These Hundreds of Thousands of Words (Blog #1094)

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Phew. All day I’ve been tired, sad. And whereas I could blame lack of sleep and a number of other things, the fact is I’ve already begun to grieve the loss of this blog. Including tonight, I only have three more posts to go. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just like when a person dies you go through all those stages–denial, anger, grief, acceptance, bargaining–I’m going through those with this. Denial because, has it really been three years? Anger because of what hasn’t happened, hopes and expectations that haven’t been met. Ugh. All the feelings. The good news being that, so much more than three years ago, I’m open to all the feelings and what they have to teach me. Sweetheart, letting go is never easy.

At times throughout this process I’ve imagined that I’d, I guess, somehow be perfectly healed, or just perfect, on the other side of this thing. And that one of my final posts would be like, here’s how I did it. And how you can too for three easy payments of $127. Alas, if anyone ever pitches you such a deal, run don’t walk away. Because the fact is that no matter what a person learns, they are always and forever still growing. Still a work in progress. As much as people like me may hate it, there is no perfect to get to. If it does exist, perfection is like the casserole I made for dinner tonight. A little bit of everything. One big delicious mess.

With cheese.

This being said, I would like to take this blog as an opportunity to “sum up” what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown as a direct result of this project. My idea being that, although I despise numbered lists and bulleted sub-headings, I’ll go through my blog “categories” one by one and write a few sentences or paragraphs about each one. As these categories became self-evident early on and new ones haven’t been added in maybe a year and a half, I’ve come to see them as themes, or what this time in my life has been all about. The lessons I’ve been learning and doing my best to embody.

So here we go. I’m just going to shoot from the hip. And I’ll try to be brief. (Yeah right, Marcus.)

1. Abundance

Ugh. Does this have to be the first one? This has been a toughy for me, since, as a result of my traumas, I grew up believing that if you love something, just wait, it’ll be taken away from you. And yet my therapist, who has a real hard on for abundance, has shoved it down my throat. Yes, things leave, but other things come around. Thankfully, I have made progress. For one thing, money isn’t terrifying to me anymore. Even though I don’t have much of it. Although now I imagine if I did I wouldn’t be scared of it. It’s just paper. The most important thing being, however, that I really do believe deep down that I’ve been given an abundance of talent, love, help, knowledge, wisdom, and resources (both internal and external) with which to make my way through life. Creatively, I’ve been given an abundance of ideas. This is what counts. I know it’s rough when your bank account is strapped, but don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

2. Affirmations

A lot of self-help books are huge on affirmations, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m beautiful, rich, and forgiving.” Or whatever. And whereas I’ve tried this shit more times than I care to admit, it hasn’t been what’s worked for me. Instead, the affirmations that have turned my life around, rather than being forced into me, have come out of me. That’s what this blog has been about. Sweetheart, be patient. I’m here for you. So if you like the idea of affirmations, go for it. But don’t open a book to find them. Open your heart.

3. Archetypes and Personalities

More and more I see the world through the lenses of “we’re all different” and “we’re all the same.” And whereas I don’t subscribe to one particular personality system, it’s helped me to be able to label people with archetypes (diva, drama queen, addict, pimp), since it allows me to get impersonal about their behavior. Or even mine. (Of course I’m worried about my outfit; I’m an artist!) Additionally, the more personality systems I study, the more I realize that every archetype and personality type is not only neutral (although it can be animated positively or negatively), but also necessary. God knows we don’t need everyone to an anal-retentive control freak. But God also knows the world would be a much sloppier place without those of us who are. (Wash your damn hands.)

4. Authenticity

This is a buzz word these days, and one my therapist actually dislikes because it’s so “hip.” To me it equates to being honest, even and especially if that honesty looks like anger, sadness, or confusion. You know, the emotions we hide behind our masks. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be something we can achieve every minute of every day (certain niceties are required in a polite society), but it is something we can strive toward. Being real. Being ourselves. My only other thought about it is that I’ve often been as surprised as anyone else when I’ve been able to be assertive or–here’s another word my therapist hates–vulnerable. Like when I cry in public or admit my faults (which, I agree with my therapist, isn’t being vulnerable, it’s being honest). Meaning we often don’t know what our authentic selves look like until they reveal themselves to us.

5. Balance

Is required and looks different for everyone. How do you know you’re out of balance in any area of your life? Your body will tell you. Learn to listen to its subtle and not-so-subtle messages. Additionally, pay attention to your relationships. If they’re full of drama, contention, or anything but an underlying peace, something is out of whack. Chances are you’ll never be able to hold the center point forever, so just keep your eyes on the middle. The rest will take care of itself.

6. Boundaries

My therapist calls boundaries the Holy Grail of personal growth. And whereas I used to think I had them, I realized I didn’t. Pro tip: if you can’t say no or if you tell the most personal details of your life to complete strangers (or vice versa), you don’t either. So get some. Learn to not only say no, but hell no. Figure out what you’re worth and don’t settle for less. Get in touch with your soul, do whatever it says, and never, under any circumstances, sell it. For one thing, it’s not yours to sell. For another, you’ll always regret it. How do you do these things? By learning to say no, hell no. And don’t worry if you “mess up.” Life will, without a doubt, give you another opportunity to excel. As with all things, having good boundaries is a process.

