Willing (Blog #1070)

This morning I worked backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! This isn’t as sexy as it may sound. My first official duty when I got to work? Sweep and mop the stage. Which, by the way, was covered in glitter, which one of the characters (Guy Diamond) farts out his butt. (Sheesh. Fart glitter. Toddler humor.) Anyway, just as I was really getting into the mopping part, a screw came out of my mop handle, and the head fell off. (I hate it when my head falls off.) So I picked up the screw, threw it away, took the mop out to my car, and repaired everything with a spare bolt and nut I found in my toolbox.

Well.

By the time I got back to the stage to finish mopping, a curtain (the main) had been lowered onto the stage. No problem, I thought, I’ll just mop behind it. But first I decided to look in front of the curtain, which is where the mop broke, just incase there was another screw or piece that had fallen out. Someone could step on it, I thought. Alas, one of the crew was behind the curtain, and when they noticed that someone in front of the curtain (me) was ruffling it, they sort-of started freaking out and (albeit gently) reprimanding that person (me again). “Don’t touch the curtain,” they said. “The doors are open. People are coming in.”

Of course, they didn’t know WHY I was touching the curtain. How could they? They didn’t ask for an explanation, and, being on the other side of the curtain and not realizing until “too late” that they were even talking to me, I didn’t offer one. This is an example of the idea that we all live in different worlds. I was living in the “I need to move the curtain to keep someone from getting hurt” world, and they were living in the “that curtain’s delicate and expensive, and the show’s about to start” world. And whereas there was a time I would have thought that their world was right and my world was wrong or vice versa, more and more I don’t see anyone else’s world as better or worse, morally superior or inferior, than mine.

Just different.

This being said, a part of me was still upset by the interaction. My Inner People Pleaser has been “online” for so long that it’s never fun (like, how exciting!) for me to be corrected. Plus, apparently my personality has been intentionally designed to be largely independent and function via an inner mantra that sounds like, “Don’t tell me what to do.” I accept this about myself. Not just because it resonates as true for me, but also because I’m tired of trying to change it. Not that I can’t improve or that I’m always right, but I am who I am. Accordingly, who and what I am IS right–for me.

Getting back to accepting myself in the above situation, years ago I would have fretted for hours, if not days, about what happened, thinking both that I had done something wrong and that–oh no!–someone didn’t like me. After almost six years of therapy, almost three years of daily writing and introspection, and just over a month of EMDR treatments, I’m happy to report that I got over it pretty quickly. My point being that you don’t have to be a slave to your emotional reactions forever. Your inner demons can be tamed and quieted. This being said, I truly believe that our emotional reactions only downshift once they’ve been given permission to speak and once we hear them.

Once we hear ourselves.

In Trolls Live! it’s said that one of the characters won (I think) the fuzziest hair contest in 2016, 2017, and 2019. “What happened in 2018?” one of the other characters says. The answer?

“We don’t talk about 2018.”

Alas, this is how most of us handle the distressing emotions and situations in our lives. We shove them down. Ignore them. Bury them. Cover them up. We don’t talk about IT, whatever IT is. And whereas I understand and am completely and utterly familiar with these strategies, they simply haven’t worked as a permanent and healing solution for me. What has worked? Talking about, feeling, and accepting every scary and uncomfortable whatever. Listening to and learning from my body, feelings, and emotions, however unpleasant or gross that process may be. Looking at IT. Mr. Rogers encouraged, “Feelings are mentionable AND manageable.” When you’re stuck in embarrassment or shame (I did something wrong), it can feel like you’re going to fall apart, to implode. But I can absolutely promise you that regardless of what you’ve buried inside you, you’ve been given an inherent wisdom that knows how to handle its resurrection and transformation.

Several minutes after the “you’re on the wrong side of the curtain” incident, I got excited about the fact that I was having a very ancient emotional reaction. Why? Because it let me know there was a part of me that needed to be heard, that I imagine has been wanting to express itself for quite a long time. That’s been wanting to take the stage and be my teacher. Along these lines, ore and more I’m grateful when someone pushes my buttons. Because they show me where my buttons are located. They show me the parts of myself I’ve been ignoring. (Thankfully, after all this time and trial-and-error–I now know what to do with this invaluable information.) Likewise, I’m even beginning to find gratitude for the pains in my body. Because they too are crying out for attention. And they make me curious. Like, Sweetheart, what’s going on here? What story do you have to tell me? What have I not been willing to hear until now?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You absolutely have to be vulnerable and state what you want.

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On Creation (Blog #1069)

This morning I woke up at 4:30 to work backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! in Fort Smith. Until 7:45 this evening. And whereas it was fun and absolutely magical, Daddy is worn the eff out. Seriously, I’ve said many times before that I’m not cut out for manual labor, and even the personality test I took recently agreed. You’re not meant for nine to five work, it said. So it’s good that tomorrow is the last day working the production. That’s the deal. Today they set up and did one show, then tomorrow they’ll do two shows, pack up, and hit the road.

And I’ll hit the hay.

