Nobody Wants to Deal with Hairballs (Blog #1050)

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Hum. All day I’ve been dragging ass, fighting to keep my eyes open, and now that it’s midnight-thirty I’m wide awake. Surely it doesn’t have anything to do with all the coffee I drank this afternoon and evening. Who knows? Life is a mystery.

Speaking of mysteries, let’s talk about hair loss. (Why, Marcus?) Because this afternoon I fished a huge glob of hair (about the size of a baby raccoon) out of my shower drain. And whereas there was once a time–back when I had short hair–that I NEVER had to do this, now I have to do this on a regular basis. Shower drain hair extraction. Indeed, now that my hair is shoulder length I pull hair clumps out of my drain, hair brush, hair dryer brush, and carpet constantly. Ugh. Our bodies are so strange.

They shed, they molt, they fall apart.

For some reason I can’t get the image of that hair clump out of my head. (The inside of my head, I mean, since I obviously already got the hair clump out of the outside of my head.) I think because the actual clump so clearly demonstrated the idea of buildup. Like, for days and weeks I was losing hair in the shower, and it was slowly but surely collecting in the drain. And whereas it was keeping the water from draining optimally, I didn’t notice until today. Until everything got to be “too much.” Alas, isn’t this usually the case? We gain five pounds a year and think it’s not a big deal. Two decades later we wake up wondering what the hell happened. Likewise, we ignore our traumas and dramas, insisting we’re over them. Then “all of a sudden” we find ourselves constantly anxious, stricken by panic attacks, addicted.

Or worse.

I don’t know, we live in a Bandaid society, an “it’s fine, I’m fine” society. Like, the worst happens, and we’re so focused on “getting back out there” as soon as possible, keeping a stiff upper lip. For the last six years I’ve been focused on healing through therapy. For the last three years I’ve been focused on healing through this blog. And whereas I’ve spent the majority of this time wishing I were on the other side of this work (so that I could be OUT THERE doing something else like making money or being noticed), lately I’ve been really appreciating the opportunities I’ve been given to slow the fuck down and pull the hairballs out of my mental, emotional, physical, familial, relational, and spiritual drains. To be IN HERE. So that the rest of my life can run more smoothly.

So that things can get better instead of keep getting worse.

Looking back, I can see that my body’s been asking me to pump the brakes and clean things up for a while now. Like, decades. Alas, I was more inclined to push, push, push past the internal and external pain. To use a Bandaid, a pill, a cigarette. You know, we think that if we tell ourselves something isn’t a big deal long enough, it won’t be. And yet it always is. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, and a big deal is a big deal even if you call it a little deal. Sooner or later we all face the music. Sooner or later we all sit down to a banquet of consequences (Robert Louis Stevenson). Sooner or later we all sit down to our lives.

One thing I know about cleaning out your shower drain is that even if it’s gross (and it is), it’s worth it. Recently I tried a new therapy thing and ended up crying, weeping, and wailing about things that happened twenty-five, thirty-five years ago. (My dad’s arrest, our house fire.) Not because I never mentally accepted that these things happened, but because–apparently–I never emotionally accepted that they did. What I mean is that MY BODY internalized my reaction to these events rather than externalized it. (And never forgot it, either.) Thankfully, now this reaction has been expressed. Sure, it was gross, but it was also cathartic and–what’s more–freeing.

Now it’s done. Really over.

If you’d known what to do, you would have.

There’s an idea in self-help that we’re all doing the best we can with what we’ve got. To me this means that although NOW I can look at my younger self and see that the push, push, pushing, the pills (by the way, I’m talking about Tylenol, not Oxy), and the cigarettes weren’t THE ANSWER, they were all I had at the time. Back then I didn’t have therapy or this blog or any of the other wonderful things I’ve discovered, well, in my thirties. This is the way of it. We learn as we go. All this to say that, please, don’t give yourself shit for not cleaning out your drain sooner. For one thing, hairballs are gross. Nobody WANTS to deal with them. For another, if you’d known WHAT to do, you would have. So keep pressing forward. Keep learning and keep healing. And remember–

We shed, we molt, we fall apart. We begin again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

"

When a Pickpocket Meets a Saint (Blog #991)

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There’s an idea in self-help and spirituality that we repeat things over and over again until we get the point of them, until we learn the lesson. You know how some people, maybe you, always end up falling for the same kind of lovers. Emotionally unavailable assholes, let’s say. Or maybe you’re constantly being shit on at work–and it’s been like that for twenty years. One way of describing this situation is “same drama, different actors,” and I think it’s worth taking a look at. Because if you can’t step out of the hamster wheel of your life and analyze it archetypally (non-personally), chances are you’ll keep getting more of the same.