7. Coco’s Favorites

These blogs are my personal favorites. Many are already tagged as such, but I’ll be adding others as I work my way through reading all my old posts.

8. Creativity

People say they’re not creative, but I’m convinced we all are, even if it’s just in the way we make up a story about how we’re not creative, or what someone did that ruined our lives, or how awful things are (when they’re really not). Of course, creativity is better expressed through writing, dancing, knitting, planting, decorating, or whatever, and I’m certain our souls MUST, somehow, expand themselves through creating. So first stop and notice WHAT you’re creating (dinner, drama, dissent), then think about what you’d LIKE to be creating (an encouraging environment, a business, a hilarious blog). Then CHOOSE something different.

9. Dancing

Is good for a hundred reasons. Do it. Even if you don’t like it, consider that you were made to move. Some way, somehow. Your very heart BEATS. Tune into the rhythm of your life. If you ARE willing to give dancing a try, remember what my mentor Maggie tells her students. “Let dancing love you.” If not dancing, then let something, someone. Please, open your heart.

10. Dream Interpretation

I wish I were a master at this or had some of the experiences the people who write all those books about dreams do. Lucid dreaming, predicting the future, and whatnot. I don’t know, my therapist says I have the “most auspicious dreams,” so maybe it’s just easy to think someone else’s life is better or more fabulous than yours. Regardless, I do believe our subconscious/inner wisdom speaks to us a thousand different ways. Through dreams, synchronicities, hunches, bodily sensations, feelings, emotions, and even thoughts. So it’s whatever floats your boat, whatever you’re willing to listen to. Just know that it’s not all as random as it seems. Know that you can trust yourself. You’re wiser than you realize.

11. Emotions

Are not something you primarily think about. They’re something you primarily feel. Also, I hate to break it to you, they’re not something that go away when you shove them down. Like, they just hang out in the shadows. In your shadow. And whereas I wish I had a surefire way for coaxing them out, I’ve learned they come up when they’re ready. The best thing we can do is to listen. Be curious. Love, or at least make space for, whatever arises. Including frustration, anger, grief, sadness, and anything else that gives you snot bubbles. Because that’s your inner wisdom talking. For example, anger often means “get some damn boundaries.” (See above.)

12. Encouragement

Whatever you’re going through, I promise you’re not alone. Yes, your situation is unique to you and is your cross to bear, but it’s not the first time it’s ever happened. In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “You’re only as sick as you are isolated.” Meaning that a burden is automatically lifted when you stop trying to carry it yourself. So please know that people love you and are rooting for you. Granted, they don’t always know what to say, but I guarantee there are people who would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. People who will cry at your funeral and feel that something important, something they liked, is missing from their lives when you’re gone.

13. Facebook Live

This is where I’ve put the few live videos I’ve done and where I’ve read, out loud, other stories I’ve written. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do at least one more when this is over.

14. Gratitude

Is often something those self-help books try to force. Don’t worry, be happy. Alas, I’ve found that gratitude, like an affirmation, works best when it springs naturally from the heart. A humbling voice, it says, “Sweetheart, you have everything you could ever need and more.” What’s more, I’m convinced this voice is always there, available even when we are most down. It says, “Life sucks, but we’ve been given this breath, and with this breath we will make it to our next. Or make it home.” So again, listen to your heart. (Not your head.)

15. Growing Up

Involves letting go of the need to blame, being your own parent most of the time, taking responsibility for your life and choices, and sucks. But is absolutely necessary. Also, it’s natural. Stop fighting it.

16. Hope

As stated in The Shawshank Redemption, “is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” So please, please, please allow as much room as is humanly or even divinely possible that even your most challenging circumstance can turn around for the better. On a dime if heaven so sees fit. Along these lines, pray for miracles and expect them to show up.

17. Improv Comedy

Is worth trying or at least taking note of. Because, like life, it requires that you think on your feet, play well with others, and not look back. Audiences may not be forgiving, but improv teaches you to be. So what if the show didn’t go well? It’s over. (Everything in your life is over.) Why is this a good thing? Because now we can play another game.

18. Letting Go

Is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. Because we like what we like and we want it last. Our relationships, our stuff, our identities, our stories and judgments about ourselves and others. Our blogs. But nothing lasts. We don’t get to keep a thing. So work on enjoying whatever it is while it’s here, then letting it go. The way the sun sets, the way a storm ceases. With grace.

19. Myths and Fairy Tales

Aren’t just cute little stories. Rather, within them are embedded the mysteries of life, our personalities, and our struggles. Best thing I ever heard on this topic was that your three favorite movies reveal the path your life is on, and I believe this more and more. Recently through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) I realized one of my favorite movie characters (for almost twenty years now) was not only hung up on integrity (like I am) but was also embarrassed by his station in life (like I used to be). The idea being that you’re drawn to these characters and their stories for a reason. Your inner wisdom is nudging you forward, giving you a template for what’s possible. Be willing to take the trip.

