On Receiving a Grace (Blog #1041)

It’s ten in the evening. Tomorrow morning I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn for work, which will last until well after midnight. So in an effort to blog and get to bed earlier than normal, I sat down thirty minutes ago to start writing. Alas, my internet hotspot is dragging ass, and I just got tonight’s selfie uploaded. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is. On the one night I need faster upload speeds! Oh well. Once again I’m encouraged to be patient, to accept this moment as it is. Plus, it’s not like I’m going to get a ton of sleep anyway. You know how it is when you’re revved up about something.

I’ve gotta get some sleep tonight, you tell yourself. So you don’t get any at all.

Currently I’m thinking about not trying so hard. This afternoon I bought a painting (“I think it’s a high school art project,” the lady at the vintage store said) for four dollars. Then, so I’d have something to put it in, I bought an old frame at a consignment store for eight. And whereas the frame was a little smaller than the painting, I thought, No big deal, I can trim the painting down. Since the frame was a bit beat up, I imagined this whole project, glueing it back together, spray painting it black or gold. But then I showed it to a friend of mine, and they said, “I don’t think you need to paint it all at. It matches the painting perfectly.”

All this to say that this evening after I shored up the frame with a few nails, trimmed the painting, and took a look at everything, I decided my friend was right. It looks super. And whereas I COULD fill in some cracks and do some touch-up painting on the frame, I’m going to try not to.

Why, Marcus?

Because all too often I have a tendency to overcomplicate things. Or just to complicate things. Like, this isn’t a tough project, Marcus. Clean the frame up, wipe the glass down, put the painting in, and hang the damn thing on the wall already. What’s the use in turning an hour-long task into a five-hour one?

I guess I’m USED to things being complicated or difficult. For decades I’ve read hundreds of books and tried dozens of methods and modalities all in an effort to heal mentally, emotionally, and physically. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way I got it in my head that no matter WHAT you try, it’s not going to work. But also that you HAVE to keep trying. It’s the whole story of Prometheus breaking his back rolling a boulder up the mountain. Sure, he makes it to the top, but the boulder just rolls back down to the bottom. Back to the drawing board, Prometheus.

Of course, this is frustrating and depressing.

Complicated.

Fortunately, I’m learning that things don’t have to be complicated. For example, thanks to upper cervical care, recently my body and I have made great strides with respect to headaches. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I used to dread headaches the way I dread sinus infections. Now I’m like, Oh, yeah, I remember when I used to get those. My point being that the treatment itself is simple, easy. This reminds me of something my Reiki teacher often says–“Doing the right thing IS simple. Knowing what’s the right thing to do, however, is another matter.”

Amen.

A word that’s been coming to mind lately is receive. That is, after we run around and try everything under the sun TRYING to heal, if and when we do have the blessing to find something that WORKS, it behooves us to RECEIVE it. To, rather than pushing it away because we’re used to everything being complicated, fully embrace it with simple gratitude and humility. Gratitude because your forty years in the desert is drawing to close. The Promised Land is near. Humility because no matter how much personal effort you put toward healing, you ultimately can’t make it come your way. This is why healing is always a grace, a grace that’s to be accepted with heads bowed, eyes closed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

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Between Job and Prometheus (Blog #344)

Feeling a bit better, I ventured out of the house today. Like, past the mailbox. Y’all, I actually got dressed, put on a nice pair of shoes, and went to Fort Smith to run errands. My original intention was to simply go to Kinko’s and make copies, but I ended up going to Kinko’s, the dermatologist’s office, the post office, the bank, and Walmart. I also stopped by the Department of Motor Vehicles and even went so far as to “take a number” and sit down. But as soon as I looked at the current number being serviced and realized that ninety-five people were in line ahead of me, I thought, I feel better, but not that much better, and left.

Some days you just can’t.

About the time I got to Walmart, I got a call from my friend Cameron. Cameron lives in New Mexico, and we met maybe ten years ago. Four years ago, when my life was a mess and I was just beginning therapy, Cameron came to Arkansas and helped me move. You know, he’s solid, one of those types who always insists on talking about you first. Anyway, after Warmart I headed home but took the scenic route so I could talk to Cam.

When I pulled in the driveway, it was five-thirty. And whereas I’d only been gone for two-and-a-half hours, I felt like I’d just gotten back from a sixteen-hour road trip. I came in, ate dinner, then lay down and promptly fell asleep. Now it’s just after nine, and I’m ready to go back to bed. At the same time, my body is stiff (in all the wrong places, as Grandpa used to say), and I have a headache. This is the damn thing about being sick. You spend most your time in bed because you have all the energy of a two-toed sloth, but you develop all these other problems because you’re not up moving around. Plus, you mouth-breathe when you’re congested, so not only do you wake up with a crick in your neck, but you also wake up with a tongue that has all the consistency of sandpaper.

It’s not pretty.

Dear Jesus, help.

Joseph Campbell often speaks about the Biblical story of Job. The way Campbell interprets it, God, having nothing better to do on a Friday night, makes a wager with Satan–do whatever you want to my servant Job over there (just don’t kill him), and I bet he won’t curse me. Of course, we all know how the story unfolds. Things got pretty bad for Job. Like he lost his fortune, all his children died, and he got leprosy. (Leprosy!) Talk about getting screwed. And oh yeah, his wife and friends said everything was his fault. Naturally bewildered, Job asks God, “Hey, man, what the hell?”

God’s answer? “Are you big? I am. Can you fill Leviathan’s nose with harpoons? I can. If you weren’t there when the world was created and if you didn’t create it (like I did), don’t tell me how to do things.”

In response to being served this cosmic piece of humble pie, Job backed off. He said, “I despise myself and relent in dust and ashes.” (Apparently both God and Job had a flare for the dramatic.)

Campbell compares this story to the Greek myth about Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to man, thus thwarting Zeus’s plan to destroy the human race. Naturally, Zeus was pissed. He strapped Prometheus to a rock. (I’m sure some thunderbolts were involved.) Then every day an eagle came to Prometheus and ate his liver, which regenerated itself every night so the whole process could start all over again. Talk about getting screwed. Anyway, Hermes, the famous messenger god with those fabulous winged shoes, came to Prometheus and said, “You know, if you’d just apologize and tell Zeus how great he is, this could all be over.”

Prometheus’s reply?

“Go suck an egg.”

Campbell says these stories or myths represent two totally different and irreconcilable ways of being in the world. One–the story of Job–is mystical and mysterious. It’s spiritual. The other–the story of Prometheus–is human. Campbell never says that one is better or worse than the other, but does say that most of us are with Job on our lips and with Prometheus in our hearts. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, we think we know how to run the universe. Sunday, for a couple hours, we say that God knows best. The following Monday we’re on the shrink’s couch wondering why we have problems.

In the play of life, I’m an actor–not the writer, not the director.

Earlier today my friend Marla and I were texting about all the illness that is up in my family household, and she said, “What Jumanji god did you piss off?” I said, “Seriously, I feel like Zeus has strapped me to a rock.” As I’ve said before, I’m worn out by all this. I’m over it. Honestly, there are moments when I want to tell the universe to suck an egg. Like, what did I do to deserve this? What did any of us do to deserve this? In other moments, I recognize my small stature in the universe. Just as I don’t get to decide the weather each day, I also don’t get to decide which challenges show up in my life. I hate that, but that’s the way it is. In the play of life, I’m an actor–not the writer, not the director. This is the part I’ve been given for now, and my choice is how I’m going to play it. But this is the struggle I think we all deal with daily, deciding whose team we’re on, deciding between Job and Prometheus.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Each season has something to offer.

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