On Being Lighter Inside (Blog #1055)

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Here’s something cool that’s come as the result of the healing work I’ve been doing these last few years. Last week when I saw my therapist and she brought up the subject of money (like, how to make some), I didn’t want to crawl under the table. Two years ago, I would have. At the very least I would have listened to her suggestions and thought, That may be fine for someone else, but it’ll never work for me. But last week, strangely enough, I was like, Okay, yeah, I can do that. The cool thing being that I haven’t been consciously TRYING to get more comfortable discussing personal business strategies. At least not lately. And yet somewhere along the way I apparently lightened up around the topic.

This being said, today when my therapist encouraged me to set financial goals, I started to squirm. Now, let’s be clear, I didn’t aim for the floor. I just shifted in my seat. Still, I can see that I haven’t COMPLETELY lightened up when it comes to thinking about my financial future and how I want to get there (uh, in a limousine, please). That is, there’s still some heaviness around the subject.

Along the lines of lightness and heaviness, last night I read a short story by H.G. Wells called The Truth about Pyecraft, Pyecraft being an extremely fat chap of a man who ingests a magic potion in order to lose weight. Alas, the magic potion turns out to be a stickler for words. Instead of losing FAT, Pyecraft only loses weight, like the thing that, along with gravity, holds you down. Still the same size as he was before, Pyecraft begins to float, all the way to the ceiling. Of course, this is a damn nuisance, not at all what he’d hoped for. And yet he can’t undo the spell, so he does the next best thing: he puts lead in his underwear. The next thing you know, he’s back on the ground. Still big as a barn, he’s actually light as a feather. THIS is the truth about Pyecraft, the truth only he and one other person know.

And me and you too, of course.

I’ve been thinking about this story a lot today, about how it’s really quite literal. Not in a physical sense, but in a psychic sense. That is, regardless of how much our scales say we weigh, we all have histories and issues that weigh us down and cause us to be mentally and emotionally heavy. THIS is the truth about Pyecraft, that you can’t judge a person’s psychic weight by their body. Someone could be the size of a junior high cheerleader and have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Conversely, someone could weigh four hundred pounds and not be worried about a thing.

More and more, I’m more concerned with psychic weight than I am with physical weight. Not that I want to let myself go, but my psychic weight has caused me more issues than my physical weight ever has. My issues around money, being good enough, being terrified (of life)–these are the things that have weighed me down, really kept me from soaring. This, I assume, is the case for all of us, that it’s not what’s visible that keeps us from moving forward, but rather what’s invisible. Our secrets. Fortunately, there are ways to lighten up, to heal. Especially in today’s world of abundant and mostly free information. (For those interested, here’s a website I ran across recently that lists books and therapies about healing trauma, many of which have been helpful to me.) Now, obviously you have to put in the time. You’ve gotta do The Hard Work. But it’s worth it. Any effort you put to being lighter inside is worth it. It’s the difference between It’ll never work and Yeah, I can do that. And that’s everything.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Aren’t you perfect just the way you are?

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On What We’re Capable of (Blog #1048)

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Today I saw my therapist, and we talked about scarcity versus abundance. Mainly because over the last year I’ve had a number of “dodgy” clients who haven’t been up front about what they wanted and/or have tried to manipulate me into doing more work than we originally agreed to. “I can’t figure out if the universe wants to you learn a lesson,” my therapist said, “of if it’s just that you live in a psychic field of scarcity that affects everyone in it.” Later we talked about how for the last several years I’ve done a lot of odd job work and about how, although I’m grateful for the work because it’s kept me afloat and allowed me to focus on writing, I’d really rather be doing other things. “I want to make my living as an artist,” I said. “I have gifts to give and want to give them.”

“And be paid an appropriate amount for them,” my therapist added.

I don’t know that me and my therapist reached an exact conclusion on this matter. She did suggest being “friends” with my money as much as possible. You know, taking care of it, not being so afraid to count what I have or don’t have. Mostly I mention all this because I imagine that there are other people like me who 1) struggle with the idea of abundance and 2) wish they could make a living with their gifts and talents but continuously find themselves “just getting by” through other means.

“I’ve been just getting by for a while now,” I told my therapist.

“It’s probably bordering on intolerable,” she said.

Accurate.

I guess this post is partly about hope, the idea that even if you’ve struggled with something for a while, it can still turn around. This afternoon I saw my upper cervical doctor and told his secretary that although I’m still not perfect (something is pinched in my shoulder), I’ve only had one headache in the last month. This down from as many as four or five a week only three months ago. Seriously, they were so bad I was beginning to think nothing could help them. This is just the way it is, and all that. And y’all, I still think that about a handful of problems and challenges in my life, including my work and finances. But if one longstanding pain in the ass can turn around, so can another.

And another and another and another.

This evening I’ve been thinking about how we really don’t know what we and our bodies are capable of until we experience it. Sure, we can read about miraculous healings in books (or on blogs), but until WE experience something phenomenal in OUR body, it’s just not the same. Three months ago immediately following my first upper cervical adjustment I felt my body release emotions and shift and move itself in ways I never had before. Indeed, it was like a science fiction movie, something I didn’t think was possible. Not because my body wasn’t designed to do it, but because I didn’t KNOW my body was designed to do it.