Today they asked that we not take or post any pictures from backstage (that’s called a boundary), but, y’all, the sets, props, and costumes were stunning. Giant flowers, fluffy grass, velvet curtains, feather boas galore. And everything in every color. No kidding, it was like a box of crayons exploded. And whereas I spent most the day with my mouth open feeling like I was in the middle a cartoon (hello, childhood memories!), for many of the the cast and crew (who have been on the road with this show since October), it seemed to be just another day at work. Ho-hum. This reminded me that we can be surrounded by beauty and mystery and totally lose touch with it. We can look at a sunrise or a loved one and think, Oh, yeah, that old thing. I guess it’s all right.

I don’t recommend this.

Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything and say, “What is it?” The idea being that everything–without exception–is a mystery. Sometime try this with your hand. Just hold it out and stare at it, without thinking, It’s a hand or It’s an old, wrinkly hand. Just stare at it and see if you’re not struck with wonder. That it’s alive and that it can move. That it exists.

That you exist.

From what I understand, we lose the wonder of things when we label them. Either as objects or adjectives. That is, as soon as you say, “It’s a hand” or “He’s a jerk,” you move away from The Mystery. Of course, we’re all doing this all the time. We make a million assumptions each and every day about what things are. And yet the truth is–and I know this is mind twister–you only think it’s a hand because someone told you it was. (And what if they were wrong?) You only think he’s a jerk because you told he was. (And what if you were wrong?)

Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, does this mean the person you see in the mirror every day waved a magic wand and made something appear out of nothing? No. At the same time, yes. What I mean is that when you open your eyes every day, the world is there. The Mystery is there. The one in the mirror doesn’t create that. But the one in the mirror does create your experience of the world. By naming it, by labeling it, whatever you want–good or bad, too hot or too cold, terrifying or peaceful, ho-hum or magical.

I suggest magical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our shoulders weren’t meant to carry the weight of the world.

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On Interesting People (Blog #1042)

Phew. I woke up at six this morning and have been functioning ever since, working backstage for the national tour of the musical Finding Neverland. And whereas for weeks I’ve been fearful that my chronic sinus problems would rear their ugly head (in my head) and make my day miserable, I’ve felt fine. Almost human. Indeed, I’ve helped unload three semis, pushed props around, laid down Marley floor, made beds, and sanitized glasses and haven’t once thought, God, I feel terrible. Rather, except one time while crawling around on my knees, I’ve been grateful for this opportunity. Sure, it’s grunt work, but I love the magic of the theater and seeing how it all works.

Speaking of magic, here’s something. Over a year ago I got to work backstage for ten days for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. Well, this tour of Finding Neverland is being put on by the same production company, so this morning I was greeted by hugs and several familiar faces, friends whose lives and travels I’ve been following on social media. I can’t tell you what a treat this was, to show up to work and be welcomed, to not be a stranger. Of course, we’re all strangers at some point, in some situation. And so we meet each other. We say, “Hi, my name is (insert your name here). What’s your name?”

If we’re lucky, a conversation begins. And talk about magic, a good conversation can take you anywhere.

In my experience with good conversation, the key is to remain curious. Ask a lot of questions. So often we judge people by the clothes they wear or the job they’re currently doing and forget that we’re only seeing a piece of them, not the whole puzzle, the whole mystery. One of the gentlemen I worked with this morning was, by trade, a chef. Indeed, if you live in Fort Smith, you’ve probably eaten one of his recipes, since before he moved away he consulted with many of our local restaurants. Another worker said, “If you’re a chef, what are you doing here?”

“Just making some extra money while I’m visiting my family,” he said.

I don’t know. I think people are fascinating. What’s more, I think they’re willing to tell you almost anything if they sense you really want to listen. One man I just met today told several of us at lunch about his mentor who died many years ago in a freak accident. “It really affected me,” he said. “He taught me everything I know.” Heart wrenching.

Something I’ve been thinking about today is just how much your attitude affects your experience. For example, when you’re sitting with a group of strangers, a fearful or shy attitude will keep you isolated. But a curious attitude, a friendly attitude, will connect you to others, others who are fundamentally the same as you. People with hopes and dreams, griefs and tragedies not unlike yours. People who want to be loved, accepted, and appreciated exactly as they are, just like you do.

This is true no matter what someone looks like, no matter where they’re from.

Getting back to the idea of attitude, at one point today a forklift driver whose sole responsibility was to unstack large boxes over and over again told me he was bored. “It’s just the same thing. Up and down, up and down.” I totally get this. For years I worked as a wedding photographer’s assistant and was constantly surrounded by magic, the most important day of the wedding couple’s life. However, for me it was just another day at work, one more batch of spinach dip. Looking back, I can see that it was my attitude, my perception, that kept me from enjoying the uniqueness of each event. It’s not that the magic wasn’t there. I just couldn’t see it.

There’s an idea that I subscribe to that says that BORING people are BORED and INTERESTING people are INTERESTED. Again, this goes back to how curious you are about other people and your surroundings, what your attitude is. The truth is that, on one hand, every day is the same thing over and over again. We wake up, we go to bed. Up and down, up and down, until we die. So yes, one could get bored pretty easily. On the other hand, every day is new. For example, although I may work backstage at another show, I will never again work backstage with the same people, the same constellation of precious faces I worked with today. Seen from this perspective and with this attitude, each person, each day, and each moment we encounter becomes a gift, a gift worthy of our reverence and interest.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Magic of the Color Purple (Blog #956)

Three years ago this Christmas I was in New York City, and my friend Chad said, “You’ve GOT to see The Color Purple. I don’t care if you have to move heaven and earth to make it happen–go.” Well, I did. I bought a balcony ticket for–I don’t know–fifty or a hundred bucks and went all by my lonesome. In short, my life hasn’t been the same since. Within the first two minutes of the opening number, “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” I started crying, and I didn’t completely stop crying until the show was over. Simply put, it was a soul-grabbing, spirit-moving experience, the story of an abused teenager/woman and her journey of self-empowerment.

