Y’all, today was another great day. Well, except for the fact that I had to wake up at six-fifteen. In the morning. But really–and I wouldn’t want this information to get around–I can actually function at early hours. Who knew? The sunrise doesn’t kill me. Like, I didn’t turn to stone, melt, or anything. I just dragged my luggage downstairs, hopped in a car, and off we went–out of Memphis and into the heart of Western Tennessee. (This press tour is all over the map.) Our first stop, about an hour outside of Memphis, was Brownsville, the home of the Delta Heritage Center and Tina Turner Museum. (Tina was born nearby.) It was great. Again, this is such a cool gig–they had donuts and coffee waiting for us.
I’m getting so fat.
Leaving Brownsville, we drove another hour or so to Union City, home to Discovery Park of America, basically a hands-on science museum for kids, but so much more. There’s a collection of arrow heads and old cars, a Japanese garden, and even an earthquake simulator. The park was started by the founder of Kirkland’s, the home goods store. (He was born in Union City and donated a hundred million dollars to the museum in order to give back to his community.) After eating lunch at the museum, we only had an hour or so to look around, but it really was a treat. A new friend of mine took the above photo of me with the Buddha, and later we both went down the world’s second-fastest slide, which was cleverly disguised as a giant metal man. (See the picture below. You enter just below his neck on the third floor and exit out his left leg on the second.)
Whoosh!
When we left Discovery Park, we went to Reelfoot Lake–uh–somewhere not too far away from Union City. (I wasn’t driving.) Reelfoot used to be only swamplands, but turned into a fourteen-thousand-acre lake about two hundred years ago after a series of earthquakes changed the topography of the land and the flow of the Mississippi River. Anyway, we spent the rest of the afternoon there, riding around on a pontoon boat, checking out the cypress trees and various birds. Notice in the picture below that the cypress tress spread out at the bottom and even grow their roots ABOVE the water in order to survive in such wet conditions.
We even got to see a few bald eagles, which the park rangers had in captivity because they were injured. Here’s a picture of one. Notice that it only has one foot. (That’s how they found it.) Another fun fact–bald eagles have a pretty wimpy, squeaky-toy-like screech. Not scary at all. For this reason, many movies that feature bald eagles dub over the cry of a red-tailed hawk, since it’s much more bitchin’ and intimidating.
For dinner we drove into Jackson, Tennessee, and ate at Rock N Dough Pizza and Brewery. It was awesome–cool atmosphere, a great staff. But OMG, I had so many carbs–salad, bread sticks, pizza, some donut thing for dessert, and beer. (I’ve got to get a grip.) Still, it was FRICKIN’ delicious. Plus, I DID have the flu for three weeks, so I figure this is all about balance. I can afford to indulge for a week.
Now we’re all settled into our respective hotel rooms (in Jackson), and I for one am ready to pass out. This trip is amazing, but it’s go-go-go, and tomorrow will be another full day. In other words, Daddy needs to wrap this up and get a solid-night’s rest. But seriously–it’s ten at night and I’m getting ready to go to bed? What has happened to me? (The sunrise–that’s what has happened to me.) Okay, I’m off to brush my teeth. May all your best memories involve carbohydrates and bald eagles.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.
Yesterday I drove to Sapulpa, Oklahoma, to meet my friend Elisabeth and visit The Eyeball Oracle, an iridologist named Phyllis who owns and works at Rock Creek Herb and Vitamin Company. An iridologist is someone who identifies problems in your body by looking at your eyeballs. (I’m not making this up. It’s on Google.) Since I arrived early, I was the first in line. When Phyllis showed up two hours later, there were at least a dozen other people behind me. As I understand it, this is pretty common with Phyllis, who’s been practicing iridology for over forty years (she learned from her grandfather, who learned from his father) and never charges for her services.
Y’all, it was fascinating–and easy enough, at least for me. After introductions, I sat in a chair and stared out a window while Phyllis looked at my eyes from a few feet away. For maybe a minute or two, Phyllis took notes, stating that we’d first talk about what she observed, then there’d be time for questions. Get this shit. The first thing she said was, “Have you ever had an injury to your left leg or had pain in your right hip?” I said, “Well, the right hip has been a major problem these last several years, and when I was a kid my left leg was twisted, although it never hurts now.” She said, “That’s what created the imbalance, though.”