Along these lines, much of the growth I’ve experienced through therapy has looked like me going, “I didn’t know I could do that.” This morning my dad said, “You like to confront people.” Well, it’s not that I LOVE it, I just despise the alternative, stuffing everything down, playing games, being passive aggressive. Better said, I’ve simply seen that these strategies cause more pain that they’re worth. My point being that five years ago no one would have ever said that I liked to confront people. They would have called me an avoider, a peace maker. Even I would have thought, I can’t. I just can’t confront. It’s not who I am. But having spoken up successfully on dozens of occasions, I now know that I was wrong about myself.

I just didn’t know what I was designed to do (that is, be honest).

Today my upper cervical doctor said that my nervous system looked out of whack. “You really need an adjustment,” he said, “but I’m not going to give you one.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Well, look at this,” he said, pointing to my patient history. “Here we adjusted you, and you went two weeks just fine. Then we adjusted you, and it was two more weeks. Then we adjusted you again, and here we are two weeks later. So your body’s in a pattern. It’s EXPECTING the adjustment to only last two weeks.”

“So your hope is that by going another week without an adjustment my nervous system will figure out that it’s supposed to be taking care of things without your help?” I said.

“Exactly,” he said.

Now, there’s part of me that wishes my doctor had made a correction today. Like, it might have helped my shoulder. Sitting here now, I could be more comfortable. But I’m reminded that a certain amount of discomfort isn’t necessarily a bad thing. So often we find ourselves in unproductive patterns–ways of thinking about money and ourselves, ways of acting–and stay in them because they ARE comfortable, familiar. And whereas challenging ourselves to step out of these patterns may be scary, it’s absolutely necessary if we want to discover what we’re really capable of.

This is, of course, more than we ever thought possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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Trust That Answers Are Coming (Blog #980)

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Today I finished reading three books–Esoterism & Symbol by R. A. Schwaller de Lubicz, The Hanged Man: Psychotherapy and the Forces of Darkness by Sheldon Kopp, and The Power of Your Other Hand: A Course in Channeling the Inner Wisdom of the Right Brain by Lucia Capacchione. And whereas I only this week started the first two books, I started the third one over a year ago. Alas, it’s sat on my shelf collecting dust since last summer, just waiting for me to notice it. Well, today was the day. I can’t tell you how good it felt to finally be done. And yes, I know that I didn’t HAVE to finish it. But I genuinely wanted to, was actually interested in what it had to say.

I’ve talked about divine timing before, and I continue to be amazed by it. While reading the book I just mentioned, I noticed several things made sense to me that wouldn’t have made sense to me a year ago. Better said, several things STOOD OUT to me that wouldn’t have before. But they did stand out because of other books I’ve read over the past year. I kept thinking, Oh, there was a reason I didn’t pick you back up until today. I wasn’t ready for you yet.

This evening I had dinner with a friend (we’d planned on going out this weekend but at the last minute decided to go tonight) and told them of my recent and positive results with upper cervical care. When they asked HOW I found out about this healthcare modality, I credited a dancer friend (whom I honestly don’t talk to very often) who mentioned online their positive results with upper cervical care (that they received over ten years ago). And whereas I can’t say what’s going to happen or not happen over the next few months in terms of my healing, I can say that based on how much I’ve improved in the last two weeks (I truly feel like my innate healing powers have been given back to me), this whole setup is what I’ve been praying and waiting for.

By setup I mean–I don’t think any of this has been accidental.

Getting back to the idea of divine timing, I’m astounded by what all had to happen or not happen in order for me to find out about this form of treatment. Fifteen years ago my friend and I had to meet. Ten years ago my friend had to be sick and–God knows how–find her doctor. Earlier this year my friend and I had to reconnect. And then there’s what had to happen to get my doctor close enough that I could drive to him, since he used to be located much farther away, like the only other two people in the state who do what he does. Anyway, I could go on but won’t. I just keep thinking that answers are being lined up for us LONG before we even ask our questions. I just keep thinking that it doesn’t make much sense for me to try to tell the universe how to do its obviously complex job.

Because it’s doing just fine.

When I wasn’t reading today, I was tidying up my room. My therapist says when you’re feeling SCARCITY, one way to feel ABUNDANCE is to give something away. “It doesn’t have to be a lot,” she says. “It could be a dollar, a t-shirt, a hour of your time. Anything to get the energy flowing.” So that’s what I did, picked out stuff to donate–several shirts, a pair of shoes (the too-big ones I tore my ACL in), a handful of books I’ll either never read or never read again. Let someone else enjoy them, I thought. Then I went through my “paper pile” and threw this in the trash, filed that in a folder. Then I reorganized a few shelves in my closet. You know how one thing leads to another.

I wish I could tell you WHY I felt compelled to tidy up my room today or–as I’ve been doing recently–clean up my Facebook friends list. My therapist says any cleaning out makes room for other things to come along, so maybe that’s it. Maybe a part of me knows that this blog is coming to a close and–at the same time–my body is mending, so I just need more “room,” more health for whatever is coming next. But this is speculation. I can’t say why anything happened today, just like I can’t say why the sun rose this morning. I only know that it did, it was right on time, and it was perfect. More and more I know it’s not my job to know why. Rather, it’s my job to follow my inner guidance, that voice that says, “Check out that doctor. Read this book, not that one. Go to dinner now, not later.” It’s my job to be patient, trust that answers are coming, and enjoy the mystery of it all.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears--the storm is over.