For the last three years, hardly a week has gone by that I haven’t listened to at least one of the songs from The Color Purple. Some of my favorite lyrics are–God works in mysterious waysOpen up your eyes, see what God has done–and I believe I have inside of me everything that I need to have a bountiful Life. Needless to say, a few months ago when I learned that The Color Purple was touring and would be in town tonight, I snatched up two tickets on the seventh row. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

So get this shit.

Last year I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and last month I worked backstage for the national tour of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. I guess this is how you get your foot in the door, since earlier this week my friend who hired me to work for these musicals (in Alma) recommended me to work backstage for The Color Purple (in Fort Smith). And whereas the job was to start at eight in the morning and I hate mornings, of course I jumped at the chance.

Y’all, today I woke up at six-thirty. Before the sun was even up. And whereas I’m a dipped-and-dyed night owl and, therefore, hate to admit this–it wasn’t awful. Actually, more and more I’m finding that mornings are rather agreeable to me. Maybe this comes with getting older (damn it), but it’s like the world is quiet and I can think. I have more energy.

No kidding, I showed up to the theater EARLY.

WHAT has happened to me?

As I have for the past two shows, I was assigned to PROPS this morning. I will forever be amazed at how multiple semi-trailer trucks can be unloaded and loaded back up in a single day, as one fellow worker commented, “all for a two hour show.” (My thought was, Totally worth it.) Anyway, in order for all this to work seamlessly, there must be order, and the more experience I get backstage, the more I appreciate the structure of the whole thing. The carpenters work on the set, the electrician work on the lights and sound, the props crew set up (part of) the orchestra pit, lay down the Marley floor, and–duh–set out the props.

It takes a village.

Something that’s been on my mind lately and especially today is how much power one person has to either bless or stress someone else. For example, having worked backstage a couple of times before today, I’ve been around some really pleasant people (who smile and say thank you) and some really unpleasant people (who yell and scream and act entitled). Either way, incidentally, all the work gets done. It’s just a matter of whether it gets done with a good attitude or a bad attitude. More and more, I see this as a choice, not just how I behave, but also how I respond to someone else’s behavior. Because I control whether I frown or smile. I can’t control how anyone else looks at me or treats me, but I can control that; I can control my reaction. Even when I get stuck with a sourpuss supervisor, I think, Am I going to make this day a good one or not?

Fortunately, my supervisor today, Whitney, was anything but a sourpuss. Rather, she was quite delightful. Y’all, it doesn’t take much. She said, “How are you?” She said, “Where are you from?” She literally called us friends. What’s more, she and the other folks on our crew made jokes. One guy noted that one of the boxes we unloaded said–I think–Magnum Ultra. He said, “That’s my stripper name.” We all tossed around comments like this one all morning. Seriously, a light-hearted attitude makes all the difference. I thought, I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I got up early.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and I’m at a coffee shop. At one all of us locals got cut for the afternoon, so I met my parents for lunch and then came here. Shortly I plan to meet a friend for dinner, and then we’ll see the show. After that, I’ll return backstage to work load out until–I don’t know–midnight or after. So, this is a long day.

But this is a good day.

Our days here are limited.

In “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” which is set in a hymn-singing, gospel-believing church, there’s a lyric that goes, Hallelujah! Today’s the day God has made. You don’t believe in God? That’s fine. My point is that today is special and unique. Never again will the sun shine quite the same way, and never again will you have THIS chance to smile, THIS opportunity to be kind to those around you. As one mystic has pointed out, THIS day will never come again. More and more I realize that today is a gift–and that my days here are limited. One day I’ll wake up, either early or late, and I’ll never wake up again. At least on this earth, at least in this body. So often I judge my life for not being “bigger,” “better,” but the truth is that this kind of thinking disconnects me from the magic of this present moment–the magic of a stranger’s kindness or laughter, the magic of lunch with my parents, the magic of the color purple.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The more honest you are about what's actually happening inside of you, the happier you are.

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I Can Do Hard Things (Blog #684)

What to talk about?

After we discovered multiple leaks under our kitchen sink a couple days ago, yesterday my dad called a plumber, who came by late last night. Then he, or rather someone else he called, came by this morning and fixed everything. And not that it’s about me, but the plumber said my efforts to patch a particular copper pipe with putty (say that five times fast) could have worked had the line been drained and completely dry. “They claim that stuff works on a wet surface, but it doesn’t,” he said.

So much for truth in advertising!

It’s probably good my efforts didn’t work, since there were also two other leaks, one of which I knew about and one of which I didn’t. Anyway, all three leaks have been taken care of, and it didn’t break the bank. Phew. Now all that’s left to do is replace one piece of rotten wood underneath the sink and reattach a couple other pieces of wood under the cabinets. Perfect project for a rainy day.