20. Patience

Is almost harder than letting go. But is one of the most useful traits you could ever hope to develop. Because although the universe is capable of turning on a dime, it rarely does. What’s more, it rarely does what you want it to, when you want it to. Pro tip: the less you insist on having everything your way, the more patient you’ll be. So, in the words of Nancy Byrd Turner, “learn to labor and to wait.” Give yourself the gift of time. To grow. To heal. Nature does not proceed in leaps, and neither do we.

21. Perspective

If I could give everyone one gift, it would be the gift of perspective, the gift of being able to perceive whatever it is thats bothering you (including yourself) in a different way. Alas, since I can’t, go see a therapist. This is what they get paid for. But seriously, what if you could put on a pair of mystical glasses that allowed you to see everything in your life, even the rotten stuff, as heaven’s gift to you? What if you could turn your viewpoint upside down and really see that there’s nothing in your life by accident and that–if it’s there–it’s there for a reason? To challenge you, to grow you, to change you, and maybe even the world, for the better? What if you could look at the mountain you’re facing and, rather than asking God to remove it, absolutely know you were meant to climb it? And then put your boots on. This is my encouragement. Pick up a book, go to church, or bang your head against the wall, not until your circumstances shift, but until your perspective does. Because that’s when you will.

22. Relationships

Seems to be the medium through which everything happens. The bullshit, the learning, and the healing. So look alive. Like or not, no one is alone. We’re all in this together.

23. Self-Acceptance

Means coming to love yourself warts and all, not putting up such a damn front, and being gentle with yourself and others. It means accepting every part of you–even the ugly, angry, and sad parts. The weird thing? The more you accept yourself exactly as you are, the more you accept others and the world exactly as they are. And vice versa. This is why Jesus said don’t judge. Because that which you hold against someone else, sooner or later, you’ll hold against yourself. But as you accept That Which Is Unacceptable in yourself or another, That Which Is Unacceptable becomes your teacher. All parts come bearing gifts. Hold out your hands.

24. Spiritual Practice

Looks different for everyone but is something I’m convinced we all long for and participate in somehow. Maybe one person does it in the kitchen, the way they lovingly prepare the perfect meal to feed their family. Maybe another does it in a chapel. I grew up as a Christian. Last night I prayed the rosary. Now I don’t know what to call myself. More and more, the labels are unimportant. It’s the experience I’m after, the inner knowing that I’m part of something bigger than myself. The conviction that every time I take a breath, God breathes with me. I’m after what the mystics know, the truth that every life, every rock, and every molecule is both sacred and holy.

25. The Physical Body

This could be an entire series of posts. And has been. Suffice it to say that every experience we have on this planet is granted to us through our physical organism. And whereas my personal temptation has been to ignore my body’s signals (information, guidance, wisdom) or be mad it at for hurting or being sick (not good enough), I’ve learned that it is the master and I am its pupil. I am in its classroom, and I must play by its rules. So more and more I’m learning to love, honor, and take care of my body, this gift I’ve been given. Granted, it’s easy to compare yourself to others and find fault with your body, but then you miss The Mystery. Then you miss the wonder that is you.

26. Therapy and Healing

Is actually a thing. And whereas I could go on and on about different therapies and modalities I’ve tried and succeeded with, really, it all started the day I picked up the phone and called my therapist. One little choice that was really a big choice. “I think I need help,” I said. Thankfully, my therapist was a good fit for me, and her office became a safe place, a sacred place, where I could begin to put myself back together. And whereas I’ve done a lot of work on my own, I think this is a huge part of the process. Having a witness. Not someone that does the work for you, but someone who sees you and believes in you. Maybe more than you do. Someone who is willing to stick with you through it all. Another big part being what my therapist told me that first session. “For this hour we’re going to do two things: sit in truth and not judge ourselves.” So whatever path you choose, I suggest taking these two gems with you. The truth (it will set you free) and non-judgment. I promise, you’ll get further faster if you do.

27. Transformation

Is not only possible, but necessary. Just like a caterpillar can’t stay a caterpillar forever, we as humans can’t stay our old selves forever. Indeed, we’ve been designed to grow, change, transform, evolve. To forget that which is behind and press forward toward the mark. To be burned in the ashes and rise again. To die on the cross and ascend three days (or three years) later. This is written in our stories, and this is written in our cells. So just find a way to accept it. Then get on with the process. Set your foot upon The Path. Entertain the idea that you are more (insert positive adjective here) than you ever thought possible.

28. Travel Writing

Hasn’t been a huge part of my journey or this blog but is still worth mentioning. One lesson from traveling being that, just like that, the universe can take you on a trip, put someone on your path, or put you on someone else’s. Just like that, you can be in a whole new world. With a whole new perspective. JRR Tolkein said, “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or secret gate.” Believe in this magic. Trust that as one journey ends, another is beginning.