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Scrooge McDuck and the Second Deadly Sin (Blog #850)

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Today while cleaning I listened to two one-and-a-half-hour lectures about spiritual alchemy and a one-hour podcast/interview about grief. Then I went to dinner and read Caroline Myss’s Defy Gravity for two hours (I’m on a Myss kick lately), then came back to where I’m house sitting and read it for an hour more. And whereas I’d intended to finish the entire book tonight, my body and this blog said no. We’re too tired, we have too much to do. So whatever, that’ll just be one more book I’ve started and “need” to finish. I say need in quotation marks because as my therapist often says, “You don’t NEED to do anything. You could stay at home and eat bonbons all day if you wanted to.”

Whenever she says this, I squirm in my seat.

Like the rest of America, I’m hung up on being productive.

In Defy Gravity Caroline says that of the personal healings she’s aware of, the healings haven’t come about as a result of the mind-body connection. Rather, they’ve come about as a result of the mind-body-SOUL connection, since, she says, your rational mind doesn’t have the power to heal you but your irrational soul (your spirit) does. If you’re a follower of Caroline’s work, this is why she talks about the healing power of forgiveness and how it will never make sense to your mind (your ego). It will however, make sense to your soul.

In discussing soul work and mysticism, Caroline associates each of the seven deadly sins, as well as the seven graces (gifts of the spirit) with the seven main chakras of the physical body. For example, the first (root) chakra is located at the base of your spine and is linked to one’s fear of and need for survival. It’s our connection to THE TRIBE, as in, What will THEY think? As such, according to Caroline, the deadly sin of the first chakra is pride, which is “rooted” in the fear of being humiliated. The grace for this downfall? Reverence.

As I understand it, a grace is something you can seek out and ask for, but it’s not something you can make happen. Likewise, it’s not something you can reason yourself around to with your mind because–again–a grace comes from or is at least given to the soul. It has an effect on your mind, but that’s not its home. And whereas it’s easy to think of a grace as something fantastic and spectacular that marches into your life like a Christmas parade, more often than not, it’s not. For example, the day I asked a counselor friend of mine for a recommendation for a therapist and he gave me my therapist’s name, that was a HUMONGOUS grace. Of course, I didn’t know it then. I just jotted down the number and off I went. It took time for me to realize how “lucky” I was to be introduced to that one person, how my much life would change for the better.

Back to the seven deadly sins, the one that’s on my mind tonight is greed, which Caroline links to the second chakra, our center of relationships–to other people, to money, to sex. Rightly so, I think, some yoga practitioners refer to the second charka, which is located at the level of your sex organs, as the emotional junkyard. Personally, I’m not afraid to say I have a lot of issues there–both emotional and physical. Anyway, it felt like a bit of a slap in the face when I read that greed is the potential driver behind the issues in my second chakra, since I don’t picture myself as a Scrooge McDuck. But one way Caroline describes greed is having the thought or feeling that “there’s not enough.”

Well, okay, fine, you got me there.

For me, the idea of “not enough” is deeply engrained and ever present. I could blame this on my particular life circumstances, but the truth is, scarcity is embedded in our culture. Just look at any form of advertising. All of it’s built around the idea that we don’t have enough–beauty, wealth, friends, or vacation time. Many spiritual books subtly (and not so subtly) convey the idea that we don’t have enough spirituality. Where I personally feel the most scarcity (or a greed for more) is in my finances and my knowledge-base. This is why I’m constantly listening to lectures, constantly reading. Granted, I enjoy these things thoroughly, but underneath it all is a fear that I don’t have enough of whatever it is and, therefore, need more of it. Personally, I think most of our ugly inclinations (seven deadly sins) have fear at their base.

Caroline says the grace we need to counteract greed (or the fear of scarcity if that’s easier for you to swallow) is piety, humility, or devotion to God. As I understand this, this grace puts us in touch with another quality of the second chakra–creativity. This is important because–and I can speak to this personally–our creative energy is a limitless flow of resources. Said another way, our creativity is abundant, anything but scarce. I’ve experienced this firsthand in writing every day for 850 days. Never once has my creative well run dry. Likewise, I’ve experienced instant creativity on the dance floor, especially when I’m in the moment and not thinking about what others think of me. This, I think, is where piety or humility comes in. Whenever I’m trying to impress someone, whenever I think, I’m hot shit, my creativity shuts down.

I’ve said before that I often feel or believe that good things happen to other people but not to me. Now, I can logically tell you that’s not true, but our feelings and beliefs are rarely logical. Anyway, my therapist says this is a dumb belief. “Good things happen to everybody,” she says. “If the Kardashians can make money, so can you.” Once while discussing this topic I said, “I guess it’s another way of feeling like I’m special–because I’m the exception to the rule.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, “but special in a real dumb way.”