And god knows there’s plenty of those in the forecast.

Several months ago I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. And whereas it was exhausting, I absolutely loved it. Not only did I learn a lot and have a ton of fun, I met some darling people, several of whom I’m still in touch with. Anyway, let’s talk about magnets. While I was working backstage I wanted to buy a show magnet as a souvenir, since I have a show magnet collection, and I try to add to it whenever I see a Broadway play or musical. (Some shows don’t sell magnets. Harrumph. I’m talking at you, Cabaret.) Unfortunately, The Wizard of Oz didn’t have magnets to sell, since they were on backorder.

I wish I could tell you I didn’t lose sleep over this.

Okay, fast forward to recently, when I asked one of my friends who works backstage for the tour (Kelsey) if she would send me a magnet. “You bet,” she said. Well, I went to the mailbox today, and there it was! Plus, Kelsey surprised me with a Wizard of Oz Tour ball cap. Y’all, I can’t tell you how excited I was (and am) about this. The last few days I’ve been discouraged by life in general (too many rainy days), but this kind gesture picked me right up. Not only do I love, love, love getting to add to my magnet collection (which, other than books is my only collection), the magnet and hat have sent me over the moon because of my personal connection to the show. All day I’ve been thinking, Life ain’t so bad!

Thanks again, Kelsey!

I spent this afternoon at the library doing paperwork. I can’t tell you how badly I didn’t want to and how much I futzed around trying to put it off. But then I finally sat down and got started. Do one thing at a time, I told myself. Three hours later, I was 90 percent done. Now my goal is to do the rest tomorrow. Having come this far, the last 10 percent doesn’t scare me. Plus, as my friend Bonnie is constantly reminding me, I can do hard things. At this point, I’m actually looking forward to checking “paperwork” off my to-do list.

I’ve touched on this a number of times lately, but it occurs to me again that just getting started is a HUGE thing. This last weekend I was all worked up about a writing project, then Monday I was all worked up about getting patch tested at the dermatologist’s office, then today I was all worked up about the paperwork. But now the writing project is done, and the patch testing and the paperwork will be done tomorrow. I don’t know, as I was working today, I reviewed my calendar and was reminded that last year I took several big trips, helped some friends pack their two houses so they could move to Colorado, and successfully came through knee surgery. So what’s a little paperwork? I just think this is important to keep in mind, since we all have tasks we’re afraid of tackling. But again, it’s simply a matter of getting started, doing one thing at a time, and remembering, I can do hard things.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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This Thing Called Life (Blog #563)

Ten years ago my friends Gregg and Rita helped start The Oklahoma Swing Syndicate, a group that hosts a weekly swing dance in Tulsa, and yesterday was the organization’s anniversary celebration. Ten years–that’s over 500 community dances. Anyway, Gregg and Rita have always supported my dance endeavors, so last night I drove to Tulsa to surprise them. Y’all–talk about a good time. Not only did I get to see Gregg and Rita, but I also got to see a number of dance friends I haven’t seen in years. Plus, I got to see my 96-year-old friend Marina, who absolutely makes my heart melt both on and off the dance floor.

The dance itself lasted until after midnight, and since I’m house sitting for friends this weekend, I drove back to Fort Smith between one and three in the morning. And whereas the entire affair went well, I was exhausted both physically and emotionally by the time I got back. This morning I slept in, which helped, but today has nonetheless continued to be–well–a bitch. This last week presented a number of internal challenges–some of which I wrote about and some of which I didn’t–and I guess they all caught up with me. To put it simply, I’ve been in a foul mood–worried, nervous, tired.

For most of the afternoon, I tried all the tricks I know. I stuck my nose in a book. I tried being grateful. I went for a run. I ate a piece of cake. And whereas it all helped, it didn’t push me over the ledge into The Land of Contentment.

Sometimes you just don’t feel well.

Last October I was in Carbondale, Colorado, for a spiritual retreat of sorts. Exactly one year ago tonight I started feeling poorly. I didn’t write about it that night, but I did write about it the next morning when I woke up with what would turn out to be the beginning of a several-month-long sinus infection. For over a hundred days, I felt like shit. There were good days here and there, of course, but it was honestly the most challenging and emotionally taxing health situation I’ve encountered in all my 38 years. Even after I finally got my sinus issues under control, I got slammed with the flu twice in the span of six weeks (I think). It was one damned thing after another.

During this time, I was fortunate enough to get a new primary care physician, who–over the course of many months–put me through a series of tests, some of which were run by other doctors. And whereas it’s been a bitch of a year, things are MOSTLY figured out. My sinuses are still a little snotty, but I haven’t had a sinus infection in over six months. (I haven’t been able to say this in over twenty years.) Thanks to upping my Vitamin D and B12 and getting more consistent rest, my energy levels are better. Not “perfect,” but better. Recently I worked for ten days straight backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and I never once worried whether or not my body would be able to “make it.” In other words, we’re learning to trust each other.

This is no small thing.