My chiropractor who works with emotions and the body and I talk about this a lot. I saw him today, and we worked through a recent situation in which my reaction was, “Fine, damn it, I’ll do it,” even though someone else really should have. Like, it was their responsibility. Well, this feeling of taking on more than I really should goes back a long way. When I was a child my mom was sick quite a bit. When I was a teenager my dad was in prison. Long story short, I had to grow up fast. Looking back, I can see I wasn’t very happy about it and didn’t know how to express my frustration. But with respect to the same-drama conversation, what’s important to note is that although all the stories I’ve mentioned tonight were different on the outside, they were the same for me on the inside.

Recently I’ve been taking the covers off old books in order to use them for art projects, and yesterday I noticed a line on the first page of a book (I can’t remember which one) that said, “‘Every morning,’ he said, ‘every morning it’s the same damn thing!'” This is what I’m talking about emotionally, repeating the same feelings, the same roles (the runt, the slave, the misunderstood one) day after day after day. This is where my therapist and my emotionally intelligent chiropractor have been invaluable. They’ve helped me spot UNPRODUCTIVE PATTERNS so that I can do something about them. Because that’s the deal–it’s really hard to see your own routine. Sometimes you’re just too close to your own life to get what’s really going on. But someone else can take one look and say, “Girl, you’re stuck in a hamster wheel.”

Having had the help of wise counselors for years now, it’s getting easier and easier for me to spot my own unproductive patterns. For example, I’ve learned that I’m chronically attracted to a certain type that’s fundamentally not good for me. So whenever I feel myself going down the rabbit hole again, I stop and say, “Hold it right there, Mister. Stop in the name of love. We know how this is going to end, and it’s not good.” Then I do something else (or someone else). Another thing I’ve found helpful is to note whenever I catch myself saying, “Well, if it were anybody else, I’d tell them to do this (dump him, run the other way, go to a doctor).” Then I drop all my excuses and take my own advice. Because that’s my inner wisdom talking, and it shouldn’t matter if it’s someone else, or me, or the President. A problem is a problem is a problem, and good advice is good advice is good advice.

This evening I went thrift shopping and bought a few hardback books for their covers. Well, the total was $5.56, but I only had $5.25 in my pocket. “I’ll be right back,” I told the girl behind the counter. “I just need to get my change from the car.” Well, I came back with 26 cents, which, as the girl quickly pointed out, was 5 cents short.

So back to my car I went.

For a moment I thought, She must think I’m really dumb. Then I thought about how I won all sorts of math awards in junior high and high school, and how maybe I should tell her about them. Like, I really do know how to add. I won the Math-A-Thon! I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Then I thought, You don’t have to explain yourself to a high school student who works at Goodwill, Marcus.

So I gave her the damn nickel, picked up my books, and left.

There’s a saying I think about a lot but have never shared on this blog. It goes, “When a pickpocket meets a saint, he sees only his pockets.” To me this means that we don’t perceive others and the world as THEY are, but as WE are. Like, I could be the nicest guy and a really good mathematician, and if some tween at Goodwill thinks I’m stupid, she thinks I’m stupid. Now, does she? We’d have to ask her. Chances are, unlike me, she’s forgotten the whole interaction. Or maybe she hasn’t. Maybe she’s fallen in love with me and is currently at home stalking my Facebook and being disappointed by the fact that I don’t date girls. My point being that–either way–her reactions have little to do with me and everything to do with her. Yesterday I mentioned that someone bitched me out on YouTube for (in their opinion) counting Rumba incorrectly, and–same thing. This unfortunate commenter didn’t see ME, he only saw some ignorant dance teacher from Arkansas. A figment of his imagination.

And yes, it hasn’t escaped me that my not being able to count has apparently become a theme. Same drama, different players.

You’re never as stuck as you think you are.

For me another takeaway of the pickpocket/saint saying is to TRY to see people neutrally. Tonight I looked at the girl at Goodwill and thought, I know nothing about who this person is or what her life is like, and I certainly don’t know what she’s thinking. So often we assume we know what’s going on in someone else’s life or head and end up separating from rather than connecting with them. But seeing someone neutrally opens a door for grace to walk through. Likewise, seeing yourself neutrally (archetypally, impersonally) opens a door for grace to walk through. Because when you unplug from your own drama, your own story about your life, you have the thought that perhaps things could be different. And they could. You’re never as stuck as you think you are. In life, there’s always space to rewrite your script.