29. Writing

Isn’t for everyone, but is for everyone. At least, words are for everyone. Personally, these words, these hundreds of thousands of words, have changed my life. Once a writer friend pointed out that I was literally writing into existence the life I wanted to live. Sweetheart, hang on for one more day. Things will get better. Lately I’ve been hashtagging all my posts #healing. And whereas I’ve thought of these statements and labels as simply my way of hoping or just description, well, in the beginning was the word. Seriously. Think of the world you create when you say something is “possible” versus the world you create when you say something is “impossible.” Notice how your thoughts, feelings, emotions, attitude, and actions change depending on which world you decide to inhabit. Crazy, I know. And that’s just one little word. Now, have the words I’ve written these last three years MADE my life change? I could never prove that. But my life has changed, and surely it’s at least partly due to the fact that at some point I started telling myself a different story. A story I wanted to hear. One of healing, forgiveness, self-acceptance, hope, transformation, and transcendence. A story in which I was the hero and there was a happy ending.

And surely anyone can do this.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

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On Interesting People (Blog #1042)

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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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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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The Seeds from Which Your Strength Tree Grows (Blog #1013)

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It’s 1:50 in the morning, and I can’t stop coughing. Today I told a friend I’d been struggling with sinus stuff, and they said, “You and everyone one else.” So that’s nice to know. I’m part of a group. Gosh, it feels good to be included. But seriously, I’ve had so many upper respiratory problems over the years, it’s easy to forget that I’m not the only one, that other people catch things too. That things go around here on planet earth. But remembering that we’re all in this sickness thing together–I guess–makes it more bearable. What’s the saying? Misery loves company.

Excuse me while I hack up a lung.

The good news is that I typically don’t cough much during the day, just at night while I’m trying to blog or sleep. But take this afternoon, for example. I was able to work on framing my vintage brooches for several hours nonstop. And whereas when I first started this project things went pretty quickly because I was permanently fastening (glueing) the brooches to the backboards (old book covers), things are taking longer now because I’m non-permanently attaching (hanging) the brooches on the backboards so that, in addition to being able to display them on a wall, I can also display them on my body.

Yowza, yowza.

Here’s one I finished today.

The most difficult part about this entire process is hanging the brooch where I think it’s most aesthetically pleasing. In this particular case, the middle. And since THAT involves drilling holes in the backboard, well, I’ve really only got one shot to get it right. Now, I’ve found ways to allow myself a little wiggle room, but it’s only a little. So this is where my Inner Perfectionist comes in handy, since he helps me get the details right. And when things aren’t EXACTLY perfect? Well, then, I have to tell him to shut up. Because projects like these are meant to be fun, not self-tortuous.

One of the things I like about framing vintage jewelry using old book covers is that it’s a way to not only be creative but also breath new life into forgotten objects. I love digging through a pile of used books and, upon seeing one with a lovely cover, thinking, You! How has no one noticed you before? I’ve got just the right frame and just the right piece of jewelry to put you with, and then–I promise–you’re going to shine. That’s the deal with creativity. You have to be able to look at something someone else would throw away and see gold.

My therapist has a saying–potential, not pathology. This phrase was recently brought up in the context or our going forward. That is, rather than focusing on what’s wrong, we’re going to be focusing on what’s right. Not that there’s anything wrong with focusing on what’s wrong. Sometimes you have to know what’s broken before you can fix it. But once you’ve focused on what’s wrong (I’ve been in therapy for almost six frickin’ years now), well then, it’s time to take your broken and scattered pieces and put them back together into something new, beautiful, and useful. It’s time to breathe new life into YOURSELF. It’s time to make YOURSELF shine.

This evening while I was working, my parents were watching The Batchelor, which means I was watching The Batchelor. Anyway, after one of the girls talked about her difficult childhood (I missed all the details, but someone important died), my dad the cynic said, “WHERE do they find all these people with their sob stories?!”

“It can’t be THAT hard,” I said. “Everybody’s got one.”

But seriously, don’t we? Lately I’ve been talking about how our challenges aren’t personal, and this is what I mean. When everyone you know or are related to has had someone die of cancer, or been in a terrible car accident, or been divorced, beaten up, cheat upon, or neglected, how can you claim that your problems are unique? Now, I’m not minimizing them. They are unique to you. And important for your journey. At the same time, I AM trying to take the sting out of them. I’m trying to get you out of victim mode (pathology) and into your power (potential) by helping you see that these things–these very shitty things–simply happen on planet earth. To everyone. Because this is the shit happens to you, and you, and you planet.

Why we signed up to come here, I’ll never know. I’m convinced, as a friend of mine says, we must have missed something in the fine print.

At one point while I was working today, my dad said, “You know, you mother and I don’t always get to see you actually doing the things you like doing [like dancing, writing]. But I’ve been watching you paint and drill and glue and and everything else this afternoon, and you look absolutely content.”

