On Anxiety, Myths, and Divine Timing (Blog #841)

It’s eleven at night, and I just turned on my “blogging music.” This morning started off slowly–I slept in, ate breakfast, then read over a hundred fifty pages in The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. It’s fabulous, about the idea that life is inherently anxiety-inducing and that myths help us not only make sense of our world, but also alleviate that anxiety. Too much anxiety in your life? You need a different myth, a different viewpoint, a different psychological construct from which to see things.

A different set of glasses.

Honestly, I could have spent the entire day reading. I can’t tell you what a sense of accomplishment and joy I get when I finish an entire book in one day. Alas, this was not to be. For weeks I’ve been telling myself that I’d put down my books and finally do a few things–respond to emails, go to the bank and the post office, shit like that. Well, I finally did these things this afternoon. And whereas I started to give myself a hard time for not doing them sooner, I didn’t because recently I’ve been thinking about divine timing.

I’ll explain.

Byron Katie says that when you argue with reality, you lose–but only one hundred percent of the time. This means that if you think you SHOULD be running errands (and you aren’t) or that you SHOULD HAVE run errands sooner than you did, you’re going to experience stress. Why? Just one simple reason–it’s not the truth. The truth is you’re not running errands, or that you didn’t run them sooner than you did. This is what I mean by divine timing. Things happen when they happen. We can SHOULD and SHOULD HAVE all day long, but that just produces anxiety. This is the myth of I’m not doing things right, the myth of I did something wrong, and the myth of I’m a bad person, I’m a worm.

Going back to divine timing, I can’t tell you the number of times things have shown up in my life at just the right moment. For example, not too long ago I got an unexpected check for nearly three hundred dollars in the mail, the result of one of those silly class-action lawsuit postcards that I fill out now and then (and usually result in a check for $2.87). Well, that three hundred bucks totally saved my ass. The same thing happened over Christmas this last year when I needed to pay some bills but couldn’t work because of my knee injury. Someone bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. Of course, this miraculous timing doesn’t just apply to money. My therapist showed up at just the right time. Books and information continue to show up at just the right time.

One of my points here is–How do you know? That is, how do you know you should have said something or done something sooner–or that you should even do it at all (if you haven’t already)? Having been on the receiving end of multiple (hundreds of) perfectly timed kindnesses, it’s not a stretch for me to think that I can play a part in the producing end of perfectly timed kindnesses in someone else’s life. What I mean is that I can beat myself up for not sending a letter in the mail sooner, but maybe the person getting that letter didn’t NEED it sooner. Maybe they needed it LATER. Likewise, I can (and do) beat myself up for not working more on writing my book(s), but again, perhaps it’s just not time. How will I know it’s time to write my book(s)?

I’ll have my butt in a chair and will be writing them.

It’s that simple.

Gosh, we like to complicate things. I like to complicate things. And not that I’m encouraging procrastination or not listening to your inner nudges to act, but I am suggesting that most of our self-flagellation is just that–self-punishment. As if we won’t get things done unless we constantly berate ourselves. I’m not doing things right. I did something wrong. I’m a bad person, I’m a worm. Please, we need a new myth–the myth of I’m doing things just fine, the myth of I did something right (a lot of things right), the myth of I’m a good person, not a worm.

Living by a new myth, of course, is more than simply changing your perspective or putting on a new pair of glasses. For a myth to really make a difference in your life, you have to internalize it and you have to let it change you. May says, “We seem to think that we can be reborn without ever dying.” This means that our old personality structure must be completely torn up (or torn down) in order for a new one to be planted, take root, and grow. This is why Noah was in the Ark, Jonah was in the whale, and Christ was in the grave. Chaos always precedes order, darkness always precedes light, and death always precedes new life–and change always takes time. For me, this is where the myths are most helpful. Knowing that “destruction comes before creation,” rather than be filled with anxiety whenever my life is falling apart, I can be filled with hope. I think, It’s just a matter of time before things start coming together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

All These Things Neatly Arranged (Blog #459)

It’s one in the morning, and I’m worn the fuck out. My hips hurt, my legs hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts. Everything is throbbing. That being said, I have a distinct feeling of satisfaction, as I’ve spent the entire day organizing, decorating, and cleaning my room.

(I’m a neat freak.)

As I’ve mentioned dozens of times before, over a year and a half ago I had an estate sale and sold most of my possessions. I kept a few things, of course, mostly books, a handful of pictures, knick knacks, and can’t-live-withouts. As my original plan was to move to Austin (I’ve recently run into several people in Fort Smith who think I’m “back home,” but–joke’s on them–I never left), I’ve essentially been living out of a suitcase since moving in with my parents last February-ish. Granted, I hung my clothes in my sister’s old closet, put my underwear in a spare chest of drawers, even set up a small bookshelf. But–until today–I haven’t hung anything on the walls.

I guess I didn’t want to get too comfortable.

Sometime last year I went from sleeping in my sister’s old room to sleeping in my old room because I hoped a different bed would help my sore back. I don’t think it did, but I’ve stayed here anyway–in my old room–where I am now. Consequently, for over six months I’ve been living in two places, some of my stuff in my old room, some of my stuff in my sister’s. However, because I’m anal retentive and love order, this situation has been wearing me the fuck out. Every day I walk into this room and notice all the chachkies that aren’t mine and I don’t like looking at, all the shit hung on the wall in the wrong place “because there was a nail there,” all the family junk that’s stored in the closet.

Until today, that is. For whatever reason, this morning I had enough. I thought, Marcus, you’ve been here for over a year. You might as settle in. So that’s what I did. For over twelve hours starting this afternoon, I moved (almost) everything that wasn’t mine to another room, gathered all my worldly possessions into this one, and went to work sorting, grouping, and arranging.

My first major task was decorating the built-in bookshelves that frame my window. This was a major frustration point, since I kept looking for little collectables to decorate with but couldn’t find any BECAUSE I FUCKING SOLD EVERYTHING I USED TO COLLECT! (Whoops.) Still, I managed, and after the bookshelf project, I cleaned out a box of old birthday cards and letters I found in the closet (where I used to be). (That was a gay joke, Mom.) This was really strange, looking at twenty-five-year-old birthday cards from friends and relatives, some of whom are no longer alive. Having just been reminded that I don’t own much anymore, I wanted to hang on to every slip of paper, every fond thought and signature. But I didn’t. I kept a few things to take pictures of tomorrow, but that’s it. The rest went in the trash.

The past is over.

Of all the framed pictures and artwork I used to have, I only kept nine (my favorite number) when I had the sale. Y’all, it took me at least two hours to figure out how to hang them on the wall, but I finally did. And here’s what’s great about having these nine pictures on the wall–I love, absolutely adore–every one of them. Each one has a story, each one “made the cut” for a different reason. Even now as I type, they are hanging around me, bringing a smile to my face, helping me feel at home here.

Enjoy where you are.

I suppose this is something I haven’t wanted to admit–that I’m home again, that I’m here now. But I am here now, so I might as well act like it. That’s what today was about for me–acceptance, admitting that even though I’m not where I thought I would be at this point in my life, I can still enjoy where I am. I spend so much time in this room, so much time staring at these walls–why shouldn’t I like what I’m looking at? Currently I’m propped up in bed, and across the room is my Zac Efron wall calendar, my collection of magnets, the typewriter and cup of coffee drawing I blogged about yesterday, my vision board, and an antique swag lamp I’ve had for two years but haven’t used until tonight. All these things neatly arranged truly inspire me. Why didn’t I do this sooner? (It doesn’t mean I’ll be here forever.) Already I feel more creative, more relaxed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

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