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.

"

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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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

"

On How You Move Mountains (Blog #985)

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Last night my dad and I went to the gym. I started off doing my own thing in a back corner away from Dad but eventually ended up beside him, me on an elliptical and him on a recumbent stepper. And whereas I was really going to town, breathing hard and everything, he was like, moving at a snail’s pace. So when we both wrapped up, I said, “You’ve been on that machine for FIFTY minutes, and I’ve only been on mine for FIFTEEN. And yet you’re COMPLETELY dry and I’m DRENCHED in sweat.”

“That’s because I’m in so much better shape than you are,” he said.

Everyone’s a comedian.

This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, the upper cervical specialist who’s currently changing my life. Well, to be clear, my nervous system is changing my life. My doc is just helping my nervous system out by getting my “head on straight.” For years I’ve complained about headaches, shoulder pain, back pain, and posture problems. In only two weeks, all these things are dramatically better. This last week I didn’t have a single headache. My shoulders are less rounded. Today I told my doctor that after each treatment I experience different sensations in my body. The first time I cried. Today I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s how it goes,” he said. “It’s whatever the body wants to work on.”

What I appreciate about this form of treatment is that it views the body as innately intelligent. For at least a decade I’ve tried multiple ways to get the tight muscles in my shoulders and hips to loosen up with minimal results. Now I know those muscles were tight for a reason; my head was too far forward, and my body was trying to stay in balance. Well, now that my head is in a better position, those muscles that have been tight for years are beginning to loosen up. Just like that. Finally. Mountains are moving.

I wish I could say that this were a one-and-done miracle, but it’s more like a twenty-nine-and-done miracle, since twenty-nine visits over a year is what my doc suggested and what I agreed to. Considering my list of health problems has been growing the last few years and that my doc says his job is to take items OFF that list, the time and money I’m having to put into this are well worth it.

It’s always worth it to invest in your health.

With my 1,000th blog quickly approaching, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed for the better thanks to both nearly three years of blogging and nearly six years of therapy. Mostly I’ve been thinking about how although I’ve had a number of especially healing nights at this computer and especially healing days in therapy, I can’t put my finger on exactly WHEN I changed. You know how you look at yourself in the mirror every day. Sure, you notice a gray hair there, a little extra fat there. But until you whip out last year’s photo or try to squeeze into last season’s jeans, it doesn’t click that something’s different than it used to be. You think, When did it happen?

When did it not?

By this last question I mean that we’re always in the process of change. When it comes to going to the gym, seeing a therapist, or writing a daily blog, it’s not the individual visits or posts that change us, it’s the process itself. This afternoon I realized that I’ve recently checked out half a dozen books from an online library. Well, not only do I not have the time to read them, I also don’t have the desire. And yet my inner completionist says I should. My inner good student says there’s something to learn. But the truth is that no one fact or book is going to change me. It’s what I do with that fact or book, how I choose to integrate it into my life that makes the difference.

Along these lines, I have a personal beef with self-help posts with titles like “Twelve Thing I learned in Therapy.” Not because I don’t love a good list (I love a good list), but because I’ve read others’ lists and books until I’m blue in the face and know that lists don’t change you. Memes don’t change you either. Because they’re just words. This blog is just words. Even if they’re true words, they have no power. You, however, have plenty of power. You have the ability to take an idea and animate it. You can read “exercise” or “be kind” or “be honest,” and you can breathe your life into these ideas. Better said, you can BECOME these ideas. This is how you change yourself, this is how you change the world, and this is how you move mountains. Not with one part of you, but with the entirety of your being.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

"

Slow Your Ass Down (Blog #911)

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Twice last night I dreamed that I took a break from work and drove to In and Out Burgers for something to eat. Both times, they weren’t open. The second time, they’d locked up just minutes before I got there. The waiter, a real pimply faced kid with stringy blonde hair, didn’t seem to care that I was starving. “You’ll have to go somewhere else,” he said. “We’re closed.”