Like I frequently do in our sessions, I laughed out loud when she said this. Why? Because it’s true. It is dumb to think good things happen to others but not to you. It’s another form of scarcity. Likewise, it’s dumb to think you live in a “not enough” universe when you’ve been taken care of and had more than enough you’re entire life. Like, how many pairs of shoes do you have? And yet you only have two feet. If you really get this point, you’ll laugh out loud too. This, I think, is another way grace comes to us, through those moments when we really see ourselves and how ridiculous we can be. Scrooge McDuck had so much gold that he could swim in it, and yet he wanted more. We have everything we have (we have enough, we are enough), and yet we want more.

Talk about funny.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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On Breaking Through (Blog #831)

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Today has worn me out. This morning I woke up with (more) sinus junk. Then, after getting a good report from my knee surgeon (keep doing what I’m doing, things will continue to heal), I found out my insurance didn’t cover one of my physical therapy appointments (it’s a long story), so–no big deal–I owe about three hundred dollars. Ugh. I hate unexpected expenses, especially on a week like this one when I’m having my car’s brake pads replaced and windshield repaired.

When it rains, it pours.

This money thing really has distressed me today. This evening my aunt told me that she recently had to have both her freezers and her air conditioner repaired (and none of it was cheap), so I get that shit happens to all of us. I get that the thing with my insurance wasn’t personal and–quite frankly–probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d been more on top of things in terms of understanding the limitations of my policy. That being said, it did happen, and I refuse to beat myself up about not knowing because this is the first time in my life that I’ve HAD insurance and am still learning the ropes. Still, the last few years have been rough physically and financially, so anytime there’s an unanticipated blow in terms of illness or money, it just feels like getting knocked down all over again.

Like, maybe I should just stay down here.

I don’t mean to sound all woe-is-me. Rather, I intend to sound honest. This afternoon and evening I read a book, mowed my parents’ lawn, and went to the library. Today hasn’t been all bad. But I’ve nonetheless felt discouraged. I wish this were different. I wish I could chalk today’s financial setback–any financial setback–up to “shit happens” and “don’t worry–there’s more where that came from.” And yet I haven’t been able to do this. Granted, I’ve felt more at peace about the matter this evening. Tonight I went for a walk, and my ankles got absolutely eaten up by mosquitoes. For thirty solid minutes they itched, itched, itched, but now I can barely feel any irritation. Maybe our fears and emotions are like this. They just need time to calm down.

My therapist says to be patient with myself, that I was “poisoned” with the idea of scarcity and that it will take time to get it out of my system. Deep-seeded beliefs don’t change overnight. The book I read this afternoon, The Laws of Manifestation by David Spangler, says it’s not embarrassing to have a need (a bill to pay or illness to heal, for example) and that, in fact, our needs exist because something within us wants come out. That is, some people believe that manifestation is about getting more stuff, more money, that it’s about ATTRACTING something external TO you. But the book says true manifestation is about evoking something FROM you and that, in order to do this, you yourself (as your consciousness) must BECOME that which you believe is missing from your life–vibrant health, abundance, whatever.

Said succinctly, if you want something to change in your external world, the best way to go about it to change you internal one.

This includes changing your beliefs.

To me this means that I could win the lottery tomorrow but unless I change who I am and what I believe, I’m still going to feel there’s not enough. (What, ONLY thirty million?) Again, the book says needs arise because something within wants to come out–because something inside us wants us TO CHANGE. According to this theory, this means that the reason I’m currently experiencing scarcity is because abundance exists within me as a potential and wants to emerge. Think of the seed of a tree that wants so badly to grow that it’s willing to bust through concrete. This is how our subconscious works–it’s willing to destroy everything you’ve ever worked for–take every dollar you have–if everything you’ve ever worked for is no longer serving you. It’s willing to–again and again–bring up every fear you have so that you can finally face them, finally face yourself. So that you can break through that which has held you back, and grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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Let’s Talk about Poop (Blog #819)

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This morning I mowed my parents’ lawn, and because the grass was both thick and damp, made an absolute mess of myself. You should have seen my legs. They looked like they belonged to someone of a different nationality. I had my shirt off, and even my back was covered in filth. Afterwards, when I was in the shower, the water slowly washed it all away. For a moment the dirt, mud, and grass swirled around the shower drain then eventually went to live somewhere else, somewhere other than my body.

Last night I redecorated my room because yesterday afternoon I bought a new (to me) statue at an antique store and wanted to display it. As I mentioned in last night’s blog, finding a place to put the statue led to rearranging almost everything on the piece of furniture where the statue now sits. This “moving around” process has continued today. After I mowed the lawn and took a shower, I combed through all of my on-display possessions in an attempt to listen to the voice inside me that was telling me it was time to “purge,” to clean up my room like I’d just cleaned up my body. And whereas when it was all over I’d gathered up a handful of books to donate to a local library, I first had an internal struggle.

My “purge” voice said, “Get rid of that book. You don’t need it. Let someone else enjoy it.”

Then my “hold on” voice said, “But it’s pretty. It has a nice cover. I like it.”

Then my “scarcity” voice said, “What if we NEED it later? What if we never find another book like it? What if there’s NOT ENOUGH?”

Finally, Marcus at the Head of the Table made a decision. “We’re getting rid of that book,” I said. “End of discussion.”