Whenever I blog and am particularly “impressed” with something that makes its way onto the page, I copy that sentence or paragraph and put it in a separate digital notepad with the intent to add it to the “Quotes from CoCo” box you see at the bottom of each post. However, I haven’t added any new quotes to the website in essentially a year. That is, until a few days ago, when I determined to get “caught up.” And whereas it will probably take a week or two to do this, I have started the process. At first, the thought of this task was daunting, but it’s turning out to be a fun, encouraging thing, going back and re-reading the highlights and self-issued hope from this last year. Today I was reminded that “No one is immune from life’s challenges,” “You’re exactly where you need to be,” and “A storm can leave your life just as quickly as it enters it.”

Our struggles unearth our strengths.

I say all this because it’s easy for me to forget how far I’ve come. I have one bad afternoon, and it feels as if I’ve gotten nowhere. But we’ll ALWAYS have bad days and we’ll ALWAYS have challenges–because this is how we grow. If I were designing a universe, I’d come up with a different method for personal improvement, but this is the way it works in this universe. Our struggles unearth our strengths. (I should add that to the quote box.) Also, I think they help us connect with others. All day I tried to get myself out of my own head. I kept telling the universe, “I want to feel better.” Then tonight my friend Marla called out of the blue to discuss a writing matter. And simply because Marla’s Marla–not because she knew I felt bad and needed cheering up–she made me laugh, laugh, laugh.

And just like that, a cloud was lifted.

It seems that this is how the universe works. It answers our prayers and cries for help, but rarely does so in the manner in which we think it should. Usually, there are other people involved. Not that your own intelligence and good graces can’t carry you so far, but when you solve all your own problems, not only do you set yourself up for pride, but you also isolate yourself. My friend Kim says, “We’re made for community,” and this is a lesson I’m learning. This last year has been an amazing journey; I’m the first to admit how much I’ve grown and how much I’ve worked my ass off to do so. But it wouldn’t have been possible without the help and support of my family, friends, my therapist and my doctors, and everyone else with whom I have the privilege of dancing through this thing called life.

For all of you, I’m extremely grateful.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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On Which Glasses You Choose to Wear (Blog #559)

In my parents’ living room is a large leather recliner. It’s gorgeous, comfortable. One could really get lost in it. That being said, I’ve only once spent any significant amount of time in this recliner–when I was recovering from my sinus surgery–because my mom LIVES in this recliner. Simply put, it’s hers, and my dad and I make a lot of jokes about the fact that we rarely get to use it. Anyway, this morning while I was eating breakfast, Mom said that she’s been getting cold recently and explained, “When you sit in the recliner, it’s right under the air vent.”

So I said, “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

And then my mom, who reads my blog every day, used my own material against me. She said, “Is that what you call being passive aggressive?”

I was stunned.

“Yes,” I said. Then I added–“It’s an option.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we mostly processed my time working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. It was a good experience, of course, but it was also A LOT of information (my therapist called it a “data dump”), considering the fact that I was new to much of what was going on and also new to working with so many people and having “a boss.” Not completely new, of course, but it’s been a while since I’ve worked with a such large group or for someone else–like twenty years.

As I’ve discussed here before, I told my therapist that in new situations I often think of myself as invisible or “not worthy of being noticed,” and it’s therefore shocking when people DO notice me (which they did this last week). She said this belief was “just irritating” and needed to go.

Toward the end of our session, we talked about money. This is a topic my therapist appears to be quite comfortable with, and one I’m trying to get comfortable with. My therapist says the more we talk about money, the more my brain will begin to think, This shit’s all right. Today she said I should pick an amount of money I’d like to make a day that’s not “outrageous” but the thought of which is “just enough to make you nervous.” So I did. Now my job is to simply “will it into existence.” And whereas I understand that this sounds like a bunch of new-age bullshit, my therapist says that if I pair my current work ethic with positive self-talk, the universe will respond favorably.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I told my therapist that one of the over-arching beliefs I’ve held for–well–decades is that “maybe it’ll work for everyone else, but it won’t work for me.” Super optimistic, I know. Anyway, I’ve applied this thinking to my relationships, my health, and my finances. This is the way beliefs work–they don’t just affect one area of your life; they affect everything. Much like tinted spectacles, beliefs are the filter through which we see the world. Like, if you don’t believe in abundance, you’ll never see it. Even if you have a hundred dollars–or even a million dollars–in your pocket, you’ll think, It’s not enough.

Currently I’m sitting in a library surrounded by THOUSANDS of books and ENDLESS potential knowledge. Now, I could focus on the fact that I don’t have enough time to read all these books or the fact that there are a lot of other books I’m interested in that aren’t in this library. (Talk about lack!) Or I could focus on the fact that I have access to ALL THIS INFORMATION–basically–for free. (Talk about abundance!) The way I see it, just like being direct and being passive aggressive are OPTIONS in conversation, seeing lack and seeing abundance are OPTIONS in perspective. Yes, an objective reality exists–there are a certain number of books here. But a subjective reality also exists, and that reality depends solely on your thoughts and your beliefs, on which glasses you–and only you–choose to wear.

Wayne Dyer used to say, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” This is what I’m trying to do–gradually adjust my thinking and beliefs when it comes to my relationships, my health, and my finances. Personally, I’m tired of believing, It’s not enough. For me, it’s lazy–that is, habitual–thinking. Today I told my therapist, “I’m done believing that things work for other people and not me. (As my favorite coffee cup says–Fuck This Shit.) My new thought is–If it can work for someone else, it can work for me.

