The Way Life Progresses (Blog #134)

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Okay, I just paid my credit card bills for the month, and my blood pressure is still within normal limits. Phew. Glad that’s over. Now it’s 3:23 in the morning, and I’m in downtown Springfield. The television in the living room is still on. My friends Anne and Andy are asleep. Their three cats are God-knows-where. Most importantly, their books are organized.

I’ll explain.

My job today was to “feng shui” Anne and Andy’s bookshelf. Like me, they love books, and most of them have been piled-up in no particular order, along with several knick knacks and such, on the bookshelf in their hallway–and it’s been that way for years. Anne said, “Please help,” so I said, “Sure.” Here’s what we started with.

Okay, I thought, this might take a while. (I was right.)

The whole project took even longer than expected because I moved books and knick knacks from the living room to use in the hallway, which meant I had to redecorate the living room too. More than once I thought, I don’t know what to do, but I just took it one step at a time. First I found a bunch of colored glass bottles in the desk in the living room, pulled them out, and decided they needed to go on top of the desk so they could be seen. Then I added the glass bottles from the top of the bookshelf, and a theme became apparent–blues, greens, and browns. I didn’t take a before picture, but here’s the after. I just love it–it kind of makes me want to own things again just so I can arrange them.

The furniture in the living room is neutral–grays, wood, glass, and metal–so I kept the color on the shelves to a minimum. A little red, a little green. I placed the heavier objects (books) toward the bottom of the shelves and the “lighter” objects up top, since I didn’t want the shelves to feel like they were going to topple over. Also, I added some larger books to the coffee table because I think every coffee table needs large books. Again, no before picture, but here’s where we ended up. I didn’t put the cat on the couch, but I do think she complements everything quite nicely.

Finally I went back to the bookshelf–the original project. Shit, I thought, I just used up all the good books in the living room. What am I going to do now? So I started digging around in the guest room (my room when I’m here) and found some Raggedy Anne and Andy dolls, which I paired front and center with a Raggedy Anne book I found on the bookshelf. Then I grouped the non-fiction books together (yoga, martial arts, home decor), the fiction books together, and the vintage (old) books together. When it was all said and done, after four hours of work, here’s what happened (from a different angle because you can see better).

I don’t know if anyone else gets excited about this sort of thing, but I sure as shit do. It’s almost orgasmic to me to make everything pretty, get stuff “right where it belongs.” I mean, being anal-retentive and hyper-organized can really drive you crazy, but if there’s a benefit to being so fucking picky, this is it–you can have nice bookshelves!

This evening I helped Anne and Andy and their staff tear down from today’s wedding and set up for tomorrow’s. We swept and mopped the floor, rearranged tables and chairs, added tablecloths, and restocked the bar. (Can you imagine actually living above a fully stocked bar?) When we finished, we ate leftover cake from today’s wedding. Who knew you could get the best part of a wedding without having to attend one?

Just because it’s pretty, here’s what the cake looked like before.

Here’s what it looked like after. And no, I did not eat every piece of cake in the photo–but I did eat two of them.

This afternoon Anne said she thought it would take us four hours to tear down and set up the ballroom. Well, most everyone helping had worked plenty of times before, so I guess they had it down to a science. All the tables and chairs got moved to one side, then the floors were cleaned, then everything was moved back. One table at a time, two chairs at a time. All the while, Anne and Andy played music. I whistled. Then all of a sudden, we were done–in about two hours instead of four.

Tomorrow the couple getting married and their friends and family will take over. One by one they’ll pour into the ballroom and decorate it. One by one they’ll come back after the ceremony, eat food, drink beer, and celebrate. Before midnight, maybe two hundred people will leave the ballroom the same way they came in–one step at a time.

I suppose our entire lives are lived this way–one step at a time. We brush our teeth, we make the difficult phone call, we go the funeral, we eat two pieces of cake. (Well, some of us do.) So often I start projects like redecorating a bookshelf or writing a blog, and then I get overwhelmed and think, I don’t know what to do next. But without fail, something happens, I do something, even if it’s just scratch my head, move one blue book from here to there, or write one word. There, that’s one word that wasn’t there before.

Byron Katie teaches that most of our suffering or stress (but only all of it, she says) is caused by our believing thoughts that aren’t true. Something terrible happens–maybe someone dies–and we think, I don’t know what to do. (She asks, “Does this thought bring peace or stress to your life?” My answer: stress.) But then we cry, or eat a casserole, or get up and go to the bathroom. So the reason the thought “I don’t know what to do” is untrue is because, in the moment, you do know what to do–you’re doing it.

There’s a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace.

