Ignorance Is Not Bliss (Blog #789)

Today was therapy and therapy day. First I saw my regular therapist, then I saw my physical therapist. Now I’m so healthy I can’t stand myself. One of the techs at physical therapy noted that I was “still coming.” My physical therapist said, “He’s addicted to the pain.” I said, “I’m addicted to the progress.” This is what I’d say about regular therapy too–by simply showing up and doing the work, I realize consistent positive results.

Why wouldn’t I keep going?

Two weeks ago at physical therapy I hopped on one leg for the first time. And whereas it wasn’t pretty, it was something. Today that exercise was easier. Still not pretty, but easier. Then I jumped off a step with two legs and landed on one leg (my left, the one I had surgery on). “Like hopscotch,” my physical therapist said.

“Uh–it’s been few years,” I said.

“You know you’re in a hopscotch league,” another physical therapist chimed in.

“Yes, and I also do double-dutch jump rope on Saturdays,” I answered.

Landing on one leg was rough–shaky–but thankfully there was a rail to grab so I wouldn’t fall over. Shaky–that’s a good way to explain my experience with knee rehab. Sometimes my entire body quakes and quivers when I’m trying to lower myself down into a chair using only my left leg. Even still, I see progress. Today while lowering myself into a chair, I had more control than I’ve ever had since my injury (I tore my ACL six months ago). Also, with each new exercise, like the one-leg hopscotch landing, both my mind and body become less afraid. It’s like, Okay, we can do this.

At regular therapy, my therapist and I discussed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I read an article about OCD recently that said sometimes it takes the form of “information hoarding.” Well, you know how you can Google a health problem and all of a sudden convince yourself you have a deadly disease? Since I download, buy, and borrow books faster than I can read them, I thought, I have that. I’m an information hoarder. My therapist said, “I don’t think you’re as extra as you think you are. You’re not hurting anyone, and you’re not cancelling social engagements or missing work to stay home and download books, play video games, or wash your hands. When you get to the point that your books are piled up so high that you can’t walk in your house, then come back and talk to me about having OCD.” Then she added, “Personally, I think more people could buy a few books.”

Right?

Along the lines of people being uneducated, my therapist said, “People say that ignorance is bliss, but that’s a really ignorant statement.” Then she explained that when people lead unexamined lives, sure, there’s a certain “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” happiness in that. “But the price of self-ignorance is strife, drama, passive aggressiveness, anger, anxiety, and internal tension,” she said.

Among other things.

In terms of self-ignorance, I don’t know many people–myself included–who would gladly admit, Gosh, I don’t know much about myself. For an answer as to why, I harken back to a recent question I asked (and have often asked along The Path)–How can you know what you don’t know? Simply put, you can’t. I’ve mentioned before that I took reiki and meditation classes for years from an excellent teacher who talked about boundaries consistently. And whereas I remember hearing what she said, it didn’t sink in. It never occurred to me that my boundaries were off, even though–I can see now–they were. Likewise, despite a number of less-than-ideal relationships (both platonic and intimate), I never realized I was repeating PATTERNS, going through the same drama over and over, just with different characters. Despite my constantly reading self-help books, it took my working with a therapist (a trained professional) for me to see these things.

In my experience, you’re probably not going to wake one morning and–bam!–suddenly identify the unproductive patterns in your life and WHY they are there in the first place. Sure, you may intellectualize that your mother did this or your father did that, but chances are you won’t be able to draw a line from your childhood relationships and situations to your current relationships and situations. Not because you’re stupid, but because they don’t call it the UNCONSCIOUS for no reason. So how do you know what you don’t know? How do you bring the UNCONSCIOUS up? Simply put, you look for signs then work backwards.

I’ll explain.

Things that are unhealthy leave their mark.