“THANK YOU!” she said.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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A Synopsis of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Blog #558)

Recently I spent ten days working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. This afternoon, as an act of mourning, celebration, and education, I read the book on which the musical and movie were based–The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum–for the first time. And whereas the musical and movie contain much of the original story, they leave many notable details out.

Prepare yourself for a rather long (but entertaining) book report.

According to the Baum, Aunt Em never smiles, and she, Uncle Henry, and Dorothy (and Toto) are the only characters who live in Kansas. (Later we find out that the wizard is from Omaha, Nebraska.) There’s no mention of the three farmhands–Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke–nor is there any mention of Miss Gulch, and Dorothy never runs away or encounters Professor Marvel.

When Dorothy is swept up by the tornado and lands in Munchkin Land, she finds out that the land of Oz is divided into four sections–the east, where she’s landed, where the Munchkins live, and that used to be ruled by The Wicked Witch of the East; the west, ruled by The Wicked Witch of the West; the north, ruled by The (nameless) Witch of the North; and the south, whose details we find out later. The City of Emeralds (or The Emerald City) is in the center of all four lands. The Yellow Brick Road goes from the east to The Emerald City, and there’s NO ROAD that goes to the west.

At this point in the story, The Wicked Witch of the West does NOT appear in Munchkin Land, but Dorothy does receive a pair of magical shoes from The Witch of the North, the shoes that used to belong to The Wicked Witch of the East. However, these shoes are silver, NOT ruby, and it’s only at a later point–when Dorothy changes from a red dress into her famous blue and white gingham dress–that she puts the shoes ON. The dress, which she’s brought (in her house) from Kansas is significant because all the Munchkins wear blue and believe that anyone who wears white is a sorceress. So (like Jesus), they see Dorothy as both one of them (or human) and divine.

As we all are.

As Dorothy sets off to see the Wizard–who’s referred to as The Great and Terrible, NOT The Great and Powerful–she quickly encounters The Scarecrow, The Tin Woodman, and The Cowardly Lion, much like she does in the musical and movie. Baum describes The Scarecrow–who’s supposed to have no brain–as saying things “thoughtfully” or “after some serious thought.” At first I judged these descriptions as either poor writing or pure irony, but one could argue that they are neither, as all the main characters clearly possessed that which they were seeking the whole time but simply didn’t realize it yet.

As we all do.

Another interesting point the book makes is that just as The Scarecrow didn’t have a brain (or a heart), The Tin Woodman didn’t have a heart (or a brain). But, for different reasons, one values the head above the heart, and the other values the heart above the brain, so each seeks what is important to him even though both things are “missing.” Personally, I think one should have, value, and use both their brain AND their heart.

In the scene in which Dorothy, The Scarecrow, and The Tin Woodman encounter The Cowardly Lion, the lion asks if Toto is made of straw or tin. Neither, Dorothy says, he’s “a meat dog.”

Before reaching The Emerald City, Dorothy and her friends encounter a number of trials, none of which have anything to do with The Wicked Witch of the West. Like in the musical and movie, one of these trials is the poisonous poppy field, where they initially have to leave the lion–who falls asleep–but later come back to save him. (They haul him out on a cart made by The Tin Woodman and are assisted in pulling it by hundreds of field mice.) When they do reach The Emerald City, they are required to wear green spectacles, which they are told is to protect their eyes from all the shiny objects and is something everyone has to do. Later, when it’s found out that the wizard is a fraud (“a humbug”), they’re told the spectacles are used to fool both the citizens and visitors into believing that everything is green even though in reality it’s not.

The book says that Dorothy and her friends get to see the wizard, but they have to do it separately. The wizard appears in a different form to each one, but asks them all to do the same thing–kill The Wicked Witch of the West. (Because he’s not really a wizard, he’s a afraid of her.) In the musical and movie, he asks that they bring him her broomstick, but the broomstick isn’t mentioned in the book at all–because, like Mary Poppins, the witch carries AN UMBRELLA!

Also, in the book, the witch has ONE EYE instead of two.

So Dorothy and the gang take off a-witch-hunting, but by this point, the one-eyed witch has found out about them, so she sends 40 wolves to have their asses for dinner. (The Tin Woodman chops their heads off.) Then she sends 40 crows. (The Scarecrow breaks their necks.) Then she sends a swarm of bees. (They break their stingers on The Tin Woodman’s chest.) Then she sends 12 Winkies, which are yellow, by the way, the same way the Munchkins are “blue.” (The Lion scares The Winkies off.) Finally, the witch sends the winged monkeys, whom she controls by means of a golden cap. The caveat–whoever has the golden cap can only command the monkeys three times, and this is the witch’s final “wish.”

But the monkeys succeed. (In the musical, a creature called The Jitterbug causes the main characters to dance until they are exhausted, at which point the flying monkeys scoop them up. The Jitterbug scene was shot for the 1939 movie–during the peak of the Lindy Hop/swing dance/jitterbug era–but was ultimately edited out.)

In the book, it’s only Dorothy and the lion who are brought to the witch’s castle; the other two friends are left in the woods to be rescued later. And whereas the lion is kept outside to starve to death (Dorothy saves him by sneaking him food each day), Dorothy is kept in “the house” to do dishes, much like Cinderella was. Of course, what the witch really wants is Dorothy’s shoes, and when she finally manages to steal ONE of them but not the other, Dorothy gets pissed off and throws a bucket of water on her, and it’s then that the witch both melts and dies.