Honestly, I was almost swayed by my “hold on” voice. I’ve let go of a lot over the last few years–most of my worldly possessions and not a few relationships. Haven’t I given up enough already? Can’t I hold on to a book if I want to?

Well, yes and no.

I’ll explain.

Our souls don’t cling to A Thing.

I have a lot of possessions that I like and enjoy but am not “attached” to. This means my butt might pucker a little if someone were to break or steal them, but, by the end of the day, I could gladly part with them. However, there are certain items that part of me clings to, that like Gollum in The Hobbit says, “We needs it.” This is when I absolutely know the best thing to do is buckle down and balls-to-the-wall set it free. Because we’re born into this life with nothing, and we leave with nothing, and I’ll be damned if a book or any other physical possession is going to turn me into a “hanger-on-er.” Our souls arrive free, and they leave free. They don’t cling to A Thing.

Byron Katie says that “letting go is sometimes experienced as sadness,” but that ultimately the sadness you feel isn’t about letting go of any possession (or person), but rather about letting go of your beliefs–the belief that you NEED something (or someone), the belief that you’re more or less because you have it (or them) or not. Yesterday I said that because everything in life is connected, changing one thing means changing everything. This applies to physical, outer-world changes, and especially to non-physical, inner-world changes, or–beliefs. As Katie would say, the letting go of a belief is the letting go of “a whole world.”

So of course you’d be sad.

Last night I went to dinner with my friend Kate and her four-year-old son. We all rode to the restaurant together, and at some point during the ride Kate’s son–out of the blue and unprovoked–said, “Marcus, let’s talk about poop.” Kate and I laughed, and I said, “Okay, let’s talk about poop.” Later I told Kate, “That’s going to be the name of a blog post,” and it’s pretty much been all I’ve been able to think about today, mostly because poop is the perfect metaphor for letting go and getting rid of that which no longer serves you. Sooner or later, you gotta do it. If you don’t, you’re gonna have a problem.

So get this shit. (See what I did there?) Today Kate’s husband, Aaron, posted a meme about that feeling you get when you’re ALMOST HOME but losing the “I gotta go number two” battle. I’ll spare you the visual details, but my initial reaction to his bathroom humor was the same as Aaron’s Mom, who said, “That’s really GROSS.” Well, Aaron, ever the comedian, responded, “The truth is gross, Mom.”

Amen. Truer words were never spoken.

In my adventures in mental health and personal and spiritual growth, the truth is nasty, filthy, a monster, and rarely fun. Like poop, it’s anything but cute. What I mean is that it’s hard as hell to get honest with yourself and others. Since starting this journey, I’ve had more difficult conversations with people I love or have loved than I care to recount. Often these conversations looked like confrontations, confrontations I either started or was on the receiving end of. My therapist says, “Is it fun to have these talks? No. Would I rather talk about something trivial? Yes. But uncomfortable, truthful conversations are the foundation or healthy relationships.”

In my experience, although I wish there were another way, this is accurate. For years, decades, I tried to hold on to my secrets until they were finally too much and I got the courage to tell my therapist, my friends, and family, “Let’s talk about poop. Let’s talk about the shit in our lives.” Again, these hard conversations, as well as letting go and changing, aren’t pleasant, but they’re the only reliable ways I’ve found to produce inner peace, further self-acceptance, and foster true connection with others. This is something Jesus forgot to say directly, that the truth will set you free–you’ll like the results–but you ain’t gonna like the process.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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A Cedar Inside a Seed (Blog #726)

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Today has been fabulous. This morning I woke up early to go to therapy. Because this last Sunday was five years since my first therapy appointment, I picked up cookies on the way. (My therapist likes cookies.) When I walked into my therapist’s office in a bow tie and suit jacket (and pants, of course, you pervert), she happened to be in the waiting room and commented that I looked fancy. Then she looked at her receptionist and said, “It’s our anniversary.”

She remembered.

Other than my dressing up and the cookies (with which I also had a cup of coffee), today’s session was like any other. Still, the entire time I had it in my head just how much my life has positively changed over the last five years. Even now, if I really stopped to think about the impact this one person has had on me, I’d start crying. It’s no small thing to be accepted, affirmed, believed in, and trusted. Indeed, I can say without hesitation–my therapist has, from the beginning, believed in me. More than I did. More than I do. This has been transformative. Thanks to her belief and support, I now believe in and trust myself more than I ever have.

I’ve mentioned before that scarcity is a big issue for me, and today my therapist referred to this issue as my “grand struggle.” She said we all have one. “Mine is different than yours,” she said, “but I can identify with yours.” This is why my coming to believe in myself is such a big deal. Because if you believe in scarcity–that there’s not enough money, not enough opportunity, and not enough sex (but really)–then, since you see the world through “not enough” glasses, you’ll believe you’re not enough either. You’ll have to. You’ll think, I need to learn more, I need to know more people, and I need to look different before I can be happy or successful because–I’m not enough. This, of course, is a lie. You’re either enough right here, right now, or you never will be. And that’s what I’m coming to believe, that there’s enough money, opportunity, and sex for me. That I’m enough exactly how I am.

That I have everything I need and always have.