Phyllis recommended two products for my muscles and ligaments, one of which was a blend of calcium and magnesium and came up later when we discussed my sometimes-nightly leg jerks. In addition to my left leg/right hip issue, Phyllis and I went through eight things or categories she observed in my eyes–thyroid, pancreas, PH of colon, left kidney, stomach/digestion, right adrenal, heart, and (I think) memory/focus. (That was a joke.) For each thing we talked about, Phyllis had recommendations. For my thyroid, which she said contributed to my feeling of being overwhelmed at times, it was two supplements (amino acids) and one vitamin (D3). For my colon, it was black cherry juice (1/3 cup a day). This is something I appreciated, that there was just as much advice about diet (eat things that are red, green, and purple, not things that are white and yellow) as there was about herbs and vitamins.
The diet recommendations, Phyllis said, came from the Blood Type Diet, a theory which proposes that each blood type (A, B, AB, and O) should eat differently. She said, “When I was a child, my grandfather would put all this food on the table and say, ‘What does YOUR body want?'” Phyllis guessed my blood type as A. It’s actually O. There were a couple things like this, observations she had that didn’t “hit home” for me. For example, when she talked about my pancreas and asked if I ever felt my blood sugar drop, I said, “Not really. Sometimes I get light-headed, but it’s better when I stay hydrated and keep my electrolytes, like salt, up.” Phyllis didn’t seem fazed by this, and she wasn’t pushy, which I respected. On my paper under pancreas/blood sugar, she wrote, “Good.”
By the time we got to the end of Phyllis’s list, nothing had been said about my sinuses, which have been my major complaint these last few months and, well, my entire life. When I asked about them, Phyllis–first of all–didn’t say any of the things I’ve been afraid of hearing, things like, “You’re covered in mold,” “You have a yeast infection,” or, “You have an auto-immune disorder.” She didn’t tell me I was beyond hope or repair. Rather, she said that following the Blood Type Diet should help with allergies and mucus production, and the other products already discussed should help with overall immune function. Then she recommended a few products, two of which I’ve never tried before. At the end of the session, she gave me all her notes, on which she’d starred the “priority items.” She said, “Start with your sinuses if you want. Work on your muscles and ligaments later. Come back in six weeks, and we’ll see where you’re at.”
Here’s one of the four pages Phyllis gave me. I chose this one to share because I spent all day yesterday thinking she’d written “Carlos” under “Right Adrenal.” I kept thinking, What’s he doing there? Is that the guy who started The Blood Type Diet? Then last night I realized she’d actually written “Carbs,” as in, eat the good ones–not the bad ones. Carbs, Marcus, not Carlos. But I guess the advice would apply either way.
After I saw Phyllis, a couple other people went, then Elisabeth did. “She told me I had eyes that were sweet and kind,” Elisabeth said. “Well,” I replied, “She certainly didn’t tell me that.”
Not that I’m bitter.
The entire time I was with Phyllis, I never felt pressured to buy any products from her shop. That’s something a lot of the online reviews are clear about. If you want to go and just get your eyes read, you’re more than welcome to. That being said, I did end up buying five things Phyllis recommended–two for my sinuses, two for my thyroid, one for my muscles. I’d told Elisabeth, “Please don’t let me buy the entire store,” and she came through. She said, “You already have that and that, just different brands, and you can wait on that and that and try them later if you want.” By the time it was all over, I spent about as much as I would to see a doctor at a walk-in clinic, a little more than a hundred bucks. At Phyllis’s suggested dosages, I’ll need to restock some of the products in two or three weeks, but that won’t cost any more than all of the other shit I’ve tried these past few months, certainly not more than some antibiotics. None of those things, by the way, have made a remarkable impact on my health.
Phyllis said I should notice a difference within 72 hours, so I started taking the pills before I left the parking lot. One of the ones for my sinuses had eucalyptus in it, and within twenty minutes I could not only smell it, but also taste it when I burped. Now it’s less than twenty-four hours later, and whereas my sinuses aren’t completely dried up, they are better. Likewise, the dark circles under my eyes are lighter, and (I think) there’s less histamine in my face. Maybe I’m just hoping, but I can definitely tell something’s going on–there are sensations, pulses, in my legs and feet that aren’t normally there. I don’t know another way to say it.
I’ll continue to keep you posted, but here’s this, maybe the most notable difference–I woke up feeling great today. I’ve been off-and-on sick, gross, and dragging ass for over ninety days, but–simply put–I’ve been happy today. I’ve had good energy, I haven’t been tired behind my eyes, and I’ve felt like my problems are manageable, my body is capable of health, and the world is full of possibilities. This is no small thing, of course–huge progress. While making breakfast I was singing and dancing along with Macklemore. I feel glorious–glorious–got a chance to start again.