And Dorothy gets her other shoe back.

At this point, Dorothy and the lion rescue their two lost friends, and since Dorothy has taken the golden cap from the witch, the four of them (and Toto) are ultimately transported back to The Emerald City by the winged monkeys. (These guys are better than Uber.) From here, the storyline pretty much follows the musical and movie, except that when the wizard takes off in the hot air balloon, The Witch of the North DOES NOT show up to save the day. Rather, our heroes are forced to take off on more adventures, and this time they go in search of The Witch of the South–Glinda–who lives in a land where everything is RED and sits on a throne made of RUBIES.

MGM (who made the movie) obviously COMBINED The Witch of the North with The Witch of the South.

Nowhere in the book (that I remember) is the phrase “lions and tigers and bears–oh my!” used. However, while the four friends are going south in search of Glinda, the come upon a land where everyone and everything is made of china (The Dainty China Country), and each of the characters except the lion says, “Oh my!”

Once the four travelers reach Glinda, she indeed teaches Dorothy how to use her magical shoes in order to get back home. But first she uses the golden cap, which Dorothy gives her in exchange for her help, to call three times upon the winged monkeys ato The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City (as the wizard asked him to do when he left in the hot air balloon), The Tin Woodman back to rule The Winkies in the west, and The (no-longer) Cowardly Lion back to rule a particular forest.

So Dorothy clicks her heels together three times and is whisked (in three steps) across “the desert” and back home to Kansas. (The shoes fall off her feet along the way.) However, during this whole ordeal, she never says, “There’s no place like home.” She does that earlier, when she meets The Scarecrow, who says he doesn’t understand why Dorothy would want to go back to dull, drab Kansas instead of staying in colorful Oz. “This is because you have no brains,” she says. “There’s no place like home.”

In the musical and movie, it’s strongly indicated that Dorothy was stuck unconscious by the tornado and has simply dreamt her adventures. But in the book, Dorothy comes running up to the farm, and Aunt Em says, “Where in the world have you come from?” Dorothy replies, “From the Land of Oz. … I’m so glad to be at home again!” And that’s it–THE END. Nothing is said about the tornado or the fact that Dorothy used their house as an airplane to go on vacation but didn’t bother to bring it back.

So that’s CoCo’s Cliff Notes for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. But before closing, since I’m so fascinated by the symbology of this story, here a few final things that stood out to me in the book that didn’t stand out to me in the musical or movie:

1. On going into the forest

Joseph Campbell says, “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path; you are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s way, you are not going to realize your potential.” So I think it’s appropriate that there’s NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch of the West. Like Campbell says of all true heroes, Dorothy and her friends must blaze their own trail.

Symbolically speaking, the forest Dorothy and her friends enter en route to The Wicked Witch represents Dorothy’s unconscious, and The Wicked Witch represents her shadow. (It’s all the same.) The Guardian of the Gates of The Emerald City is the one who says there is NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch and explains WHY this is the case–because “no one ever wishes to go that way.” Exactly, no one WANTS to face their shadow. Why would they? It’s dark, dangerous, and scary as hell. But it is–ultimately–the way home. As the saying goes, “The only way out–is in.”

Along the same lines, Caroline Myss says, “Always go with the choice that scares you the most–because that’s the one that’s going to require the most from you.”

2. On recognizing your own power

When The Wicked Witch enslaves Dorothy, she KNOWS that Dorothy could use her silver slippers to escape if she only knew what to do with them. But she explains, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” I think this is a gorgeous lesson, the perfect reminder that we are all more capable than we recognize; it’s just a matter of learning how to rise above rather than be intimated by that which at first blush seems scary. Jesus obviously knew how to do this–he slept through a storm, walked on water, and danced on his way to the cross. The reason they called him Master? Because it’s not easy.

But it is possible.

3. On being wonderful

When Glinda is preparing to send The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City, she says it’s because “it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler,” and The Scarecrow says, “Am I really wonderful?

Glinda’s reply?

“You are unusual.”

Oh the shade! (Shade is when you insult someone discreetly, Mom.)

But seriously. Perhaps these two things–being wonderful and being unusual–go hand in hand. I don’t know–we so often want to be like everyone else. But the truth is, we are ALL unusual. For all our similarities, there will never be another YOU or another ME–ever, ever, ever. So why not own and celebrate our differences? Don’t they make us wonderful?

Don’t they make us FULL of wonder?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Handle Yourself with Care (Blog #557)

Last night I went to bed late, so I slept in this morning as much as possible. Still, I’ve felt “off” the entire day–groggy, nervous. For the last ten days I’ve been busy from sunup to sundown, but today there’s been squat to do. Consequently, I spent the entire afternoon inventing to-do list items like making my bed, washing my car, and doing my laundry. I just haven’t been able to sit still. But perhaps all my activity has been good, as it’s allowed me to reorient to normal life after spending nearly a hundred hours in the magical land of Oz.

Sorry, Mom and Dad, but our living room isn’t nearly as fun as Munchkin Land. Especially since your dog shit on the carpet this afternoon while you were gone.