This morning I mowed a lawn then came home to eat. Thanks to intermittent fasting, this has been my routine for the last twelve days–wake up, do something for a couple hours, then–after noon–eat. I get this window every day, eight hours, to eat whatever I want within reason, and then the window closes. Currently it’s four-fifteen in the afternoon, which means the window is open. I just ate two handfuls of nuts and an apple, which means I’m still hungry. I’ve been hungry for twelve days straight. I mean, it’s not awful, I just don’t have that I’m-oh-so-satisfied-because-I-just-ate-French-Toast feeling.

But my pants fit, so there’s that.

This afternoon when I got home from mowing I noticed a plate of desserts on our kitchen counter. Our neighbor, who’s a witch with an oven, had just brought them over. “You should try this bundt cake with butterscotch rum icing,” my dad said. “Go ahead. Just dip your finger in it.”

“No,” I said. “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

This makes two days in a row that I’ve turned down a dessert that was sitting right in front of my face, just begging to be eaten. What is happening to me? After breakfast I thought, I wonder if I have the willpower (dedication, motivation) to keep this up for an entire year, until I’m 40. Just how bad do I want a rockin’ bod (instead of a rockin’ dad-bod)? What I finally determined was that I had the willpower to stick with things today and that I can worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Will there be exceptions made along this journey? Absolutely. I’m positively determined to not be a perfectionist about this physical transformation. Give me a special occasion, and I’ll tear up a chocolate cake. But I simply can’t believe that a weekday qualifies as a special occasion and expect to reach my goals. It’s why I haven’t made even one exception to writing this blog every day. I know myself too well. If I take a break for a  day, it’ll turn into a week.

Know thyself.

Getting back to the dream I had last night, it obviously had something to do with my diet. Any time I’ve quit cigarettes I dream about smoking, and any time I go on a diet I dream about cheeseburgers and cookies. It’s like my subconscious is saying, “Hey! Where’d all the good stuff go?” This being said, I really think the dream was driving home the idea that I can’t nourish or sustain myself with any sort of “fast food,” anything in-and-out. This applies to food, friendships, ideologies, philosophies, and work. No, it simply takes time to cultivate anything worthwhile, either inside yourself or outside yourself. It takes desire, will, intent, focus, dedication, dedication, and patience.

I know I said dedication twice. It’s really important.

God’s not a fast-mover.

In terms of patience, I think this idea often gets represented in my dreams as waiters in restaurants. That is, wait-ers, people who wait. I hate that this quality is so needed for everything worthwhile–skills we learn and develop, relationships we cultivate, diets we go on. I hate it, hate it, hate it as much as you do. And yet it’s simply the way of things. God’s not a fast-mover. It takes an entire year (by definition) for the earth to travel around the sun. It takes about ninety days for the seasons to change. But you think you can change faster? Bitch, please. Slow your ass down. Take a deep breath. Do The Hard Work. Wait. The universe isn’t in a hurry.

You don’t have to be either.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Miracles happen."

On Words and How You Change Your Reality (Blog #880)

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This afternoon I painted for two hours, came home and took a shower, and went to the chiropractor. Then I met with a friend for whom I’ll be house sitting soon, bought a piece of carpet for my parents’ garage (for when our cars leak), went to Kinko’s to get a quote for a print job, and went the library to download and test a some new software on my computer. Then, because the software didn’t work because the library is picky about what you can do on their network, I went to a coffee shop to test the software. Much to my delight, it worked there.

Phew.

This evening I’ve been putting off writing the blog. Not because there’s something I need to say but don’t want to, but simply because I don’t want to say anything–period. I’d rather curl up with a book and go to bed. Lately I’ve been go-go-going a lot and not really taking a break. Even on my days off, I find things to do. I mean, there’s always a lawn that needs to be mowed, something that needs to be fixed, or a potential creative project to start.

Somebody make me take a nap.

I know, that’s my job.

This evening I found myself frustrated first because, well, money, and second because I was having such a difficult time getting that software to download and work. You know, life never happens as fast as you want it to. Thankfully, I drove around with my windows down (something I love to do), listened to some of my favorite music, and told myself a few stories and felt better.

What kind of stories did you tell yourself, Marcus?

I’m glad you asked.

This morning my mom was watching Dr. Oz, and I overheard a part when the good doctor was interviewing a professional taste tester. “Do you have more taste buds that most people?” he asked. “No,” she said, “I have the same taste buds that everyone else has. What I do have more of is words. I have more words to DESCRIBE what I’m tasting and feeling.”