Recently my car, Tom Collins, has been making a squeaking noise. Since we’ve been through this before, I know the squeaking means I need at least one new brake pad. (I should probably do something about that.) My point is that when something is wrong, there’s usually evidence of it. When you’re sick, you’ll either feel tired, get a runny nose, start bleeding out of your ears, or whatever. Like a slug that leaves a trail of slime behind it, Things That Are Unhealthy leave their mark. This same principle applies to one’s mental, emotional, and relational health. That is, if there’s something that needs your attention, your subconscious will create flare signals. It will SEND UP stress, anxiety, nervousness, conflict, and any number of other uncomfortable feelings in an effort to get you to check yourself out (rather than be checked out–or self-ignorant).

I started therapy because I was in a terrible (horrible, no-good, very bad) relationship. Looking back, that relationship was a distress signal. And whereas I could have blamed the other person (and did) or simply told myself that all my uncomfortable feelings were “normal,” I was so miserable that I had to do something about it. I had to do something about MYSELF. Because that’s the deal–if you’re arguing with the people in your life or things aren’t working at work, the answer starts with you. Only YOU can do something about YOUR problems. At the very least, I think, you have to ask yourself, Why am I willing to entertain this bullshit? In my case, I thought, What is wrong with me that I’m ATTRACTED to someone who lies and cheats (and lies and cheats some more)?

From there, I worked backwards. With my therapist, I identified A HISTORY OF PATTERNS. Slowly, we worked at breaking those patterns, at setting boundaries first with myself then with others. And I do mean slowly. Just like learning to hopscotch again doesn’t happen overnight, you don’t become self-enlightened overnight. I’m not sure it can even be done in one lifetime. Caroline Myss says, “Consciousness is expensive.” This means that becoming self-aware and self-possessed is hard work, The Hard Work. This is why people say ignorance is bliss–because they don’t want to put in the effort. They want to believe that they can “go along to get along” or simply “accept Jesus as their personal lord and savior” and not have to work out their salvation with fear and trembling. This truly is ignorance. You don’t learn to double-dutch jump rope without putting the time in.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Where Your Treasure Lies (Blog #782)

For the last two hours I’ve been procrastinating writing today’s blog. I’ve been busy, of course, doing the dishes, letting the dog in and out (make up your mind, honey!), cleaning up my hard drive (it’s too full for me to install an update), surfing Amazon for books (like I need another one). Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with this one simple task–sit down and write. Not because it’s THAT difficult to sit down and write, but because, honestly, I’ve built up a lot of mental aversion to sitting down and writing every day, every damn day. Like, it’s exhausting, and I’m kind of over it.

As I’ve said before, this is my choice. Nobody is holding a gun to my head and making me write this blog. Also, I don’t intend to quit, at least for a while. I’m committed to this process. (Before it’s over I may be committed to an institution.) All that being said, this blog is about my being honest, and I think it’s important to–occasionally–authentically acknowledge how much this project wears me out. I mean, it gives a lot, but it takes a lot. In this sense, I suppose it balances itself out.

This morning I saw my therapist, and we talked about what you and I are talking about now–procrastination, this project, and balance. In terms of procrastination (which my therapist insists “smart people” do), I said that I have several other projects I’d like to tackle, maybe before but at the very least when this one is over. “But,” I said, “it’s like I have this familial issue with essential tremors, and there’s a book about different ways to treat it that’s been on my reading list for over a year. The truth is I don’t want to read it because, what if it doesn’t do any good? As long as I DON’T read it, I can at least tell myself things could get better, and it’s the same with my other projects. As long as I HAVEN’T started them, I can tell myself that’s why I’m not currently succeeding.”

“So it’s fear,” my therapist said.

“UH, YEAH IT’S FEAR,” I said.

My therapist said that, really, we’re just as afraid of succeeding as we are failing. “Stepping into your power is terrifying,” she said. I agree. Just the thought of living a bigger, better life is enough to make me go running for the hills. Because it’s The Unknown, The Unfamiliar, THE UNCOMFORTABLE. I mean, let’s get real, I’ve already experienced the bottom of the barrel. For me, this is The Known, The Familiar, The Comfortable. I’ve already experienced being embarrassed by my station in life. Ugh. My therapist says embarrassment is one of the most difficult emotions to sit with. “But if you can do it,” she said, “you’ll eventually experience confidence–because life balances itself out.”

