go to medical school. Bloggers don’t get laid. Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be writers.) But seriously, it’s precisely BECAUSE of the mysterious intricacies of life–this had to happen and this had to happen, or this couldn’t have happened–that I’ve come to the conclusion that even everyday accidents and encounters–a spilled bottle of pills, the choice to say hello, who reads my blog and what they do with it–are laced with magic and grace.

Even if we don’t see it.

Especially if we don’t see it.

Getting back to the idea that I think something big (the appearance of the Blessed Mother) should happen when I hit 1,000 blog posts, I’d like to be clear that this is purely egoic and runs counter to the traditional story of Christmas. That is, Jesus was born in a manger–with little fanfare. This is how the divine works–not by pulling up in a Mercedes Benz (or on a Mercedes Benz camel) and rolling out the red carpet for itself, but by slipping in the backdoor unnoticed. My point being that we may look at our lives and think nothing is happening. And yet all the while the gods are at work behind the scenes, setting this up, working that out. More perfectly than we ever could. This doesn’t mean we don’t have to play our part, of course. It simply means that the more we listen to our hearts and act from our souls, the less we have to worry about the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

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Swing Sets Still to Play On (Blog #997)

This afternoon I met some friends at a Christmas drop-in party and–quite frankly–stuffed my face with Fritos and ranch dip. My rationalization being 1) I only had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and 2) it’s the holidays. What, like I’m going let the birth of our Lord and Savior come and go without celebrating with guacamole? (I would never.) Plus, I didn’t know at the time that my friends were going to invite me out for pizza immediately after I finished my second helping of cheddar cheese cubes.

And that I would accept and eat four pieces of pizza.

While we were out to eat, my friend Aaron, who’s a graphic designer, drew a logo of sorts (pictured up top) for Me and My Therapist (the blog, not the people). I can’t tell you how excited I was. Granted, it may have been the coffee I was drinking, but still. “It’s my first fan art!” I said. Then I added, “That only took 997 days.”

When we left the restaurant, Aaron, his wife Kate, their son, and I went to a local park to look at lights and ride the train. (The park has a kid-sized choo-choo, but adults can ride too, provided they’re okay with having their knees tucked into their chins.) Unfortunately, the train wasn’t running tonight. And whereas his son didn’t seem to care (he’s four), Aaron said, “I’m disappointed. These are horrible holiday hours!”

Regrouping, we looked at lights and played on the swing set. Y’all, you should have seen their son. He was RIDICULOUSLY happy. I kept thinking, We make it so complicated, but joy really is a simple thing. A natural thing. Granted, two minutes earlier the kid was screaming bloody murder over not wanting to wear his toboggan, but maybe there’s a lesson there too. Something bothering you? Pitch a fit. Get it over with. Then move on with your life. Never speak of it again. Instead, find something to be happy about.

A swing set, maybe.

When we left the park, the four of us went back to Aaron and Kate’s house for “hot chocky,” also known as hot chocolate. This is one thing I love about having friends with a four year old. Everything’s a game. The world is new and exciting. “I’m going to take a bath!” my little friend said. “Then I’m going to put on my pajamas!” This is what I’m talking about. Making the ordinary extraordinary.

When we were at the park Aaron stepped in dog crap, and–because Aaron and Kate said their house was a no dookie zone–their son made up a song about it–“No Dookie House.” Well, the next thing I knew, Aaron, his son, and I were doing a Facebook Live video in which we all sang the song. (If you’d like to sing along, the words are “no dookie house, no dookie house, no dookie house.”) Talk about turning lemons into lemonade.

This is the power of perspective.

Kate said my blog tonight should be titled NO DOOKIE HOUSE or DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, which is what the side of her son’s hot chocolate mug said tonight. The joke being the mug had a picture of the Morton Salt Girl on it along with that saying. (Don’t worry, Focus on the Family, the kid can’t read yet.) And whereas I haven’t decided WHAT I’m going to call the blog tonight (that’s one of the last things I do), I think either would be appropriate. Like, for NO DOOKIE HOUSE, don’t bring crap that belongs outside your home inside. I’m speaking of both your physical home and your emotional home (your heart). Have some boundaries. Give yourself the luxury of a drama-free zone.

For DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, I’d say, “Don’t be a salty bitch–all the time.” Because, let’s face it, a little saltiness, a little flavor, never hurt anyone. This being said, we all know people who abuse the privilege, people who bitch and moan and gripe and complain and simply refuse to be satisfied no matter what. To say the least, this is unfortunate. Yes, life is hard. Sometimes we step in shit and then step in shit again. I’m not suggesting you be happy about your challenges. But I am suggesting that whatever is under your skin does’t have to stay there until you die. No matter what’s happened to you, you don’t have to go through life bitter and angry and jealous. You’re allowed to let go, to move on, to forgive. Not for anyone else, but for you. I highly suggest you do this–whatever it takes. Because you only have one life, and there are swing sets still to play on.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Miracles happen."

On Internal Versus External Validation (Blog #996)

Last night my throat started tickling, and today I woke up sick. Sinus troubles strike again. Talk about a bummer. I’ve felt like half a bag (but not a full bag) of ass all day. This being said, it’s still been a fun a productive Winter Solstice (the darkest day of the year). This morning I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holidays with her son and grandchildren. Then when I got home, despite my intention to blog and “get it over with” and in an effort to listen to my body, I took a nap. Then I went out to eat with my friends Aaron and Kate and Justin and Ashley (our waiter joined us for the above photo) to celebrate my upcoming 1,000th blog post in a row, which–God willing and the creek don’t rise–will happen on Christmas day.

And no, I didn’t plan that on March 31, 2017, when I made my first post. I’m good at math but not THAT good.

Once I read that any meditation you do consistently for 1,000 days will positively affect your subtle body, your subtle body consisting of your chakras. And whereas I don’t know if this is true (and if it is true it’d be difficult to prove because the changes would be subtle), I do know that almost 1,000 days of blogging has transformed me for the better. This is something I could go on and on about (and have), but suffice it to say that not only has my writing improved (which was the original goal), but so has my relationship with myself (and therefore with others).

Along these lines, one thing my therapist and I have discussed is seeking internal validation versus external validation. With internal validation, you say, “Even if nobody else gets it or cares, I know who I am.” You say, “I’m a damn fine dance teacher and an excellent writer. I’m hot. I’m good in the sack.” Or whatever. You say, “I like myself–warts and all.” Conversely, with external validation, you look to others and their responses to tell you who you are. Depending on whether they praise you, criticize you, laugh at your jokes, or laugh at you, your ego either soars or flops. A look from a total stranger makes you or breaks you. You want everyone else’s approval, and you’ll do anything to get it.

Everyone else’s puppet, one day you’re up, the next day you’re down.

This is one of the biggest positive changes I’ve experienced since starting therapy and this blog–the shift from external validation (from being a people pleaser) to internal validation (to being a me pleaser). Not that it’s all about me, me, me (although, granted, I do have a blog with me in the title), but it is about listening to my internal guidance and the voice of my soul over the opinions of others. This includes the opinions of my family, my friends, my acquaintances, total strangers, pretty boys, and–yes–even my therapist. Of course, I try to listen to what others have to say. Hell, I pay my therapist for her opinions. But ultimately I’m the one who decides what’s best for me because this is my life and I’m the one responsible for it.

Likewise, I’m the one responsible for my happiness. Others are welcome to disagree with my viewpoints and philosophies, tell me I’m a rotten dancer or human being, and tell me to fuck off, Jack. And sure, I might be upset by these things. But give me some time–enough time to write a blog post–and I’ll be fine. Because nobody–but nobody–gets to tell ME how to feel about ME.

Nobody–but nobody–gets to tell YOU how to feel about YOU.