I’ve been thinking about this all day. Caroline Myss says that our words shape our reality. For example, how much power have you given the word fat? It’s just a three-letter word, but my guess is it controls you. Now think of how you frame the inconveniences or atrocities in your life. When you think of them or describe them to someone else, do you use words like awful and unfair, or phrases like no big deal or learning experience? Because, guaranteed, how you frame your experiences will determine whether or not they cause you needless suffering.

This is what I mean by the stories I told myself this evening. When I started thinking and getting upset about money (yesterday I had some expensive work done on my car, Tom Collins), rather than wallowing I started thinking of all the blessings in my life–the free books I get to read at the library, the job opportunities that have come my way lately, the fact that I SAVED nearly two hundred dollars on the repair work because I used a private mechanic instead of a garage. When I got frustrated about the software installation, I thought, I’d like this to work as soon as possible, but there’s absolutely no deadline involved here. I have all the time in the world to figure this out. To boil this last example down, you could say at first I thought I HAD to finish, then I thought I COULD finish.

This shift in words–in perspective–changed everything.

Recently I got together with a friend who is a dynamo when it comes to writing and singing music. Like, I’d kill for their specific talent. Well, during the course of our get-together, they said they didn’t think of themselves as a REAL musician because they couldn’t play an instrument (very well). Immediately I said, “Oh, that’s not true.” Now, for ME that’s not true, but obviously for THEM, it is. Like, if they don’t ever change their mind about it, they could go the rest of their life never fully recognizing and basking in the glory of their wonderful talent, never enjoying the label of musician. I mean, I get it. My therapist has been telling me for years that I’m fabulous at this and wonderful at that, and I’m like, Eh, I’m okay.

Well, words matter. There’s a HUGE DIFFERENCE between okay and fabulous.

Getting back to the taste tester lady, I don’t know that she HAS more words than most of us do, she’s simply learned how to use them properly, to know what words go with what flavors and textures. This, I think, is what most of us need to learn to do–to use our words properly, to use them to empower ourselves rather than depower ourselves. This is where a good therapist or self-help book can come in handy. They can introduce a new story, a new perspective. They can say, “Sweetheart, take another look. What you’re telling yourself about yourself or this situation isn’t true.” Then you can reconsider, and if you wish, rewrite your story. (You’re that powerful.) This is how you change your perspective. This is how you change your reality.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

"

 

Please Pass the Better Feeling! (Blog #854)

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This morning I woke up with a crick in my neck and thought, Oh crap, it’s probably just gonna get worse because I’ll be spending all day painting, which is what I did. A friend of mine is fixing up their rent house (to rent), and, starting today, I’m painting the inside. And whereas I’m excited about the work (it’s good to be employed), I’ve been nervous about what it would do to my already tender and sometimes hurting body. Anyway, I took two Aspirin, said a prayer, and asked my body to hang in there. If possible, I’d like us to feel good, I said. Then off we went.

When I first arrived at my friend’s rent house, I was overwhelmed by the big-ness of the project. The entire house, every room (all the walls and ceilings), needs to be done. Where do I start? I thought. Finally, I took a breath and picked a room. Then for a solid hour all I did was prep. First I moved out all the furniture and junk. Then I took down the blinds and curtain rods and removed the wall plates. Then I wiped the cobwebs from the corners. Then I put the drop cloth down (I dropped that cloth like it was hot), shook up the paint, poured it into the pan, and got to work.

While putting on the first coat of paint, I listened to some self-help CDs I recently borrowed from a friend. One of the things the CDs mentioned was that whenever we want something–better health, more money, a lover–it’s only because we believe we’d feel better if we had it. And whereas we might (I’d certainly feel better if Zac Efron were sitting on my lap right now), the CDs suggested a novel concept–try feeling better now, even without whatever it is you want. Not great, not fabulous, just good, as good as you can in this moment, which might be different than later today or tomorrow. Anyway, I tried this. I thought about a few things that make me happy, danced around the room a bit, even did a little yoga. Later I put on the soundtrack to one of my favorite Broadway musicals. Gay, I know, but not only did it make my day painting go faster, it also made it more enjoyable.

Y’all, I worked and painted today for six solid hours. I rolled and cut in two full coats of paint onto half the room. My goal is to finish the other half tomorrow, this weekend at the latest. My point now is that the time flew by. Often when I’m doing manual labor there’s all this internal bitching–either because my body hurts or because I’d rather be doing something else. But today my body cooperated. Not that it didn’t hurt at times, but it never got out of control. And I really didn’t want to be doing something else. I saw the job for what it was–an opportunity for me to make some money, help a friend, and have time alone to listen to CDs and Broadway musicals, something I probably wouldn’t have made time for on my own.