“Hum,” I said, “I am content. I really enjoy this.” That’s another thing about this planet. Despite the fact that some terrible things can and do happen (and that they can and do happen to you), it’s still possible to be content, to be happy. Even while you’re coughing up a lung, it’s still possible to find peace of mind. This is one of the gifts of doing The Hard Work, of looking at the most challenging and shitty events of your life and shifting your perspective about them in such a way that they become your greatest assets, the seeds from which your Strength Tree grows. Because that’s the deal, it’s not what happens to you, but what grows out of it. It’s how YOU grow out of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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There Are Other Cards to Pull (Blog #993)

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Hum. What to say? This morning I saw my therapist then ran a few errands–returned a frame to Hobby Lobby, hit up (as in browsed around, not robbed) a used book store. Anyway, I ended up buying a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and a print–a page torn out of an art book–of a painting called Christ Discovered in the Temple by Simone Martini. In it a teenage Jesus has his arms crossed and is looking rather put upon by his parents, Mary and Joseph, who are clearly upset with his running off to teach the elders without first asking their permission. Which just goes to show that even our lord and savior couldn’t make all of the people happy all of the time.

So we might as well quit trying to.

This afternoon I met my family at Village Inn for Free Pie Wednesday. This is one of our new traditions, and–as per usual–I had WAY too much coffee with my slice of apple pie. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Regardless, by the time I left the restaurant I was wired for light and sound. Even now, at midnight, I’m buzzing. Alas, this is what balance looks like for me lately, not me always walking the middle of the road, but me sometimes overdoing it, like today, and me sometimes under-doing it, like when I fast. More and more, I’m okay with this. As my therapist is fond of saying, we like to think that life is black and white, but the truth is–it’s gray.

This evening I got a haircut (trim), then my friend Justin helped me install a new battery for my laptop. Of course, by helped me install I mean he did it for me. This being said, the battery still needs to be calibrated (charged, fully depleted, then charged again), and I’ll do that part. So, as always, it takes a village.

And a Village Inn.

Go team.

While I was at the bookstore checkout counter today, another gentleman bought a book using store credit. I guess you can bring in books to sell and, instead of taking cash for them, take a trade out. Anyway, the clerk opened a file drawer full of index cards and started searching for this guy’s last name. Then the guy said, “I’m in here all the time, so just look for the card that’s highlighted yellow at the top.” Well, sure enough, the clerk found it lickety-split, pulled it right out. “That’s cool,” he said. “We should do that for other customers.”

“Well it wouldn’t work if you did it for EVERYONE,” the guy said.

Later I was thinking about this whole interaction and how our thoughts and emotions are like the notecards in that file cabinet drawer and how each of us has certain highlighted or go-to responses for any given situation. Like, a lot of guys get ANGRY whenever something goes wrong; a lot of women CRY. Never mind the fact that there are a hundred other ways to respond to whatever’s happening, that’s their highlighted card.

So that’s the card they pull.

Personally, I often pull the “I failed / I did something wrong card” whenever things don’t go perfectly, especially if someone else is upset with me. This has been one of the huge benefits to having a therapist. Whenever I experience stress in a relationship or situation, she helps me by offering a different perspective, by suggesting I pull a different card. “Here’s another way to look at this,” she’ll say. For example, we often discuss the irritating or off-putting behaviors of people (friends, family, self-help gurus, and even ourselves), and she’ll offer a reason WHY someone might behave the way they do. This helps me not only be more empathetic and understanding, but also more kind and–this is the biggie–more at peace.

My point in all this is that MOST of the time, our responses are habitual. Someone cuts us off in traffic, we get stuck behind one of those coupon users at Walmart, or a loved one doesn’t return our text and we go down the rabbit hole of entitlement. Like Jesus’s parents, we think, This isn’t going as I planned! We see the world in black and white–MY WAY and THE WRONG WAY. Over and over again we pull the card that says, “This sucks. Life isn’t working out for me.” In the process, we forget that there are other ways to think and perceive, that there are other cards to pull. Just as easily, at least with some practice, we could pull and eventually highlight the card that says, “Sweetheart, breathe. Be patient. Everything is working out here. Everything is working out for you.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

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On How to Frame Your Past (Blog #987)

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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)

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The truth doesn’t suck.

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Me As I Am (Blog #976)

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A year ago tonight, as part of a dance routine, I jumped over my friend Matt’s head and tore my ACL. As I’ve joked since, I didn’t stick the landing. But seriously, y’all, it was an ordeal. Although I didn’t feel much pain during or after the injury, it was bad enough that I had to have surgery three weeks later (the day after Christmas) and six months of physical therapy after that. A year out, I’m proud to say I’ve come a long way. I can dance again. I can–sort of–hop. Granted, I still have trouble lowering myself down using only my left leg, but considering the fact that this time last year it took three people and fifteen minutes to change my pants, I’ll take it.

Perspective is everything.

For the last year I’ve wondered exactly what happened that night. The answer I’ve given anyone who’s asked is that maybe I landed wrong, like didn’t get feet underneath me or whatever. Maybe the floor was slick. Maybe it was my shoes. They WERE way too big for my feet. Well, until this last week I never had the courage to watch the video and find out. (That’s right, my disaster was caught on film.) I kept thinking, I don’t want to WATCH my body falling apart. But this last week I finally got the guts. I thought, The worst is over, I can handle it. I want to know what happened.

So I watched the video.