One both subtle and not-so-subtle change that’s occurred over the last 996 days is that more and more external EVENTS aren’t able to tell me how I feel about myself either. What I mean is that I used to feel a lot of pride and self-worth if I looked good, felt good, and had money. On the flip side, I’d feel a lot of shame and embarrassment if I looked not-so-good, felt like a bag of ass, and didn’t have money. When I was sick I’d feel less than, inferior to healthy people, to doctors. When I couldn’t pay for things, to people who could. And not that I don’t have these thoughts anymore, but having made a consistent effort to connect with my own good heart on a regular basis, I now have these thoughts in their proper perspective.

You know how you can hold your hands close to a lightbulb and create a large shadow on the wall? And you know how you can move your hands away from the lightbulb and the shadow will get smaller? This is what I mean by proper perspective. It’s not that the opinions of others, your own health and wellbeing, and your finances don’t make a difference. They do. No one is immune to criticism, it sucks, sucks, sucks to be sick, and groceries don’t buy themselves. Our challenges create shadows on the wall.

How big, however, is up to us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Help is always on the way.

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How to Navigate Relationships (Blog #995)

This morning I woke up early to rifle through used books at a thrift store. And whereas I was super tired, I scored nineteen beautifully covered books (I’m using their covers for craft projects) for only a dollar a piece. Talk about a bargain. When I got home I set two books aside I decided to keep (one for me, one for a friend), then removed the covers from the other seventeen with a razor blade. Wouldn’t you know it? After all the work was done and I set the blade down, my left hand slipped off one of the books onto the blade and I cut my middle finger. Y’all, I started bleeding like a stuck pig. The worst part about it? I did the same thing yesterday to my ring finger.

“Did I never teach you how to use sharp objects?” my dad said.

“No,” I replied, holding up my Bandaid-covered hand. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yesterday I bought three pieces of costume jewelry for two dollars. When I got them home, however, I noticed they were all missing jewels. Tossing them away I thought, Fool me once. This afternoon I used glitter spray paint on a picture frame but didn’t let it dry long enough. Now there’s an indentation where my hand was. Next time, sweetheart, be patient, I told myself. Don’t jump the gun. My point being in all these situations–no matter how old you get, there’s always more to learn. Especially with any new endeavor or undertaking (and I may NEED an undertakER if I keep slicing myself open), there’s always room for improvement.

Knowing that we don’t–can’t–know everything should keep us humble.

One of the books I dismantled for its cover was Extraordinary Lives by American Express. That’s right, the credit card company. Anyway, best I could tell by thumbing through it, the book was a collection of inspirational stories paired with original artwork and well-laid-out quotes from the book’s various storytellers. And whereas I didn’t read any of the stories, I did cut out several of the quotes I thought were worth taking in. Things like, “You didn’t have arguments and problems and lawsuits with patients. You had relationships.” And, “You can’t have everything you want. You’re not going to get the other side to commit suicide.”

For me, the two quotes I just mentioned are tied together. That is, only if a relationship goes sour will you have (major, lawsuit-like) problems, and only if those problems get way out of hand will you want the other side to cease existing. Tonight I attended a Christmas party, and one my friends pointed out that relationships most always go sour when we ignore red flags. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of looking back and thinking, I knew Phil was a cheater all along. I knew Sally was a kleptomaniac. Fine China doesn’t just up and walk away on its own.

“Why do we ignore red flags,” my friend said? “Because we have an agenda with someone. Because we want something from them.”

Ugh. Is this the truth or what? I’ve ignored my intuition with overbearing friends because I wanted to be perceived as “nice.” I’ve ignored it with inappropriate clients because I wanted their money. I’ve ignored it with love interests because I didn’t want to be alone. But more and more I’d rather be “rude” (or rather perceived as rude), broke, and alone than spend time with someone who isn’t a good match for me. And let’s face it–if they’re not a match for me, I’m not a match for them, so I’m doing both of us a favor. Along these lines, my therapist says that when you’re honest with someone–like, this just isn’t working for me–you not only give them permission to be honest, but you also free up both of your time and attention for others who ARE a match for you.