It’s weird how you can get used to a new routine so quickly. For nine days I woke up at 7:30 in the morning so that I could be at work by 9:00. (Me–an early riser!) But after the show Saturday night, I went to bed at 2:00 AM and forgot to set an alarm for our tenth and final day, Sunday. And yet just like that, my body woke me up at 8:00–technically thirty minutes “late,” but still early enough for me to shake a leg and get to work on time. I don’t know–I’ve spent a lot of years not trusting my body, thinking that every ache and pain or lingering illness is a betrayal. But if my body can wake me up to go to work, it’s obviously smart and probably capable of MUCH more than I give it credit for.

I’m trying to believe in my body more. I’m trying to believe in myself more.

Just before tech week started, I was doing my level best to be in bed by midnight or one, limit the amount of caffeine I drank, and exercise. My internal mantra–which I borrowed from fitness guru Susan Powter–was “Eat, breathe, and move.” And whereas I ate healthily during those ten days in Oz, I didn’t bother with the caffeine restriction or even try to exercise (except for all that running around I did backstage). Anyway, I’m planning to ease myself back onto the “better-choices wagon this week, to re-implement those little changes consistently. Historically I’ve given myself a lot of crap for not being “perfect,” but this is life, and life happens. My therapist says, “Don’t say you ONLY dieted for three days. Say you dieted FOR THREE DAYS. That’s huge–some people never make an effort!”

I’m trying to be gentle with myself this time, to not be such a hard-ass perfectionist. I’m trying to handle myself with care.

This evening my friend Emily, who plays The Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz, invited me to join her and a few other cast members for dinner. Oh my gosh, y’all, what a perfect way to end my journey down the yellow brick road. For a couple hours, the five of us laughed, shared stories, and celebrated the birthday of the actor who plays Uncle Henry and the Gatekeeper of The Emerald City–Michael Weaver. Thank y’all!

Not it’s ten o’clock. Like yesterday, I’m awash with emotion, feeling everything from sadness to gratitude. Mostly, I’m tired. It’s especially difficult to know where to put everything when you’re tired. With any luck I’ll be curled up in bed soon with a book in my hands. Oh, Reading, how I have missed thee! Yes, this is what I need–to settle in and settle down, to read a few chapters, and finally to drift off to The Land of Nod, where anything is possible and everything works itself out one way or another.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are all connected in a great mystery and made of the same strong stuff.

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The Last Day (Blog #556)

It’s day ten working for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and it’s also the last day. This morning at nine, four dozen workers descended on the Alma Performing Arts Center and–in just under five hours–took down all the lights, backdrops, and prop boxes we put up ten days ago. We filled up four semi trailer trucks worth of Oz, and then they drove off. So now it’s over. And whereas my physical body is glad for the break–it was a long ten days–my heart is sad. This last week and a half was–well–quite magical. There were so many wonderful moments, so many wonderful people that I may never see again. And yet I’m grateful to have had these moments, to have met these people.

What I’m feeling is often called PMS–Post Musical Syndrome–that sad feeling you get when a show is over. You spend all this time together–you’re like a little family–and then it’s just–done. Everyone goes their separate ways. The stage is suddenly empty. It’s disorienting. You think, What will happen next? But perhaps the last day is also the best day, since all the hard work is over, there’s that feeling of satisfaction, and you realize, I got to be part of something beautiful. And maybe you appreciate something more when it’s over, since it helps you remember how quickly time passes, how precious each moment, each person, and each connection truly is.

I spent this evening with two of my dearest friends–Justin and Ashley–whom I used to live with. For me, it was the perfect way to celebrate this past week, a way to come back home, the way Dorothy did after visiting her magical land. This is important, I think–to visit magical lands and meet new people, but to also come back home to yourself and those who know you and love you unconditionally.

As we’re not known for our SHORT conversations, Justin and I stayed up until two-thirty. Now it’s three-thirty, and I’m at finally home and looking forward to going to bed. But obviously there’s this blog. Hum. How to keep it short?

In the Northern Hemisphere, there are two highly recognizable constellations–Ursa Major, which contains the Big Dipper, and Orion (the Hunter). And whereas the Big Dipper is visible year-round, Orion is only visible for about five months in the fall and winter. Well, two nights ago, Friday, while driving home at two-thirty in the morning, I saw Orion for the first time since I got interested in astronomy this last spring. Wow. There he was on the eastern horizon–unmistakable–big as day–well, big as night.

Gorgeous.

Opposite Orion, on the western horizon, was my dear Pegasus, the constellation that used to be on the eastern horizon at two-thirty in the morning a few months ago. Ugh, this is the way the universe works. For a while a star –a constellation–is rising, and then it’s overhead, and then it sets, gone for a season or perhaps forever. Likewise, we meet people, we dance together, and we say goodbye. Who’s to say if we will meet again? My therapist says that life is long–you never know who or what will cycle back around. Personally, I think it’s important to remember that for every setting star, there’s another on the horizon. In other words, life’s stage is never truly empty–there’s always something or someone to love or be grateful for. And–well–even if something were to happen and I NEVER saw Orion or my newfound friends again, I’ll ALWAYS remember that one night and that one time when we were together for one brief but beautiful magical moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to find a problem, you will.

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