Before I left therapy, my therapist told me that I’ve reaffirmed her belief that people can change for the better. This means the world to me. I say often that I’ve changed and that therapy has been great–better than great–for me, but since my progress has been stretched out over five years, it’s sometimes difficult to see even though I know it’s there. So it was nice to be reminded that I’m a different man than I was five years ago. Not that my fundamental me-ness has changed. My therapist told me in one of our very first sessions, “It’s my job to support you in reaching your highest potential.” Not my simply better, average, or good-enough potential. My highest potential. So she set the bar high. We set the bar high, because I agreed too–there’s a lot of possibility here, inside of me, and I’m willing to work to bring it out; I’m not willing to get to the end of my life and think, I was capable of more but settled for less. I let fear get the best of me.

Once when we were discussing a specific dream I have, my therapist said, “Do you think you can do this?” and I said, “Yes!” Then she said, “I believe you. You didn’t hesitate or waver before answering, so I know that’s your truth. And I think–I know–you can too.” Then I said, “It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable, it’s that I’m afraid. I’m afraid that my dreams won’t come true. So sometimes it’s easier to not dream than to dream and think it might not happen. The second thought hurts too much.”

Again, this thinking is a belief in scarcity, that God or the universe is capable of growing a tree, a mountain range, or a galaxy, but incapable of growing you and your dreams. Said another way, because all of life is progressive, it’s a belief that you are somehow the exception to the rule, that on a huge, whirling planet (with electricity, the internet, and peanut butter), everything is moving and evolving except stagnant little you. That stars, sunrises, and cedar trees are beautiful but you’re not. That there’s not enough growth and beauty here for all of us.

Over the years, I’ve had a thousand dance students in whom I saw some sort of potential and imagine I’ve told all of them, “You’re doing a good job. I see progress.” Unfortunately, many students have brushed these statements off. But I’ve thought what my therapist has told me before–I’ll believe in you until you can believe in yourself. I know on some level, they already do believe in themselves. Otherwise they wouldn’t be there, doing the work. Maybe they’re not firm in their belief yet, but a part of them is hoping. With both dance and therapy, I know this is enough, the hope that some part of your life can improve. Granted, like a cedar inside a seed, you start small. At times you feel small. Then one day you begin to feel it, your potential to be large, strong, and beautiful. At some point, perhaps thanks to someone who believes in you, you think, I belong here too. There’s more than enough everything to go around.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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An Abundantly Good Day (Blog #719)

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I know I keep going back and forth on this topic, but after a week of sinus infection ups and downs, I woke up dramatically better this morning. Actually, as it they are wont to do, my sinuses improved in the middle of the night. That is, I received a sudden jolt of energy just as I was going to bed, so I lay wide-awake for three hours, just twiddling my thumbs. Later when I told my dad about this he said, “You could have gotten up and cleaned the house.”

“Well, I might have woken you up,” I said.

“Oh, don’t ever worry about that,” he replied.

I think I finally fell asleep about four, which means I got about four hours of sleep, since my alarm went off at eight. And whereas I’d normally be ever-not-so happy about my lack of rest, it hasn’t bothered me today because my health has been so much better than it was yesterday. Seriously, I still can’t get over how quickly the body can turn something around when it either has a mind to or gets the right support (or both). I’ve been in the best mood all day. Even my other health concerns (which, on the grand scale of things, aren’t that concerning) haven’t brought me down today. I have too much hope that they too will–one day–disappear.

Our imperfections make us relatable.

Today really has been the best day. This morning I saw my therapist, and she’s always encouraging (it’s kind of her gig) and makes me laugh. Why somebody wouldn’t want this type of relationship, I’ll never know. Talk about a shot in the arm. Later this week marks five years since my first appointment with my therapist, and I’m eternally grateful for the path my life has taken since that fateful day. Anyway, to “celebrate,” I read my therapist a post I wrote last year called “Why Me and My Therapist Are Successful,” in which I talked about–in part–the fact that my therapist is a normal damn human being like anyone else. My therapist said this was important, for me (or any client) to recognize that she’s a flawed person. “But that doesn’t mean healing can’t happen,” she said. “In fact, it means I can better understand and help someone else–because I’ve been there.” This is huge, that you don’t have to be perfect in order to be effective. Indeed, our imperfections make us relatable.

One of the things I mentioned in that previous post is that–I think–my therapist and I are a good match. Again, my therapist said this was important. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea,” she said. “I offend a lot of people.” (This next part is simply for your consideration.) Then she said, “Well, I don’t really offend them; they offend themselves. They choose to be offended.”

Before she’s said, “People choose their reactions.”

One of the big topics my therapist and I have circled back to over and over these last five years is abundance. Or, if you want to look at the other side of the coin, scarcity. That’s my problem, apparently, is that I often want to (or have a least had a lot of practice at) looking at the scarcity side of the coin. That is, I’m plagued with feelings of I’m not enough, my knowledge and abilities aren’t enough, there’s not enough money, and the world’s not enough (to support me). Well, today my therapist said this was IRONIC, one of the universe’s little ha-ha’s, since I actually have an ABUNDANCE of talent, even if I don’t always recognize it. It reminded me of that story of the guy who searched the world over for riches and eventually discovered one of the world’s largest diamond mines on his own property. Like, Whoops, I forgot to look right here. So I’m going to keep working at recognizing those places in my life where good is overflowing this very moment.