At one point today I had someone preface something they were about to tell me by saying, “I know you won’t tell anybody.” And whereas I haven’t always zipped my lips when someone asked me to in the past, I’m getting better at it. Like, I’m NOT talking about it on the internet. Or at all. I mean, if someone confides in me, that means they TRUST me, and that’s huge. Because trust takes years to build up.

But only a moment to shatter.

To the party tonight I wore a bow tie that was recently gifted to my by my friend Lydia (who won it as a door prize at a dance we attended together) and a brass brooch in the shape of two flowers–mums. As in, MUM’S THE WORD. I didn’t plan this coincidence (being asked to keep a confidence / mum’s the word) when I picked out my outfit and accessories, it just happened. In psycho-spiritual speak, it was a synchronicity, an divinely orchestrated opportunity for me to really think about the quality of my relationships, what they’re built on (trust), and how I can work to maintain them (as Elaine on Seinfeld would say, lock box).

My therapist says “mum’s the word” is almost always a good idea in relationships–and not just with respect to keeping secrets. For example, my friends and I used to process a lot together, use each other as therapists. There’s nothing inherently wrong with doing this, but things can get pretty heavy pretty quick. This is why my therapist suggests zipping my lips or not processing so much with others. “Friends are for fun,” she says. “If it’s something deep and heavy, something you’d put on the THE LIST, talk to me about it. Aren’t you paying me to listen?” These are things I continue to work on–what to talk about, what not to talk about, how to navigate relationships. And whereas I don’t always get it right–with friends or with razor blades–I’m learning.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is better when we're not in control. When we mentally leave room for anything to happen, anything can.

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The Door Is Shut Now (Blog #992)

This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, my upper cervical care doctor who’s helping me “get my head on straight.” The idea being that when your atlas vertebrae, which supports your head, sits right, good health is most likely to follow. Conversely, when it doesn’t sit right, it can put pressure on your brainstem and cause all sorts of problems (because your brainstem and nervous system directly affect or influence almost everything in your body). All this to say that today my doctor determined (through the use of a handy dandy device that looks like Batman’s ray gun) that my nervous system was working fine on its own and, therefore, I didn’t need an adjustment this week.

Honestly, this was a little disappointing because I’ve had such good results with the last few adjustments. Plus, the last few days my head has hurt, my back has ached. But my doctor said, “That’s normal. Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s more like a wiggly line, full of ups and downs. Be patient. People normally hit the sweet spot around the two to four month mark. People think the adjustment is what heals them, but that’s not it–it’s your body. Give it time.”

“So just tough out the pain until my body decides to fix the problem?” I said.

“Yep,” he smiled. “That’s what you’ve been doing all this time anyway, right?”

I laughed. “Right.”

“Don’t be discouraged,” he said. “We’re fighting a long history of problems.”

Boy, did he say a mouthful or what? So often along the path of healing, in all its many forms, I’ve wanted instant results. Then, upon not getting them, I’ve gotten depressed, convinced that the universe in all its wonder doesn’t have an answer to my problem. Or worse, it doesn’t care. But the truth is the universe does care (a lot) and does have an answer. However, sometimes the answer we’re looking for doesn’t come fast precisely because of our long history of problems and, in many cases, because of our self-neglect. Think of it this way. The longer you go without cleaning your house, the longer it’s going to take to clean it. The more baggage you have, the longer it’s going to take to move somewhere.

This truth applies to your house, your body, your mind and emotions, and your relationships. At times I get frustrated with people in my life (who doesn’t?), but usually by the time my lid’s about to pop over something “big,” it’s only because I’ve let so many small things go without addressing them. Without addressing the relationship. Whenever this occurs, I remind myself to slow down, to breathe. I remind myself we’re ALL fighting a long history of problems. The last two days I’ve mentioned a YouTube commenter who read me the riot act for counting Rumba incorrectly (according to them), and this idea applies to people like him too. Like, I want him to straighten up and fly right, but–let’s get real–that’s probably not going to happen because he’s had an entire lifetime to become who he is.

Not that people can’t change. They can. But it takes time. And they don’t do it just because I (or you) want them to.