Recently I mentioned the principle of polarity, the idea that for every hot there’s also a cold. For every up, a down. This is what my therapist was referring to when she juxtaposed embarrassment with confidence. In other words, they are two ends of the same stick. As I understand it, this means that both emotions reside within each of us as potential lived realities, so even if you’ve been hanging out on the embarrassment side of the emotional see-saw, it’s possible to scoot your way over to the confidence side. It’s possible to pick up the other end of the stick.

The same stick you’re already holding, by the way.

Taking a thought or an emotion that’s a source of pain and turning it into a source of strength is what an alchemist would call mental transmutation or turning lead into gold. Joseph Campbell said it this way–“Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave, that was so dreaded, has become the center.” To me this means that ultimately those thoughts, emotions, and situations in my life that have been so difficult for me to experience, truly, have the most to offer me. They’re like–I don’t know–blessings in disguise.

No. That’s not right. Blessings are gifts that come to us uninvited, and I’m talking about something different. Turning lead into gold requires work, The Hard Work. There’s a concept in mythology that if you slay a dragon, you receive its power. If we look at dragons as our shadows, or those parts of ourselves we haven’t fully integrated and transformed (for example, fear or embarrassment), another way to say this would be that if we can tame our dragons, they will work FOR us and not AGAINST us. Imagine how your world would change if the emotional power that used to weigh you down were now lifting you up.

Imagine that.

But back to The Hard Work. Taming dragons isn’t easy. (If it were easy, everyone would do it.) Not because the work itself is that difficult, but because it’s painful (which makes it difficult). It’s painful to experience fear, and it’s painful to experience the death of your illusions. Said another way, it’s painful to experience the death of your identity. What I mean is that I’m embarrassed, I’m weak, and I’m afraid are all ways of labeling ourselves. And whereas they’re not the sexiest of labels, they’re still labels we hold on to. If you don’t believe me, the next time one of your friends says they’re fat or ugly, TRY to disagree with them. They won’t believe you. If they believed you, really, they’d have to change. This would mean going from The Known to The Unknown, scooting from the “I’m ugly” side of the see-saw to the “I’m beautiful” side. Yes, it’s not just that we fear to enter our caves, it’s that we also fear to walk out of them transformed–beautiful, confident, and radiant.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

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Here on Planet Earth (Blog #780)

This afternoon I lay in the sun while listening to an audio program about one’s Inner Critic. Thirty minutes on each side won’t hurt, I thought. Now I look like a lobster. Heat is radiating from my skin. What did I think would happen? Whatever. Inevitably I burn once every spring/summer, so I might as well get it over with. I’ve got my aloe vera handy. Even though it’s never–not once–kept me from peeling. (And neither have essential oils!) Oh well. Like it’s the worst thing in the world to shed your skin.

I’m speaking literally and metaphorically.

Other than the sunburn, today has been fabulous, easy-going. I read, I stretched. I drank enough coffee to wake up Rip Van Winkle. I’ve been telling my parents for weeks that I’d install grip-bars in their bathroom, and I cut and stained a 2×4 so that after it dries I can attach one of the bars to it. This evening my dad and I went to the gym, then we mixed concrete and set a post in their backyard that we’ll use to brace their fence with once the concrete hardens. I’ve made both these projects out to be “huge things” in my mind, but they’re really not. Granted, it takes time because there are steps involved. (Things have to dry!) But the steps themselves aren’t difficult or complicated.

At the gym, I did knee rehab. During one exercise that involved my TRYING to lower myself down using only my left knee (the one I had surgery on), my leg shook so much that my entire body vibrated. And whereas I wondered if anyone else noticed, I didn’t care. This is where my body is at, and this is what it’s going to take for it to get better. There are steps involved. A process to follow.

A process that involves shaking, apparently.