Also, it was a chance for me to work on my attitude.

As I see it, you can always work your attitude. All the better if you’re at work or your body’s not feeling exactly like you want it to. Start by thinking, I want to feel good. Then think of things that make you feel good–your friends and relatives (well, maybe not your relatives!), your favorite book, hobby, or vacation spot. A couple years ago a friend of mine introduced me to a scene from The Big Bang Theory in which one of the characters keeps saying, “Please pass the butter,” and it’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Of course, my friend and I joke about it a lot, so maybe that’s part of it. You know how something can become “a thing.” But still, whenever I want a little emotional pick-me-up, I’ll watch the clip or just think of it in my head. Please pass the butter!

And just like that, I’m smiling.

Later doesn’t exist.

I’ve made this point before, but it’s worth repeating. So often we put off our happiness. We think, I’ll be happy when my ship comes in, when I lose ten pounds (or twenty), or when I get laid. I’ll be happy when Zac Efron is sitting on my lap. And whereas there’s nothing wrong with dreaming (everybody’s got a dream), the problem with this type of thinking is that it pulls us out of the present moment, which is the only place happiness is even possible. Think about it. You can’t be happy later. Later doesn’t exist. I mean, when tomorrow arrives, it will still be NOW. And again, you don’t have to shoot for the emotional stars. You don’t have to feel the best you’ve ever felt this red hot minute. But you can reach for a slightly better feeling by opening your eyes and ears to what’s around you (life!) or by accessing a positive memory. The benefit to this exercise? It’s simple–YOU FEEL BETTER!

And you didn’t even have to go anywhere or buy anything to do so.

This is how powerful you are.

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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Your Best Is Good Enough (Blog #852)

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This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, the one who works with the mental/emotional/energetic causes of physical problems. This continues to be a trip. Today was my third appointment, and the man’s gotten more done with me than a handful of other chiropractors have in six times the visits. For the longest time I’ve been constantly aware of tension in my neck. And whereas it’s still there, now there are days I don’t even think about it. This is progress. This is good progress. That being said, the guy’s methods are weird.

I say weird but I only mean they’re weird compared to most medical people’s methods. I’ve spent a lot of time in the alternative healing community, and I’ve seen some really strange shit. Compared to that stuff, my chiropractor’s methods are really quite benign. Today he used muscle testing to get at the underlying emotions behind my long-time struggle with sinus infections. The positive word that came up (the emotion I feel before a sinus infection) was RELIABLE. The negative emotion (during and after a sinus infection) was INADEQUATE. Phew. There’s a can of worms. The last two years, which have been full of medical tests (that have basically said I’m healthy as a horse), have been filled with my trying to decide whether or not me and my body are reliable or inadequate.

The jury’s still out.

In truth, inadequacy is a pervasive emotion for me. Recently I blogged about my feeling like not enough, and I suppose this is the same thing. There’s a scene in Mr. Holland’s Opus when a former student of Mr. Holland’s, now a grownup, is shutting down Mr. Holland’s music program due to budget cuts. He says, “We’re doing the best we can, Mr. Holland,” and Mr. Holland yells, “Your best is not good enough!” Both of these characters are firmly entrenched in my psyche, the part of me that says, “Dammit, I’m doing everything I know to do,” and the part that is always demanding more. You know, The Perfectionist. The Hard Ass.

The one who’s real fun at parties.

This afternoon I read Transforming Fate into Destiny: A New Dialogue with Your Soul by Robert Ohotto. It’s glorious. Read it and give it to all your friends for Christmas. But really. In a New Age/Self-Help culture that claims you can manifest or have whatever you want, this book is a breath of fresh air. Robert explains that, yes, we can create magnificent things in our lives. Each of us is more powerful than we give ourselves credit for. However, each of us also came into this life understanding that there would be certain limitations (or boundaries, I love a good boundary), so we have to work within those fated guidelines.

For example, no matter what I put on my vision board, I’m never going to be the first female President of the United States. (Crap.) Because I’m a man. Likewise, I’ll never be straight (sorry, ladies), be six-foot-two (dang), look or sing like Zac Efron (dang again), or have different parents. Because my sexuality, height, looks, and parents have already been decided. And so have yours.

