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

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

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

I wish I had something more exciting to share.

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

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

Why not, Marcus?

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

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