The last two things I’m sharing from today’s therapy session are just for fun. First, at one point my therapist referred to someone as “gayer than a Judy Garland matinée.” I almost fell out of my chair. Then later when she mentioned a(n apparently fabulous) song called Carry On by Martha Wash and I said I hadn’t heard of it, she said, “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get your homosexual card revoked.” Then she paused and added, “But don’t worry; I won’t report you to the gay mafia.” Is that hilarious or what? A Judy Garland matinée. The gay mafia.

The rest of the day has been just as delightful. This afternoon I had physical therapy, and I continue to be (abundantly) taken care of and see (abundant) progress. Then I spent this evening with my friends Bonnie and Todd, and we ate (an abundance of) ice cream. But we also walked a(n abundantly) long distance to get it, so I figure it all evened out. (Balance is important.) Now it’s eleven at night, and I’m ready to call it a(n abundantly good) day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

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Dealing with My Bullshit Thoughts (Blog #139)

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The first day I went to therapy, I told my therapist about everything I could think of that might make a difference–the terrible relationship I was in, our house burning down when I was five, Mom being sick, Dad going to prison–every trauma I was aware of. And then I had to pee. Seriously. I remember standing in the bathroom thinking, Okay, there, I said it. I wonder what she’s going to say. Well, she was super professional, didn’t call me fucked up or anything. Rather, she said, “It sounds like you and your boyfriend have zero boundaries and that you have some family of origin issues [Who doesn’t?].” And that was that, end of session one.

Fast forward three years and about a hundred sessions later, and my therapist has never once said, “Tell me about your father,” or, “Let’s talk about that kid that used to beat you up.” She said once that she believes when the subconscious is ready to deal with something (to heal), the topic will come up on its own. So far, she’s been right. At one point or another, we’ve returned to all those initial traumas, even some other ones. We’ve talked about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Today we talked about–money. There, I said it. The topic came up because I mentioned the dream board I’m working on, and it would appear that dreams cost money (if you want them to come true). As the conversation went on, I shared an exercise I did recently where I listed my knee-jerk thoughts about money. Two things–it wasn’t pretty–and my therapist said knee-jerk thoughts (like my mother-in-law is _________) tell us how we really feel about something. To summarize, most of my thoughts about money are negative.

There’s not enough money. Money causes arguments. Money isn’t spiritual.

After I read the list, my therapist said, “That was intense.” I said, “That was intense to say out loud.” Honestly, it felt like throwing up in the backseat of your friend’s new car, like, I feel better, but now what do we do? Well, once again, my therapist didn’t freak out or say that I had an insurmountable problem. Instead, she started by reminding me where my beliefs came from. We talked about my childhood and all the bullshit that went on, the cars that were repossessed when Dad went to prison, the box from the Baptist church full of charity food that sat in a corner and silently proclaimed, “We can’t afford to eat.”

“It’s completely understandable that you’d have issues with scarcity and abundance. You had some bad programming,” she said.

Then she added, “And ninety percent of that list is BULLSHIT,” at which point she took out a pink highlighter and marked the two thoughts about money that I’m apparently allowed to keep because they’re actually true–1) money is freedom (of choice) and 2) money is fun. But the thought that I’d have more money if I were smarter? That one has to go. She said, “Do you know anyone with a lot of money that’s NOT as smart as you are?”

“Well yeah.”

“Okay then.”

The rest of today, I pretty much felt like shit, which I’m assuming is because we poked the bear, stirred up a bunch of junk that’s been sitting around for a while. On top of that, my initial response whenever I realize there’s serious work to do is to get overwhelmed. Oh my god, how am I going to stop believing all these things I’ve been believing for my entire life? Well, after I taught a dance lesson this evening, I finally had an idea.

Village Inn has free pie on Wednesdays. (As my friend Kara says, “It’s hard not to eat your feelings. They taste so good.”)

Really, I spent a good portion of the evening trying to figure out how I could blog about something else tonight. I swear, this vulnerability and honesty shit is for the birds. I mean, I don’t LOVE talking on the internet about my general fears and insecurities, and I certainly don’t LOVE talking on the internet about my specific fears and insecurities (money, money, my education, my body, my talent, and money–and also money). Part of me would just prefer not to do it. There may be some pride involved. But when I checked out at Village Inn tonight, the lady at the register started talking to me about an employee she’d just got off the phone with. She said, “She hasn’t worked in a month. She’s been on vacation in Spain.”

I thought, Now why do I give a shit?

But I said, “Oh that’s nice.”

Then the manager jumped in and said, “I’d love to go to Spain,” so I said, “Do it!” But then she said, “I don’t have enough money, I can’t afford it,” which is honestly my first thought lately whenever someone suggests seeing a play, going to dinner, or riding the train at Creekmore Park for a quarter. Then I figured if the Village Inn lady and I have this issue around scarcity, that’s at least two of us, and maybe there are others. So–in an effort to be real–I’m talking about it.

Sometimes when I think about the road that lies ahead and turning my scarcity truck into an abundance mobile, it feels impossible. But this evening I’ve reminded myself that I’ve tackled a lot of big issues over the last several years. I’ve come a long way with a lot of excellent help. So I have to trust that this too is an issue that’s come up at the right time, that it’s only rocking my emotional boat now because it’s time for it to heal.