More and more, I’m grateful for The Process. I know I’ve talked about it a lot over the last two years, this idea that real progress is made slowly, that this requires a wheelbarrow full of patience, and that this sucks. (It does.) But it’s really been on my mind today, I guess because lately I’ve been experiencing The Results. For example, even though my left leg still won’t fully support me while going down stairs, it’s noticeably stronger than it was a month ago. I can use it to run, to jump. Consequently, I feel freer. I’ve been stretching and doing some relaxation/meditation techniques and have been having fewer headaches. There’s still a lot of tension in my neck, it just doesn’t escalate to DEFCON One as often as it used to. Even better, I haven’t had a full-blown, I-don’t-know-what-I’m-going-to-do sinus infection in over a year.

Just as I’ve been experiencing more freedom in my physical body, I’ve also been experiencing more freedom in my mental/emotional one. I don’t have a specific example, I’ve just noticed that I’m happier, less irritable, less nervous, and less stressed. My bad moods pass quicker than they used to. My Inner Critic isn’t AS LOUD.

I have this teeny, tiny thing with wanting everything to be perfect, so I’d like to be clear–things aren’t perfect. Ugh. Perhaps they never will be (at least by my standards). Still, I’ve spent a lot of time on this blog being frustrated with things in my mental, emotional, and physical life that weren’t working and a lot of time searching for hope that these things would improve. And I just think it would be shitty if I never stopped and recognized that–phew–things have gotten better. So this is me saying, by grace and The Hard work, The Process is paying off.

This is me saying thank you.

Recently I heard Caroline Myss say that healing isn’t personal, that–chances are–even if you’re a miserable human being, the cut on your finger or whatever is wrong with your body is going to improve because, simply put, our bodies are programed to get better. The sun shines on the just and the unjust. This concept–healing isn’t personal–has been on my mind lately because I used to believe that everyone else could heal (or succeed or be at peace) but that I couldn’t. That I was somehow the exception to the rule. But having seen some fabulous results lately, I’m now telling myself that good things are just as likely to happen to me as they are to anyone else. Not because I’ve “earned” them (that would be personal), but because good things happen here on planet earth.

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.

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On Being in Control (Blog #778)

It’s five in the evening. Just a bit ago I taught a dance lesson to a couple who are preparing for their wedding. Now I’m reclining outside where I’m house sitting, soaking up the sun. The dog I’m taking care of, who really is adorable, is across the yard, chewing on a giant stick. Just before I came outside, she was barking, barking, barking to come inside and–after I let her in–barking, barking, barking to go outside. Two nights ago my friend Megan couldn’t decide what she wanted to eat at Subway.

Decisions are hard.

Today’s dance lesson was number four for the couple, and we talked about and worked on transitions. Their basic moves are coming along fine–it’s usually not a big deal for couples to learn the basics–but their transitions need work. When going from one move to another, they slow down. They get off beat. (I know, I said get off.) I’m the same way when I learn something new–awkward. If my left leg is used to going forward, but now I need it to go back, that requires effort. Until it doesn’t, of course. That’s the point–at some point, your transitions become quick and seamless. You think, Step back, and your body simply does it without lallygagging or putting up a fuss.

My friend Shauna says that the difference between a professional dance and an amateur dancer is that the professional dancer is able to control all parts of their body simultaneously. Conversely, an amateur dancer can only command so much of their physical body at once. For example, the guy I worked with today could take a step back on his own, but when he danced with his fiance AND tried to take a step back AND send his arms slightly forward at the same time, his step back became exaggerated. As a result, his butt shot back, his head dipped forward, and his posture went from being upright (and correct) to slouched (and weird). I wouldn’t expect it to be any different. Beginners can usually only control one thing at a time.

If that much.

Earlier today I read an affirmation/meditation by Stephan Hoeller that I can’t get off my mind. It said, “If it is the will of my Father to strike down everything I have built in my life, may He do so and do it swiftly. I shall be free of attachment to anything or anyone.” Wow. Talk about a tall order. I shall be free of attachment to anything or anyone. I can’t even begin to list the things and people I’m attached to, the circumstances I THINK or BELIEVE should turn out a certain way. I want THIS to happen. I want THAT to happen. This is normal, I imagine, but the problem with attachments is that they’re directly tied to our experience of peace. For instance, earlier when the dog was barking, barking, barking, I ever-so-briefly got irritated. Make up your mind, honey! Not because the dog was doing anything other than being a dog, but because I was ATTACHED to a certain thought–The dog shouldn’t be barking–that was in direct opposition to reality.