Best I can tell, I didn’t get quite high enough, then my left foot landed before my right one on a bit of an angle. Then the worst happened. Check out the still from the video below. It looks like I’m impersonating Elvis Presley, but in fact my left knee is going out to lunch. Don’t worry–I’m NOT going to share the actual video (but our rehearsal from the night before is posted at the conclusion of tonight’s blog). The injury is honestly not TOO painful to watch, but it’s not comfortable either. The difficult part I have trouble viewing is the rest of the routine, in which my face flinches and my body flops around like a fish out of water. I guess I’m embarrassed to show it. Still, looking back, I’m proud I finished the routine at all. Once it was over, I couldn’t even stand on my own. Matt had to assist me off the dance floor, at which point I sat down and didn’t stand unassisted for over two weeks.

In other words, I’m pretty much a badass for not collapsing as soon as the injury occurred.

I’ve spent most of today lying in bed, resting and watching Lindy Hop videos. There’s a big competition this weekend, and they’re live-streaming the finals for all the contests. Before my injury, I would have been jealous. I would have compared myself to the best in the world and thought, They’re so much better than I am. I wish that were me. Having survived last year’s trauma, however, now I’m just happy to be able to dance at all. Several of the couples I watched today–honestly–screwed up some of their lifts. Nobody I saw limped off the dance floor, but the fact is that even if you’re an awesome dancer and rehearse something a hundred times, things can still go wrong. Shit happens. Your life can change in the blink of an eye.

So be grateful.

I’ve thought about this a lot today, the idea that we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others. And for what? Recently I’ve been culling my Facebook friends, and a number of the people I’m digitally divorcing are people I’ve looked up to, been jealous of, and wanted approval from for one reason or another. Alas, for all my wanting to be seen by and approved of by these people, I’ve gotten peanuts. (They have their own problems.) This is just as well. I could spend the next ten years wanting someone else’s talent, and it will never be mine because it belongs to them. (What’s theirs is theirs and what’s mine is mine.) Absent my judgment of or wanting something from someone else, their talent IS mine, in that I get to watch and enjoy it. This is what I’ve really leaned into this last year–I know what I’ve got and I know what I don’t got, and that’s okay. Talent or no talent, looks or no looks, knees that work or don’t, I have everything I need in order to love, be loved, and be happy. In short, I have me.

Not me as I wish I were, but me as I am.

This is enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

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I took the above photo several years ago from the window of my old dance studio. (Facebook reminded me about it today.) Back then I was on the second story of a cool building in Historic Downtown Van Buren. Sometimes after everyone else left I’d sit in the window or crawl out on the roof and watch traffic go by and stare at unaware pedestrians, maybe while listening to Jamie Cullum or smoking a cigarette. Especially on evenings when the sun was setting and the sky was a Crayon box of colors, it was like my little piece of heaven. I don’t miss many things about the studio now, but I miss that spot and the feeling I had sitting there. As The Drifters so accurately said, “On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be.”

Last night I went to bed sick with sinus junk. And whereas I was hoping my probiotics would heal me during the night, they didn’t do crap, which means I woke up with more (really colorful) junk this morning. This was frustrating, but not completely disheartening. I have, after all, been down this road dozens and dozens of times before, and my body always eventually finds its balance. A word that’s been popping up in my experience the last twenty-four hours is harmony, the idea of everything working together in unison. This is what I’m hoping for–harmony in my sinuses, harmony in my body. It’s what I’m praying for. It’s what I’m working toward.

Despite my having a head full of phlegm, today has been lovely. I saw my therapist this morning, ate a tasty salad for lunch, then spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, reading, learning. Then I ran all over town in search of MORE probiotics to hopefully help my sinuses. This mission was only mildly successful–I found one new thing to try–but that’s okay. I enjoy the hunt, the trial and error. Do I enjoy hacking and coughing in the meantime? Hell no. But I have noticed the last few months that being sick carries less of a “charge” for me than it used to. What I mean is that I used to really freak out, worry, and stress every time I got sick. I’d think that God was punishing me, that if I were only a better or smarter person I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Now most of that guilt and fear is gone. I still get sick, I just don’t beat myself up about it like I did before. Plus, I have more hope. Over a year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted three months. It was hell, but I made it. So I know whatever happens from here on out, I’ll make that too.

One of the things my therapist and I discussed today was abundance, which is something she deep-down believes in and something I think sounds good if you say it fast. That being said, I’m coming around to the idea. Anyway, she’s recently been sick also, and she said that when you’re an independent operator (who gets paid by the hour) and get sick and can’t work, it’s easy to question the notion that you’re always supported by God or the universe. “But we are,” she said. “We always have more than we need.”

“I have more snot than I need,” I said.

I told my therapist that recently I’ve had some strong emotional reactions to things. For example, I got immediately angry when someone sent me a text message. I got squirmy when someone else asked me to do a certain odd job. And whereas I knew that my emotions were information from my intuitive system saying respectively, “Stand up for yourself,” and, “Run, Will Robinson,” my therapist suggested thinking of my emotional reactions as “tells.” Like, in the future when I become immediately angry or squirmy, I’ll know it’s my gut’s way of communicating, “Look alive, kid.” She said she has her tells for knowing when a potential client won’t work out and always regrets it when she goes against her inner guidance.