Let’s do this shit.

As always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s hard to say where a kindness begins or ends.

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Searching for Abundance (Blog #128)

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For at least ten years there’s been a candlestick knitted out of yarn that’s hung on the doorknob in our kitchen. Green and white, it’s meant to be holiday decor and stand upright when you put a cardboard toilet paper roll inside it.

Doesn’t that sound cute? (And by cute I mean something a straight person would think of?)

Well, this morning my aunt Donna Kay (my dad’s sister) dropped by the house and noticed the knitted candlestick for the first time, I guess because it was off the door handle and on the kitchen table. Holding it up, she said, “What’s this?”

“It’s a penis warmer,” I said.

Then my aunt started laughing and said, “Wow. I’ve never seen one that big before.”

Welcome to my family.

Dad told my aunt that my grandma–their mother–had made the knitted candle/penis warmer, that she must have given it to us as a gift before she died. My aunt said, “Why?”

Good question.

As I recall, Grandma was a terrible gift-giver. Maybe I’ve just forgotten the good ones. But I remember once when I was in high school (high school!) having a birthday and getting a Nike t-shirt from her. I realize that actually sounds pretty cool for a grandma, but I’m pretty sure it was a knock-off that came from a second-hand store. Even before I put it on, the seams were unraveling. But Grandma was so proud because it had been a bargain. There I was reaching into the sack, sifting through the tissue paper, and she was saying, “Marcus, I paid five dollars for that.”

Uh, thanks, Grandma.

I think that was the same year I also got a pair of tennis shoes from her. They were cheap, thinner than cardboard, solid white except for the fact they had a hint of green in them. It’s hard to explain, but they had–a patina. They almost glowed. Oh, and another thing–they had velcro straps–the kind used for toddlers and old people. And here’s the kicker–she’s actually bought the shoes (out of a magazine, I think) for my grandpa, EXCEPT HE DIDN’T WANT THEM.

So she gave them to me, her grandson.

Well I guess I could mow the lawn in them. What could it hurt? I’m already a virgin. I might as well stay one.

Maybe it sounds critical, but it’s not meant that way. This is just who Grandma was. Constantly ill, she rarely wore anything other than her nightgown and only used her bra and teeth for special occasions. She passed away when I was in college, and this is the stuff I remember about her. She couldn’t keep a secret–no way. Every Christmas one of us family members would be mid-way through getting a package open, and she’d say, “That’s a pair of underwear. Incase they don’t fit, I put the receipt in the box–they cost eight dollars.” Then she’d add–

“Save that bow, I can reuse it.”

Honestly, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say my issues with scarcity and abundance go back a LONG way. I mean, couldn’t we afford new bows, shoes without velcro straps?

This afternoon, as part of my creativity and abundance homework, I had to find five interesting rocks (I’m not kidding), so I went to Creekmore Park. Well, I discovered pretty quickly that rocks are EVERYWHERE, which I guess was the point of the exercise. There is natural abundance all around us.

The first interesting rock I found was in a dried-up creek bed, hiding amongst the mosquitoes. (Nice try, rock.) It was shaped basically like the state of Arkansas and because it was painted red and said “Go Hogs,” I assumed it had been both tampered with and placed there by human hands. For a moment I thought I should leave the rock where I found it, as it was probably part of some geocaching game (hide something and leave clues online as to where its hidden). But having just spent thirty minutes trying to find ONE INTERESTING ROCK, I decided the universe had left it there specifically for me, so I snatched it right up.

Finding the other four rocks took about an hour and was harder than I thought because–to quote my therapist–I’m picky as a motherfucker. (This should come as no surprise.) Considering this fact, I could definitely cut Grandma some slack. I mean, she didn’t know that I was a budding homosexual with high standards. That being said, I’m sure there were clues–this photo, for example.

How I didn’t come out sooner, I don’t exactly know.

This evening I filled my car up with gas and was all “crap, that’s a lot” when I saw the total. This is pretty much my reaction to buying anything lately, since my income arrives in fits and starts. Honestly, I don’t like that reaction, but I know it’s been there on some level for quite a long time. What? You paid more than five dollars for a t-shirt? You think you’re BETTER THAN ME because your shoes have LACES? So I appreciate the exercise of really seeing ALL the rocks in nature, coming around to the idea of abundance bit by bit. Even though I only took home five rocks, there were SO MANY. They were everywhere, and I’d just never really recognized them before.

Now as I remember Grandma, I don’t think the best gifts she gave us were physical objects. No, definitely not physical objects. Rather, I think her best gifts were the endless stories we now have to share, the things we’re still bitching and laughing about all these years later (penis warmer!). This fact reminds me that abundance truly does comes in many forms–in rocks, in stories, in a family’s laughter–all of which, like a good Christmas bow, can be saved for later and used over and over again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just as there’s day and night literally, there’s also day and night emotionally. Like the sun, one minute we’re up, the next minute we’re down. Our perspectives change constantly. There’s nothing wrong with this. The constellations get turned around once a day, so why can’t you and I? Under heaven, there’s room enough for everything–the sun, the moon and stars, and all our emotions. Yes, the universe–our home–is large enough to hold every bit of us.

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