It seems that this is the way life progresses–moment by moment. Projects go undone for years, then one day they get finished. You live your whole life single, then one day you’re married and there’s leftover cake. We get so worked up, so stressed out about the little things, the big things in our lives. We think, I don’t know what to do. We think, I can’t wait. And yet there’s a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace. I suppose we forget that we too are like the planets, part of a larger universe that is always proceeding one step at time, never in the wrong place, everything always right where it belongs.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

Everything Is All Right (Blog #123)

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Currently I’m in Springfield, Missouri, at the Savoy Ballroom, where for the last two days I’ve been eating and sleeping upstairs and dancing downstairs. This afternoon I took a nap. (Please alert the media.) Y’all, naps should be a required activity for adults in America. What a shot in the arm. I feel like a kid again. My brain is working. What a great life. Honestly, the only thing that could make this place any more magical would be a fire pole. Just imagine–wake up from a nap, slide downstairs, dance.

Perfection.

Last night my friend Matt (who’s teaching dance now and in the photo above) and I rearranged furniture and decorated the dance studio in the upstairs apartment. The challenges were 1) the room has a lot of weird angles, and 2) the room is really four rooms in one–a dance studio, a guest room, an exercise room, and a “the rest of our crap goes here” room, and 3) we couldn’t put any furniture in the middle of the room because people have to dance there. So Matt and I scratched our heads for about an hour (no, THAT won’t work EITHER), and finally decided to “do something even if it’s wrong.”

It took a few hours, but we finally figured it out. I don’t have any “before” pictures, but here’s what we ended up with. This is the view when you walk in the room. The “dance/music section” is on the left (partially pictured here) and extends to the middle of the room. The “exercise section” is in the back right corner. My most favorite part is the Apple poster with Pablo Picasso that says, “Think different.” Notice how his shirt matches the piano keys beneath it. Because the wall behind the piano is concrete, we decided to hang the poster by fishing wire from the exposed pipe behind the air duct. It was our way to “think different.” I said, “We’re just following directions.”

This is the view from the back of the room. On the left (on your right as you walk in) is the “guest room section.” The screen on the far right is by the doorway. To the right of the TV is an old wooden music stand with a book on it called From the Ball-room to Hell, which is no-kidding about the evils of dancing. Maybe it could be subtitled Dancing Your Way to Damnation (And What a Way to Go). I’m reminded of Mark Twain’s quote, “Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.”

As Billy Joel said, “The sinners are much more fun.”

Here’s a close up of the “dance section,” to your left as you walk in, straight across from the couch. (You can see it in the mirror in the picture above.) Isn’t that the cutest thing you ever saw? The dress is the one Anne wore for the opening night of the Savoy.

This afternoon after my nap, Anne and Andy and I went next door to eat Peruvian food (yum). Next door! In the course of conversation, we talked about what it was like living with my parents. I said, “You know, Mom and Dad are pretty cool. Of course, sometimes they (and by they I mean Dad) know how to push my buttons.” Then Anne said the best thing ever.

“Well sure they know how to push your buttons–THEY MADE THEM.”

Seriously. Is she right or is she right?

Now there’s a flash mob class in progress. I met one of the couples (Della and Dusty) before when I was here for a sock hop. They recognized me by my name because they used to live in Van Buren in the eighties. I guess when our house burned down, it was a pretty big deal. (It was a pretty big deal.) Anyway, Della told me tonight that her husband had gone downtown (where the car accident and subsequent fire happened) that evening, but he hadn’t called to say he was okay. She said she was sure he’d been hurt. Then she said, “It’s really amazing you weren’t home that evening.” I said, “My parents went to dinner and had planned to get a babysitter for me and my sister, but they couldn’t find one. Several years ago a lady who used to take care of us told me my parents called her that evening. She said she lied and said she was busy so that she could hang out with her friends.”

Let’s hear it for liars (sometimes).

Today I’m fascinated by how one life touches another, how a tragedy that happened in a small town over thirty years ago can create a point of connection for two people, and then how those same people can be brought back together in a beautiful ballroom long after the deep sigh of relief that comes with surviving a near-miss has been breathed. Still I’m fascinated how part of me remembers the fear like it was yesterday, how even writing about it now makes my eyes water up. I look around at all the people dancing and it’s still such a relief–everything is all right.

Earlier tonight I watched Matt teach two of his students how to do the frog jump, which is an aerial I taught Matt a few months ago. I watched him talk about how to take time to prep, how the girl’s hand needs to stay under her belly button for support, how they need to do a rock step when it’s all over. And whereas I’m not Matt’s only instructor, I feel like it’s fair to say that most of that came from me. Watching Matt, I felt like a proud dance parent. Watching his students, I felt like a proud grandparent. Naturally, everything I know came from someone else, so I think that just as one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

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Keep Showing Up (Blog #122)

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The last twenty-four hours have been packed with dance, which means I’m currently out of Ibuprofen. Seriously, maybe I should take up knitting or–even better–watching TV. Those activities would surely be easier on my body. Speaking of my body–if anyone with any authority is reading this–I’d like to request a different model for my next lifetime.

