On Rituals (Blog #844)

Today I finished a house sitting gig, so this morning I went through my last-day routine–wash the sheets, clean the dishes, put everything back in its place. Then this afternoon before leaving I took my bags (yes, I have multiple bags) one-by-one to my car, Tom Collins. This is honestly one of the only drags to living temporarily in other people’s houses. There’s a lot of stuff shuffling on the first and last days–bags of clothes, books, an exercise mat and foam roller, groceries. Gosh I’ve got a lot of shit. Fortunately, although it does take a while to load and unload all my stuff, I don’t have to go through TSA with any of it.

Now that would be a real nightmare.

This evening I taught a dance lesson to a new couple, then went to a local bookstore to read. I’d be good with doing this every day–sticking my nose in a psychology book. My current challenge is to not take everything I read so seriously. For example, if a self-help book suggests several exercises to try, I’m working on not seeing them as “required.” My therapist says I’m so hung up on completion. (True, and it’s getting better.) “But you could just choose one or two exercises to do,” she says. “Or not do any of them at all.”

There’s a novel thought.

This evening I picked up Subway for me and my parents, and ended up chatting with the girl who made our salads. I asked about her tattoos, and she told me she got one of them for her best friend who committed suicide. Wow, you never know what’s going on with someone. Also, it’s amazing what people will tell you if you show the slightest bit of interest.

After getting the salads, I ran to Walmart to pick up food for our family dog, Ella. While there I bought a two-dollar hairbrush. Y’all, I don’t think I’ve ever purchased a hairbrush before. Talk about confusing. There were so many options. Anyway, that’s not my point. My point is that since my hair has gotten long I’ve been using an old hairbrush I’ve had since–I don’t know–I was a teenager. Literally, it’s falling apart. And gross. Let’s not forget gross. But here’s the real deal–because I’ve been putting off buying a new one just to save a few bucks, every time I use the old one, I feel poor. Inevitably part of me thinks, This is all I’m worth. So as much as being helpful, the new brush is for me a symbol of I’m worthy of good things.

Things that work.

I’ve used this symbolic approach in a few areas of my life lately. For a while I’ve been losing socks or simply wearing them out. So earlier this week I started fresh–I bought a new pack. Then I went through my old ones and got rid of the ones that were gross or stretched out. At the same time, I threw away a few ratty shirts. What’s the point in keeping them? Again, they just make me feel like I’m–I don’t know–one of the kids in Oliver!

The word that’s been on my mind today is ritual. When I got home from Walmart tonight, I one-by-one unpacked my bags, hung up my clothes, and put everything in its place. While I did this, I threw out a few more things, rearranged my sock drawer. And whereas I’ll be packing things back up for another gig before the week is over, it feels really good now for everything to not be haphazard. As I understand it, this is what rituals (including how you get dressed in the morning and the way you go about eating a meal) do for us–they provide much-needed structure. They ground us.

Tonight my dance couple said they’d already been online looking for shoes. This is another ritual–buying new things when starting habits or hobbies–and it’s something we do intuitively. It’s a conscious, physical act that communicates to our unconscious, I’m serious about this. This would be my suggestion to anyone wanting to make progress in any area of your life–weight loss, writing, decluttering. Turn whatever it is into a ritual. You’ll be more likely to succeed. It’s why I blog every day, usually while I listen to the same music. It’s why I, on a regular basis, sort through my stuff and throw or give away what I no longer like or need. It’s not that I CAN’T hold on to things–there’s nothing inherently wrong with that–but I know that if you hold on to one thing in your life, you’ll hold on to other things in your life as well. So I want my entire system (body, soul, spirit) to get the message–We let go easily. We don’t cling. We’re worthy of new things, things that work.

Recently I told my therapist I’d dreamed I was on a toilet taking a shit. “Really?” she said. “Yeah,” I said, “I have a lot of bathroom dreams like that.”

“THAT’S VERY AUSPICIOUS!” she said.