My therapist would add, “They have to really desire it. And they have to work their ass off.”

Which reminds me of a joke my aunt told me once. How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Only one, but the lightbulb has to really WANT to change.

I keep going back to this YouTube commenter not because it’s really a big deal to me, but because it represents things that are big deals. You know how we all have things we can’t get over. Like, I live with my parents, and they do things that drive me absolutely crazy. Things I can’t stand. Things I’ll probably miss when they’re gone (but not a minute sooner). And yes, I’m sure I do things that make them go bananas too. And then we all have THE BIG THINGS. The real dramas and traumas in our lives that really are difficult to let go of–a long history of problems–but that really NEED to be let go of. Because you can’t live your life collecting problems and baggage and expect to be happy.

What can you expect, Marcus?

Misery.

So I’ll say it again and again. It’s worth your time to clean things up.

In yesterday’s selfie I apparently left my bedroom door slightly open. Well, the damndest thing, earlier when I looked at the photo (I always look at yesterday’s post before I start today’s so I know what number I’m on), I thought, Crap, my door’s open, and immediately started out of my chair to close it. Even now when I look at the photo above (I’ve included it again for your convenience), I glance up at my actual door and am amazed that it’s shut. I think, Phew, it’s closed. But then I look at the picture again and think, Wait, it’s open. This is the power of an image, whether it’s a actual photo or a memory in your head. It’s seems real but it’s not.

What is real then?

Whatever’s right here, right now. For me, it’s a chair, a laptop, and a closed door. For you, maybe it’s an open door.

The problem with images, including memories, appearing real is that we get hung up on them. We tell our friends, “Some guy on YouTube said this shitty thing to me. My parents did this. My lover did that. The door is open.” A wise person will point out that everything is in the past and there’s no use wasting your present, vital life force keeping your past–your long history of problems–alive by holding on and looking backwards instead of forwards. “Look,” they’ll say, “the door is shut.”

“But it WAS open,” you’ll insist. “And this guy really did say something shitty. And these terrible things really did happen.”

“I know, sweetheart,” they’ll reply, “and the door is shut now.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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When a Pickpocket Meets a Saint (Blog #991)

There’s an idea in self-help and spirituality that we repeat things over and over again until we get the point of them, until we learn the lesson. You know how some people, maybe you, always end up falling for the same kind of lovers. Emotionally unavailable assholes, let’s say. Or maybe you’re constantly being shit on at work–and it’s been like that for twenty years. One way of describing this situation is “same drama, different actors,” and I think it’s worth taking a look at. Because if you can’t step out of the hamster wheel of your life and analyze it archetypally (non-personally), chances are you’ll keep getting more of the same.

My chiropractor who works with emotions and the body and I talk about this a lot. I saw him today, and we worked through a recent situation in which my reaction was, “Fine, damn it, I’ll do it,” even though someone else really should have. Like, it was their responsibility. Well, this feeling of taking on more than I really should goes back a long way. When I was a child my mom was sick quite a bit. When I was a teenager my dad was in prison. Long story short, I had to grow up fast. Looking back, I can see I wasn’t very happy about it and didn’t know how to express my frustration. But with respect to the same-drama conversation, what’s important to note is that although all the stories I’ve mentioned tonight were different on the outside, they were the same for me on the inside.

Recently I’ve been taking the covers off old books in order to use them for art projects, and yesterday I noticed a line on the first page of a book (I can’t remember which one) that said, “‘Every morning,’ he said, ‘every morning it’s the same damn thing!'” This is what I’m talking about emotionally, repeating the same feelings, the same roles (the runt, the slave, the misunderstood one) day after day after day. This is where my therapist and my emotionally intelligent chiropractor have been invaluable. They’ve helped me spot UNPRODUCTIVE PATTERNS so that I can do something about them. Because that’s the deal–it’s really hard to see your own routine. Sometimes you’re just too close to your own life to get what’s really going on. But someone else can take one look and say, “Girl, you’re stuck in a hamster wheel.”