I realize I’m jumping around here, but this is how my therapy sessions work. Shit happens in between visits, and I make a note about it. Then when I finally see my therapist, I hop from note to note. One minute we’re talking about comedians on Netflix (we both have a thing for stand-up), the next minute we’re talking about a confrontation I’ve had or need to have, and the next minute we’re talking about relationships. Today she said, “Relationships aren’t for punks.” This came up because I’ve had a number of friendships fizzle out over the last several years and sometimes still feel gross about it. I think, Who was right and who was wrong? Am I being stubborn? Am I holding a grudge? But as my therapist explained, “Relationships are real messy. Both parties have to be adults. They have to be willing to own their shit and apologize when necessary.”

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to look back at photos and think, Those were the good old days. Bitch, please. There’s no such thing. Sure, there might have been something in your past that you enjoyed and wish you could experience again, but–I swear–it wouldn’t be the same even if you could. Additionally, we forget that life–our past, present, and future–is always a mixed bag. I miss sitting on the roof at my old dance studio. I miss that peaceful feeling. However, I don’t miss the drama of owning the studio or my lack of self-awareness at the time. Back then I had a great view of downtown, but a piss-poor view of myself and my relationships. Largely thanks to therapy and this blog, now my perspective has shifted dramatically for the better. Doing The Hard Work has made all the difference. Now I can get that peaceful feeling anywhere–because it’s inside me. Not just on the roof.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing is set in stone here.

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For Anyone Who Suffers (Blog #318)

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Last night I drove to Fayetteville to have dinner with friends. I was running late, but that’s usual. They expect that. At least they tolerate it. Hold on, back up. I drove almost to Fayetteville. There was a wreck several miles outside of town. It was raining, and the temperature was below freezing. That must have been it. I didn’t see the wreck, but I heard later it was bad. Really bad. A multiple-car pile up.

For about an hour, I didn’t move an inch. After that, things were slow going. Eventually, I got to a point on the interstate where policemen usually hide and clock people’s speed. A policeman, standing in the rain, was directing everyone to turn around. “It’s completely blocked,” he said. “Go back to Winslow and take the business route.” So that’s what I started to do, but in less than a mile, my car, Tom Collins, hit a small patch of ice on a bridge. I was okay, but it was enough for me to get the message. I called my friends and said, “I just can’t make it tonight.”

Before much longer, the check-engine light on Tom Collins started blinking. I thought, Perfect. Stopping at the nearest gas station, I Googled the problem and found out it could be any number of things. One post said, “Don’t drive more than a few miles, and don’t drive at highway speeds.” Twelve miles from home and pulling back onto the highway, I once again thought, Perfect.

I made it home.

In an effort to stop worrying about potential car-repair costs, I buried my face in a book last night, then took to Netflix and watched a documentary called The Truth About Alcohol. Don’t watch it. They say alcohol is bad for you.

This morning I woke up sick. Bad sick. Like could be the big, bad f-word sick. Mom and Dad have been hacking the last few days, and Mom said her temperature was up last night. When I woke up at seven-thirty (five hours ago), I was freezing. When I woke up four hours later, hot. I’m not hacking, but I’m wiped out, super icky. Just before I started this post I sat on the bathroom floor and dry-heaved into the toilet.

I’m glad we can talk about these things.

Now I’m back in bed, vertical, and blogging from my phone, punching out one letter at a time with my thumbs. I’d intended to make this a three-word post (shit, the flu), but I couldn’t help myself. I hope I don’t come across as some sort of blogging martyr. This is how I process things.

That line above–I couldn’t help myself. That’s probably one of the most frustrating feelings in the whole world, to feel like you’ve done everything you can to get your life together but that everything, including you, keeps falling apart and all you can do about it is lie in bed and wait for the night to descend.

I’m telling myself I could have it worse. Way worse. Like those people in the pile up last night worse. I have friends who were stuck in that traffic for three hours, so it must have been ugly. I do think that perspective helps a little. At the same time, perspective has never taken my immediate pain away. Perspective doesn’t help me stand up without feeling woozy or help my head stop throbbing. Still, perhaps it does help me find compassion for both myself and others, for anyone who suffers.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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the story of my success (blog #4)

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A couple of months ago, I discovered this fabulous place called the library. Oh my god, you guys, you can get books FOR FREE.

To be clear, I’ve always known about the library, it’s just that I only recently started using it because I don’t have a job and borrowing books is cheaper than buying them. My friend Marla says that the books at the library are “filthy” and “gross,” but I try not to think about that.

So far, I haven’t developed any rashes.

When I first started using the library, I kept saying that I was “renting” books, but my (grammatically superior) best friend Justin, who insists on the correct use of language and also prefers three-syllable words to two-syllable words, said the word I was actually looking for (even though I didn’t know I was looking for it) was “borrowing.”