Last night I drove to Tulsa to meet my friend Matt (from Springfield) to Lindy Hop. (There’s a weekly swing dance in Tulsa.) When I got to the dance, I immediately spotted three of the coolest people I know–Gregg, Rita, and Marina–at the same table. (Birds of feather.) Gregg and Rita and I used to travel to Lindy Hop dances together, and they’ve watched me grow as a dancer, brought me hot tea and Happy Meal toys when I’ve had the flu, and heard me snore (and we’re still friends). They’re also one of the few people who still call me “Sparkles,” which I think is kind of cute. (But that doesn’t mean YOU can do it.) As for Marina, she’s who I want to be when I grow up. I mean, anyone in their nineties who wears a t-shirt that says, “I’m awesome–deal with it” is a role-model for me.

I left the dance early to eat with Gregg and Rita, who were meeting their son and some of his friends. Afterwards I drove to Springfield (which Matt had done about an hour earlier) and met Matt to eat again. Sometime about three or four in the morning I met my friends Anne and Andy (like the Raggedy dolls) at their dance studio/home in downtown, said hello, and proceeded to crash on a futon in their guest room and immediately enter into a coma.

When I woke up this morning, I honestly didn’t know where I was. My alarm was going off, and I think the muscle relaxer I took last night was still in effect. But I finally figured it out. (I know where I am now.) I’d come to Springfield to work with Matt (and Anne and Andy) on aerials. Even better, my former dance partner Janie had agreed to help out.

After breakfast we all met in Anne and Andy’s studio, which is one floor below their home in the same building. (Talk about easy!) The objective today was to work on a move called “Around the Back” (because you go around the back), also known as “The Frankie” (because it’s credited to Frankie Manning, one of the original Lindy Hoppers and probably the most famous). Before we tackled it, we warmed up with some other moves, and at one point I tweaked something in my upper back/low neck area. (Advice–don’t have a car wreck and then, less than a month later, spend three hours throwing another adult through the air.) Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I can still feel my toes.

Here’s the move we spent the move we came to work on. Considering it’s been six years since we’ve tried it together (or at all), it went pretty well. Matt did a great job too, even though he wore a headband that made him look like he was doing Jazzercize. And since I just made fun of his headband (which I really have NO room to do), I’ll just go ahead and say that when I followed today and Matt threw me in the air like a sack of potatoes, I squealed in giddy delight.

Anne said, “You’re such a girl.”

I said, “I know I am.”

Here’s a move we did–just to see if we still could. (We still could–Yippee!)

Okay, y’all, we might have a problem. I just picked up a glass of water to lift to my mouth, and I think I actually heard my arm say, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Yep. I overdid it.

Anyway, after three hours of that jumping around nonsense, we were all pretty much spent. So Janie took off, and then I taught a couple other private lessons that Matt had lined up for me, but–thank God–neither of them involved lifting, throwing, jumping, or anything else the Good Lord intended only for teenagers and people who don’t eat cake for breakfast. So after that Matt and I joined Anne and Andy upstairs for dinner, and then I took advantage of their heated/vibrating recliner.

I think it’s okay to say that after we hit the two-hour mark this afternoon, Matt started getting frustrated. He was tired and couldn’t get Janie fully “around his back,” even though he’d had some wonderful successes earlier. I mean, thirty to forty-five minutes of aerials should be the limit, since muscles fatigue. And whereas I understand getting frustrated–I’m constantly frustrated that I’m not “better”–today was Matt’s first attempt at “Around the Bak.” Comparatively, I can’t tell you the number of hours–and injuries–Janie and I have logged over the years in order to learn what we know.

So many hours and injuries. So–many–anti-inflammatories.

I always tell people that learning to dance is like learning a new language–it doesn’t happen quickly. And even though I’m still attracted to the idea of the miracle–the instant cure, the overnight transformation–so far most of my successes have come from slow and consistent determination. A little practice here, a little practice there. My therapist told me once that I’m steady like a ship. When I look at the progress I’ve made in over seventeen years of dance or over three years of therapy, I still want to “be better.” But I have to admit–I’ve come a long way.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into a pat-myself-on-the-back session, although my sore muscles could probably use it. (Yours probably could too–pat yourself on the back!) But I think there’s something to recognizing your successes. Even more, I think there’s something to recognizing all the steps you’ve take toward success–all the times you’ve fallen down and gotten back up again. When I first started dancing, over a dozen of my friends started with me. Within six months, they’d all quit. It’s not that I had more talent–I still wouldn’t say that–it’s that I just kept showing up. That’s the only secret I’ve got for us today–for dance, for therapy, for writing a blog–whatever–be interested, work hard (ish), and keep showing up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are surrounded by the light.

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