Having had the help of wise counselors for years now, it’s getting easier and easier for me to spot my own unproductive patterns. For example, I’ve learned that I’m chronically attracted to a certain type that’s fundamentally not good for me. So whenever I feel myself going down the rabbit hole again, I stop and say, “Hold it right there, Mister. Stop in the name of love. We know how this is going to end, and it’s not good.” Then I do something else (or someone else). Another thing I’ve found helpful is to note whenever I catch myself saying, “Well, if it were anybody else, I’d tell them to do this (dump him, run the other way, go to a doctor).” Then I drop all my excuses and take my own advice. Because that’s my inner wisdom talking, and it shouldn’t matter if it’s someone else, or me, or the President. A problem is a problem is a problem, and good advice is good advice is good advice.

This evening I went thrift shopping and bought a few hardback books for their covers. Well, the total was $5.56, but I only had $5.25 in my pocket. “I’ll be right back,” I told the girl behind the counter. “I just need to get my change from the car.” Well, I came back with 26 cents, which, as the girl quickly pointed out, was 5 cents short.

So back to my car I went.

For a moment I thought, She must think I’m really dumb. Then I thought about how I won all sorts of math awards in junior high and high school, and how maybe I should tell her about them. Like, I really do know how to add. I won the Math-A-Thon! I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Then I thought, You don’t have to explain yourself to a high school student who works at Goodwill, Marcus.

So I gave her the damn nickel, picked up my books, and left.

There’s a saying I think about a lot but have never shared on this blog. It goes, “When a pickpocket meets a saint, he sees only his pockets.” To me this means that we don’t perceive others and the world as THEY are, but as WE are. Like, I could be the nicest guy and a really good mathematician, and if some tween at Goodwill thinks I’m stupid, she thinks I’m stupid. Now, does she? We’d have to ask her. Chances are, unlike me, she’s forgotten the whole interaction. Or maybe she hasn’t. Maybe she’s fallen in love with me and is currently at home stalking my Facebook and being disappointed by the fact that I don’t date girls. My point being that–either way–her reactions have little to do with me and everything to do with her. Yesterday I mentioned that someone bitched me out on YouTube for (in their opinion) counting Rumba incorrectly, and–same thing. This unfortunate commenter didn’t see ME, he only saw some ignorant dance teacher from Arkansas. A figment of his imagination.

And yes, it hasn’t escaped me that my not being able to count has apparently become a theme. Same drama, different players.

You’re never as stuck as you think you are.

For me another takeaway of the pickpocket/saint saying is to TRY to see people neutrally. Tonight I looked at the girl at Goodwill and thought, I know nothing about who this person is or what her life is like, and I certainly don’t know what she’s thinking. So often we assume we know what’s going on in someone else’s life or head and end up separating from rather than connecting with them. But seeing someone neutrally opens a door for grace to walk through. Likewise, seeing yourself neutrally (archetypally, impersonally) opens a door for grace to walk through. Because when you unplug from your own drama, your own story about your life, you have the thought that perhaps things could be different. And they could. You’re never as stuck as you think you are. In life, there’s always space to rewrite your script.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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On How to Frame Your Past (Blog #987)

This afternoon I went antique shopping for several hours. And whereas I didn’t buy much, just one thing, I did have fun looking. As I said yesterday, the world is full of pretty objects. Okay, okay, enough suspense. I’ll tell you what I bought. My solitary purchase was a small golden frame for the bargain price of a dollar.

“One dollar even,” the lady said.

Y’all, even as I was walking the frame to the car, I had little idea what I was going to do with it. I thought, Maybe I can add it to my magnet board, use it to accentuate part of my collection. Then as the day went on I thought, Or I could use it as God intended and put a photo in it. Well, when I got the frame home I realized it didn’t have glass in it. So then I thought I could either buy a piece of glass for it or just use it as-is to frame a three-dimensional object. Either way, I thought, before I do anything else I’ve got to get this warped cardboard off the back and take an iron too it. So that’s what I did. And whereas I thought, I’m tearing this thing apart, I also thought, It’s only a dollar.