Part of me is dismissing what happened yesterday, thinking I wasted my time and threw my money away–again. I’ve been thinking, It’s just a coincidence, Marcus. You woke up feeling pretty decent yesterday. Maybe you were already healing. Still, here’s what I know. I’ve been working my ass off for over three months trying to get better–reading books, buying vitamins, doing visualizations. Most of this has been on my own, and it’s been exhausting. But this week is about changing that. Yesterday I saw Phyllis, and I see a new medical doctor later this week in order to cover all my bases. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all the help and guidance, from wherever it comes–from a lady who looks into my eyes, from a bottle of vitamins, whatever. From above. It’s good to feel better, of course, but it’s even better to know you’re not alone down here.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.
Currently it’s 9:15 in the morning, and I’m in Somewhere, Oklahoma, waiting to see The Oracle.
Let me back up.
I woke up at five this morning, although my alarm wasn’t set to go off until six. You know how it is when you’re both eager and anxious about something. You can’t sleep. Plus, the waterbed was especially hot last night, and my legs kept jerking. They do that sometimes, go into these violent, sudden twitches just as I’m starting to nod off. It’s startling, maybe related to my magnesium levels. Of course, the internet could be wrong–it’s been wrong before. The body is a mystery. Anyway, at five-thirty I decided there was no point in continuing to try to slumber, so I got up, got dressed, meditated, wrote in my journal, and made breakfast and a full pot of coffee in preparation for my big day.
Last week my friend Elisabeth messaged me and said she’d been hearing a lot about a woman near Tulsa who practices iridology, a field of alternative medicine that basically identifies problems in one part of your body based on the appearance of another–specifically, your eyeballs. Like–I don’t know–that fleck there means your liver is broken and is in need of repair. (Take this vitamin, do a colon cleanse, and call me in the morning.) Elisabeth said four different people had recommended this lady, that she was thinking about going, and that I should go too. (If I wanted.) “Maybe she could help with your allergy and sinus issues,” she said. Well, on the scale of weird things I’ve tried over the years, eyeball gazing actually ranks pretty low, so I said, “I’m in. Let’s go tomorrow.”
Since the vitamin shop where the iridology lady works ended up being closed last week, I’ve been on pins and needles ever since, just waiting for today. I’ve spent a lot of time reading reviews online, and everyone that talks about this lady absolutely raves. They call her The Oracle. (Personally, I like The Eyeball Oracle.) They say they’ve been seeing her since they were a child, she’s always spot on, she helped when no one else could–shit like that. So I’m hopeful. That being said, this isn’t my first alternative medicine, stranger-things-have-happened rodeo, so I’m trying to keep both feet grounded in reality. I’ve mentioned recently that I’m seeing a new medical doctor this week, and that’s still happening. I’ve been telling myself, Do your weird shit first, get all the information you can, then go talk to someone who went to college.
Like, “Doc, a Native American told me my liver was broken. Fact or crap?”
On the drive here this morning, I listened to my new favorite podcast, The Moth. If you’re not listening to it, you’re missing out. It’s basically real people telling stories about anything and everything, without notes, in front of a live audience. It’s delicious. This morning I heard a story about a girl who grew up with a mom who was both a nudist and a stripper. The story started when her mom stripped for her and her brother one evening as her step-father manned the music. This reminded me that there is no such thing as normal–there’s only “normal for you.”
Another story I heard earlier was about a gay actor and writer in California who had two different psychics tell him that Montgomery Clift, the famous actor, was trying to communicate with him from beyond the grave, trying to get the man to write his story. (Clift was closeted, and apparently both he and the man had had facial reconstruction following respective accidents.) Whether you believe that something like this is possible or not, the story really is fantastic to hear, and as the host of The Moth pointed out, is true to the person who told it.
Now I’m inside the shop, waiting. The lady isn’t scheduled to be here for quite a while, but the online reviews said to show up early, so that’s what I did. At first, I was the only one waiting. Now there are two other ladies, and Elisabeth is on her way. We’ll see what happens. Originally I’d intended to blog after this person looks into my eyes, looks deep into my eyes, but I’ve decided to make this a cliffhanger and post about the results tomorrow. But I’ve been thinking, This is a little crazy, but the universe is a big place. How do we know what’s possible? Who’s to say what’s “normal”? Maybe a dead movie star can talk to a stranger. Maybe a medicine woman can look into my eyes and reveal my body’s secrets. I’m open to it. After all, the universe, like the body, is a mystery. Of course, I’m trying to stay grounded in reality, but am more and more open to what reality can look like.