So get over it.

Now, what I do with what’s already been decided, that’s a different story. As I understand it, if I do nothing but sit on the couch every day and eat bonbons, that’s my choice. However, in choosing to not be an active, conscious participant in my life, not only will I not mature, but I’ll also feel as if my life is out of my control. Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will run you life and you will call it fate.” Robert says, “If you don’t access direction from within, your life will be directed from without.” (Oh snap.) However, if I choose or anyone chooses to do The Hard Work and grow the eff up, well, now we’re cooking with gas. My therapist says her job is to support me in reaching my highest potential, and your highest potential is another way of talking about your destiny. What’s actually possible for YOU? Not that guy over there, but you. What, exactly, is inside you that’s eager, waiting, and willing to be born?

This, of course, is the million dollar question, and only the gods and your soul have the answer.

Also–fair warning–because all things worth having require sacrifice (of your time, talents, and ego), should you choose to pursue your highest potential, some days are really gonna suck.

I still recommend it.

Getting back to my chiropractor’s weird ways, I repeat, they’re only weird because they’re not conventional. It’s becoming more in vogue to discuss the mind-body-soul connection, but in my experience, it’s mostly lip service. I mean, when I get a headache, give me a Tylenol. And yet I know there’s more to it. This is what I’ve run into hundreds of times along The Path. This is what you’ll run into when reaching for your highest potential or working to transform your fate into destiny. You’ll know there’s more inside you that’s wanting to come out. But because your path is different from everyone else’s, it will feel weird, you’ll question it, and you’ll feel inadequate.

Keep going. You are not alone. Your best is good enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

On The Tools (Blog #560)

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Yesterday I started reading The Tools: Transform Your Problems into Courage, Confidence, and Creativity by Phil Stutz and Barry Michaels, a self-help book (surprise) that’s turning out to be one of the most delightful reads I’ve picked up in quite a while. Currently I’m about half-way through. And whereas a lot of self-help books suggest that the answer to your fears, anxiety, and low self-esteem is understanding where they came from (duh–it’s your parents’ fault), the authors of The Tools say that such information by itself doesn’t provide dramatic change. Rather, in order to get the results we all want, we need a set of actions or behaviors to which we can turn whenever stress rears its ugly head.

In other words, we don’t just need to THINK something, we also need to DO something.

We’ve all had the experience of having a bad day, ruminating on negative thoughts, or being overwhelmed by emotions and not knowing how to turn things around. Stutz and Michaels call this state of being “the maze” (because it’s easy to get stuck there), and what I like about their book is that it offers definite ways to get out of it. The caveat, of course, is that you have to practice the suggested methods. You can’t just try them once or twice and expect your life to immediately turn around (bright eyes).

“Turn around, Bright Eyes” is a song lyric, Mom.

That being said, I’ve been toying around with one of their suggestions–the reversal of desire–today and have already noticed a difference. As I understand it, the reversal of desire essentially has to do with fear. That is, we all have certain things we would like to happen in our lives, but often don’t take action to make those things happen because doing so is uncomfortable–or outside our Comfort Zone. The authors put it more bluntly–between everything you have and everything you want is a certain amount of PAIN, and that’s what you’re afraid of experiencing (like, the pain of being rejected). But pain, they say, is the doorway to your desires, so rather than working so hard to avoid it, we could just as easily say, “BRING IT ON.”

I know this sounds twisted, but stick with me.

This afternoon I knew I “needed” to pay bills, an activity that typically induces a certain amount of anxiety for me. But rather than doing something else and AVOIDING the activity (and thus producing an immediate sense of relief), I told myself, I’m not afraid of a little anxiety–bring it on. Well–there must be something about WELCOMING YOUR FEELINGS–because I actually experienced significantly less anxiety while paying my bills today than I normally do.

On a roll, I applied this same strategy to some other paperwork I’ve been putting off–something I’ve known would take me a long time to complete. For over a year I’ve been thinking, It’s more than I can handle. But today I told myself, I’m not afraid of a little panic–bring it on. And whereas I still felt overwhelmed as I began this project, I nonetheless started it and got about ten percent done, which is ten percent more than I’ve had done for the last twelve months.