While ironing the cardboard backing, I thought that I COULD paint the golden frame purple. Then I set that thought aside to search through my closets in hopes of finding a picture, toy, or statue to fit inside the frame. Y’all, I tried everything–a plastic dinosaur, pictures I’ve torn out of magazines, a small statue of Jesus. Alas, nothing worked and I quickly ran out of options. This is the one of the downsides to not owning much; it limits your creative options. Every hoarder thinks, I may need that one day, and every minimalist sooner or later thinks, Crap, I could have used that. But if you don’t have it, you don’t have it.

At which point you’re forced to be more creative.

Eventually I started toying around with the frame and a brooch I bought yesterday–a golden leaf. First I put the brooch inside the frame on the warped (and worn) cardboard, then I replaced the cardboard with a book whose cover (which is a delightful shade of blue) I absolutely love.

Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

Because I didn’t and don’t want to butcher my book for this project, I started going through the books my family has set aside for an upcoming yard sale. And whereas I couldn’t find any of them that were as pretty in terms of color or texture as my blue book, I did find some interesting options. For example, the text on the front of a black John le Carre book just happened to be written in gold, so all the elements–the text, the brooch, the frame–tied together nicely.

Completely different than the blue-book option.

Lastly I tried ANOTHER blue book (I have a lot of blue books), a darker, non-canvas one. And whereas I didn’t and don’t like it as much, I’m including it here to 1) illustrate the creative process, 2) demonstrate that all blues are not created equal, 3) present an option with the leaf turned at a different angle, and 4) show that details make a difference.

Ultimately, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my one-dollar frame. Chances are I’ll hit up a used book store to continue to explore cheap backdrop options. Then I’ll play around with temporary versus permanent ways to mount my brooch or, if I decide I’d rather wear it, mount something else inside the frame instead. Then I’ll figure out how to hang the whole thing on the wall. Or on the ceiling. Hell, I may put it in the bathroom above the toilet paper holder. Wouldn’t that be something?

My point: this could go down a number of ways.

Often I talk about the importance of perspective, and what I mean is that to a large extent the joy or suffering you experience is based on how you see things. For example, I’ve had a lot of shitty things happen over the years (who hasn’t?), and they used to cause me a lot of pain–because I was embarrassed by them, because I was afraid I couldn’t handle myself, because I thought life wasn’t fair. In short, I SAW myself as a victim, a pawn in the game of life, someone without any power. And whereas all these perspectives are true on one level, on another they simply aren’t. That is, the more I’ve explored my depths and connected with my soul, I’ve come to see that every challenge and shitty circumstance has been absolutely necessary. They’ve made me stronger. They’ve pushed me to learn. They’ve taught me endurance, patience, and compassion.

Simply put, I used to think all those horrible things had taken my life from me. Now I see they actually gave it to me.

For me self-help books and spiritual teachers have been immensely valuable in providing perspective. They’ve taught me I’m not alone in my experiences or thoughts or emotions about them. Likewise, my therapist has also been immensely valuable. Whenever I’m hard on myself or another, she offers a more compassionate viewpoint. Sometimes we work a topic over and over again until it feels right, until there’s peace. This is the deal with your life, your past. You think it’s set in stone, and maybe the facts are. (Whatever shitty things happened to you, I’m sorry. All the therapy, drugs, and gurus in the world can’t change it. I wish they could.) But like my dollar-frame project tonight, your perspective about your past and what it means is WAY flexible. That is, you can set it against a dark background (my life has been torn apart), or a light one (my life is coming together).

This is my advice: take the facts of your life and turn them upside down, twist them this way and that until they look right, until you have them just so. Frame your past in the best way possible. Don’t lie to yourself about what happened. Instead, get brutally honest. Cry and scream. Then move on. Forgive. Tell yourself, Whatever happened was absolutely necessary. Yes, it was difficult, but it made me the glorious being I am today. In fact, I couldn’t have planned things better myself.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's really good news to find out that the world isn't as scary as you thought it was."