Her point was just this. What do you do when you go to the bathroom? You get rid of toxicity–waste–that which is no longer useful to you. Shit is what’s left over after your body has garnered all the good it can from your food. So my dreaming about going to the bathroom means the same thing is happening in my unconscious–in my beneath-the-surface thoughts and emotions. That is, I’m getting rid of that which is no longer useful. I’m taking the good from my experiences and ditching the rest. (Bye, Felicia.) So in both my outer and inner worlds, I’m letting go. This isn’t a coincidence, since what’s happening outside usually mirrors what’s happening inside. Not that it’s always easy to see, of course. This is what a ritual helps with. It draws a clear line between two things that aren’t otherwise obviously connected. You let go of old clothes, you let go of old beliefs. You get your room in order, you get your mind in order.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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A Form of Healing (Blog #391)

Today I wore a vintage sailor’s cap and a vest, and tonight during our monthly comedy show, the other performers referred to me as both “Oliver” and “a Newsie.” I saw my therapist this afternoon, and she said I looked very “Fiddler on the Roof.” (My response to this was to start singing, “If I were a rich man.”) But clearly everyone agrees–I look like a character from a musical, someone one who can sing and dance but doesn’t have a lot of money.

Sounds about right.

My therapist’s big push this afternoon had to do with patience and abundance. We talked mainly about my quirky immune system and how I’m currently dieting and mentally considering everything from paleo to past-life regression as viable options to figure out my body’s problems and therefore cure myself. My therapist’s suggestion was to hang tight, be patient. She said it sounded as if I’d landed in the right place with both my primary care physician and immunologist, that surely they could find an answer. “In the meantime,” she said, “if your body is tired, take a nap. I know you’re hung up on being productive, but you’ve produced for years. It’s okay to rest. No one is judging you. You’re THE ONLY ONE judging you.”

Boy, does she know me, or what?

If the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

In terms of abundance, she said she thought I’d made a lot of progress seeing both the world and money as abundant. Now, she said, it’s time to focus on seeing health as abundant, to believing that my body and my doctors can and will eventually find an answer to whatever is going on. I don’t mind saying this is a challenge for me. I’ve dealt with sinus infections for so long and have been sick so much recently, it’s tough to believe–like really, deep-down believe–that things can turn around. That being said, the way I see the world has completely turned around in the last several years, as has my internal health, my mental and emotional health. So surely if the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

Fingers crossed.

Tonight at the comedy show, I went around to all the tables close to the stage, introduced myself, and passed out little slips of paper that we use for one of our skits. This is something I almost always do, but I normally do it with a glass of scotch in my hand. Tonight, however, since I’m on this Autoimmune Paleo Diet, I did it completely sober. Y’all–talking to strangers is MUCH easier when you’re tipsy. I mean, they don’t call alcohol a social lubricant for nothing. That being said, I survived. And get this–I met one lady who ended up giving ME a pep talk. She’d asked if we ever bombed, and I said, “MOST of the show usually goes well, but there are always moments when we struggle.” Then she said, “Yeah, but you’re up there trying, putting yourself out there, and that’s what matters.”

Isn’t that great? I said, “I’m going to blog about this tonight.” (I think she thought I was kidding.) And get this too–she was wearing a necklace that said, “Hope.” Well, I’ve been really working on hope lately, so it was the perfect reminder. Maybe someone else would say my seeing this lady’s necklace was just a coincidence, but I took it as a personal message from the universe that I was on the right track, that hope was actually an okay thing to do. This is something I’ve been thinking about today, whether the universe puts certain people and messages in my path (or anyone’s path), or whether those people and messages were there all along and I just finally noticed them. I’m honestly not sure that it matters, since it seems that when a person’s subconscious is ready to work on something, it can clearly use anything–a therapist, a total stranger, a necklace–to get its point across.

Healing is possible.

Tonight the lady I met, along with her husband, said, “Don’t be nervous. If your family’s not here, we’ll be your family tonight. We’ll cheer you on.” How cool is that? For me it felt like that moment in Oliver! when he gets adopted by The Artful Dodger. Consider yourself at home! But seriously–I think abundance starts this way, recognizing a stranger’s smile or someone’s random and generous offer of support for what it is–a form of healing. And I am slowly starting to believe this, really deep-down believe this, that the world is our home, that people are good, and that healing is possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

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