Here’s a recent picture of me, Justin’s wife, and Justin (in order of appearance). All three of us used to live together a few years ago before the two of them decided to get married, and, consequently, I had to move. (Geez.)

Well, anyway. Thanks to the local library, today I finished Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers: The Story of Success. The book basically proposes that successful people like Bill Gates and The Beatles really can’t take all the credit for their success (and most successful people don’t even try to). Malcolm says that success, sure, depends on hard work, but it often hinges on many factors beyond the control of the individual. For example, he details how (and why): the most successful hockey players are born in the month of January, the most successful lawyers are Jewish, and the people who are best at math are Asian.

If you want more details, you’ll have to check the book out for yourself. (Have you heard of a library?) But suffice it to say, Malcolm says that successful people are almost always the recipient of some good fortune, like parents who take an active role in their child’s education, being born in a culture that values getting up early and working hard, or even being a minority (something that works out well for comedians).

What I liked about the book is that it caused me to reshape my perspective on success, as well as focus on those things in my life that have helped mold me into a better person and perhaps give me some sort of advantage or good fortune. I know, you’ve got to be thinking, “Tell me, how DID you become single, jobless, and lucky enough to live with your parents–all before the age of forty?” And whereas you might have a point there, and whereas I understand the tendency to focus on what isn’t going right and the successes that haven’t occurred, I also understand that my therapist doesn’t put up with whiners. So (at least for this post), I’ll be focusing on the successes that have. As Stuart Smalley says, “An attitude of gratitude–it’s not just a platitude.”

About a year ago, the local Montessori school held a fundraiser, and the guest of honor was Sister Kevin Bopp, the woman who founded the Montessori school in Fort Smith. Both my sister and I attended Montessori, and I can’t say enough about the experience. For one thing, we never had to sit in desks. Instead, we got to move around the room, sit in a corner and read, gather together in the middle of the floor and make crafts. I remember learning how to make a bed, how to pack a suitcase, how to ask a friend if they wanted to sit down and have a snack. (All of these skills continue to come in handy.) Almost everything at Montessori was hands-on, self-directed learning. Teachers were there, of course, and sometimes we’d all work together, but I don’t ever remember it feeling like a lecture or a chore. Actually, I remember it being fun.

When I told my mom and my sister about my plans to go to the fundraiser honoring Sister Kevin, they told me their memories about her. My mom said Sister Kevin used to wait for all the children to arrive each morning, bending down so she was on their level, greeting them each by name. She said that once my sister was homesick, so Sister Kevin let my mom come to the school and wait in another room, so my sister could see her and feel more secure. My sister said she remembers showing up to school one year on St. Patrick’s Day without any green on, and Sister Kevin gave her something green to wear. It may seem like a little thing, but it wasn’t a little thing for my sister.

As I’m sure you know, kindness is never a little thing.

When I saw Sister Kevin last year, I said, “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Marcus Coker.” And then Sister Kevin smiled and said, “Marcus Coker–from Van Buren.” Later, she reached up and tussled my hair and said, “I could never forget those curls.” (I honestly don’t think that I had curls as a child, but whatever. It’s still sweet.)

That night, I heard a lot of stories about Sister Kevin, and the one thing that everyone remembered about her was how much she loved each and every child. Later, when I got in my car to leave, I started crying because I realized what an impact her love and the school she started had had on me. I realized how fortunate I was to end up in a place that taught and modeled respect for yourself, respect for others, and respect for things. It’s like I’d been carrying around these values for thirty years, and I finally was able to see, at least in part, where they came from. And I started thinking about how I was encouraged to be curious and to an independent learner, to think outside the box, and how my life as an adult might look different if I’d been forced to sit in a desk all day when I was child. Like, maybe I wouldn’t have been a dance instructor or a studio owner because I wouldn’t have had the courage to figure things out as I went or because I would have been taught a more traditional way of doing things, a way that wasn’t as fun.

As I think about it now, I’m especially grateful that I was encouraged to be curious because I think that’s why I keep going back to the library, why I read Malcolm Gladwell. In another of his books (David and Goliath), Malcolm says that often what we think of as disadvantages are actually advantages. So I think if I weren’t curious, it’d be easy to get stuck thinking that the circumstances of my life right now suck and they suck, period. But even Joseph Campbell says that there was a five-year period in his life when he was unemployed and all he did was read. Looking back, he says that period was absolutely essential for all his later success.

I make a lot of jokes about my life right now, but the truth is, I don’t know whether what’s happening is good or bad. My friend Craig, who’s a retired therapist, says that he hates it when people say “baby steps” because there’s not such thing as a small step. Life, he says, is like a puzzle. Every piece is important. So for all I know, this period in my life might be absolutely essential. And maybe thirty years from now, I’ll look back and see it like I see that time with Sister Kevin and Montessori–a time to be curious, a time of learning, a time to love.

[One more thing. If you happen to know Malcolm Gladwell or happen to be Malcolm Gladwell, I have a few follow-up questions I’d like to ask about success–if you’re willing, of course. I’m not currently in the habit of getting up early, but I’d be glad to make an exception if you’re only available in the mornings. Either way, thank you so much for your work.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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