Another exercise Stutz and Michaels offer is to imagine your shadow. (Picture a situation in which you feel totally insecure and visualize all your feelings as having a physical body and face.) When I did this exercise, I immediately saw myself as an awkward prepubescent wearing elastic-band shorts with all my ribs showing and my butt being as big as a bowling ball. (It’s still as big as a bowling ball, but the rest of me has grown into it.) Then I saw myself in a number of “dorky” family photos that–until today–I would have done ANYTHING to have destroyed forever. These embarrassing self-images apparently came up because one way of describing your shadow is that it’s all the parts of yourself that you’re ashamed of.

But–

The good news is that–according to the book–your shadow is also fearless, and you can therefore visualize it standing beside you whenever you’re scared shitless. For me, this makes sense. I think about that awkward kid, and whereas even now I’m embarrassed of some of the things he did, said, and wore, HE didn’t give a single fuck. He had all the courage and bravery in the world. (It would take all the courage and bravery in the world to wear THOSE shorts.) But seriously–he simply wanted to express himself–and he did.

We all want to express ourselves.

I tried this visualization earlier when I went for a run, and it was really beautiful. I thought about that brave kid running with me–in THAT outfit–and felt freer and more energetic than I have in a long time. And get this shit. I smiled at strangers–people I’d normally be afraid of. Someone waved in my direction, and even though I thought they were probably waving at someone behind me, I waved back. It felt good to be friendly. When I noticed my socks didn’t match, I started to worry. What will people think? But then I thought about that kid again and remembered that both of us are MUCH MORE than our outfits.

Besides, ANYONE can wear socks that match.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are surrounded by the light.

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On Dreaming of Dead Bodies (Blog #519)

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I’d intended to do nothing today. Well, nothing except read, that is. You know, go easy on myself. Maybe take a nap, rest. And whereas that’s exactly what happened for the first part of the afternoon, the rest of the day has gone to pot. For one thing, our air conditioner broke, which means the house has been getting gradually hotter with each passing hour. And if that weren’t enough, our freezer stopped working too, which I noticed when I walked into the garage and stepped into the River Jordan.

“It probably just needs defrosting,” Dad said

“Like my sex life,” I replied.

So that’s been the evening. Right in the middle of dinner, the air-conditioner repair man showed up, then the freezer thing happened. So everyone’s been running inside and outside, the guy working on the air conditioner, and me, Mom, and Dad transferring all the food from the outside freezer to the inside one–cramming-cramming-cramming everything from TV dinners to chicken wings inside and–since all of it was covered in water–making a big damn mess in the process. Then we dragged the freezer into the driveway, hooked up the water hose, and sprayed the caked-up ice inside until it disappeared like all my hopes and dreams.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

Now it’s seven in the evening, and I’m straight-up irritated, mostly because I’d rather be reading a book or visiting some friends who invited me over earlier. But instead there’s the freezer project and this, the blog project. I mean, some days writing is a real source of inspiration and relief for me, and other days it’s just a pain in my ass. Like, there are times I’d like to chunk my laptop across the room and give the internet my middle finger. Seriously, I don’t recommend trying to become a better person. Just watch Netflix. Self-help and personal growth, let along sharing your every thought with the entire virtual world, is for the fucking birds.

And as if ALL THIS weren’t enough to get me worked up, now there are a million flies circling around me, the result of the back door being opened and closed so many times this evening.

Shoo, fly, shoo.

For two out of the last three nights, I’ve dreamed about dead bodies. In last night’s dream, I was trying to dispose of a dead body, first in a large body of cold water, then in a trash can. And whereas my therapist says dreams like this are good because dead bodies represent the discarding of no-longer-useful parts of one’s personality, they’re still not fun dreams to have. Again, in last night’s dream, there was an entire row of giant trash bins filled with trash. That’s good because it means I’m discarding a lot mental and emotional junk I don’t need. But still, there was a dead body–and all that trash–there was even blood. Talk about gross. Not exactly the best way to start your morning.

I say all this to point out–once again–that personal growth isn’t everything the books in the self-help aisle make it out to be. It can be a real bitch at times–ugly and uncomfortable. Because what do you do when a part of you–even a not-so-useful part of you–dies? What do you do when you’re USED to having a lot of mental and emotional STUFF around, then suddenly it’s no longer there? Personally, I find that part of me wants to celebrate The Great Letting Go, and part of me wants to hang on. Ugh. It’s so disorienting, so frustrating. You think, If I’m not that person with all that trash, WHO am I? And WHAT exactly AM I becoming?

I still don’t have an answer.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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