This is an extremely small example–I could go on about being attached to people, relationships, or physical objects–but the point remains. Whenever I want one thing to happen and something else does, I sacrifice my inner peace. If just for a moment when the dog was going nuts, I was thrown off My Center. I went nuts. (The joke in my family is that “it’s a short trip.”) Byron Katie says if the dog’s barking and I think it shouldn’t, “I’m insane.” Not permanently, but in that moment. Why is it insane to think the dog shouldn’t bark? Because IT IS barking. And dogs bark. Just like cats meow (and throw up on your floor), the wind blows (and tornadoes tear your house apart), and bodies get sick (and die). This is reality. These things happen on planet earth.

As I understand it, just like you can practice dancing to the point that you can control all parts of your body at once, you can also work with your mind in such a way to control it too. That is, we think that thoughts are these things that just pop into our heads and we can’t do anything about them. And whereas that’s somewhat true, it’s also true that simply because a thought pops into your head–The dog shouldn’t be barking–that doesn’t mean you have to get carried away by it. This is one of the ideas behind meditation, that you can train your mind to focus on whatever you want it to and that–after enough practice–it will without lallygagging or putting up a fuss. Then if an old resentment comes knocking at your door you can say, “Sorry, not today,” and your mind will think about–I don’t know–chocolate cake. Something that makes you happy. Something that doesn’t steal your peace.

This is the hardest thing you’ll ever learn to do. I certainly don’t have it down. At the same time, I’m working on it. More and more, I think, What’s my peace worth? Am I really willing to let–you name it–a barking dog, a boy, a disappointment, a sinus infection, or my financial status move me off My Center? This, of course, means working on controlling my mind and not letting it be swept away by every damn thing. It means commanding my spirit, saying, “Hey, come back here.” This is The Hard Work. It’s what Jesus was so good at. The guards came to take him away, and Peter got “taken away” by his anger. He cut off a dude’s ear! But not Jesus. He wouldn’t let himself “be moved.” His peace was more important to him than that. Even when they hung him on a cross, he refused to let the outer world change his inner one. This is why he said, “Father, forgive them.” Not to convince God, but to convince himself, to convince his spirit to stay Centered rather than think thoughts like, I shouldn’t be hanging on a cross, or hate others, or chase resentments. Sorry, not today. Talk about a man free of attachment to anything or anyone, even his own life. (Talk about a man free.) Talk about being in control.

They didn’t call him Master for nothing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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On Original Goodness (Blog #770)

If I could live today over and over again, I would. This morning I slept in, ate a lovely breakfast (well, three eggs and canned fruit but the coffee was fabulous, well, Folgers), then read a book on my laptop for two hours. (I love reading.) Then I ran an errand and went to the library to sync my online files (the library has fast internet). Then I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill and did my knee exercises. I can definitely see improvement with my knee. It’s getting stronger, less shaky. Then I ate a burrito (well, two), and went to Porch Pickin’.

My friend Kim invited me to Porch Pickin’. She and her neighbors (and some of their friends) have been doing it for years. Every so often they get together–on a porch–and play music. Or just watch. That’s what I did (well, and drank beer). I hung out, listened, and chatted with Kim and her brother, who’s visiting from out-of-town. Granted, it was a LITTLE chilly. Fifty-five degrees. But I had layers.

This was the perfect thing, just the right amount of socialization. I think of myself as an extrovert, but, really, I hug the extrovert/introvert line. I certainly need my alone time. Time to be quiet. Time to reflect. Time for solitude. This blog helps with that. I put in my headphones, pipe in instrumental music, and drown out the rest of the world. More and more, I think it’s necessary for my sanity. It’s simply one of the best ways I have to work things out. To get what’s inside out, or at least sorted through. Obviously, this benefits me. But I think it also benefits those I come in contact with, since it means that I enter into each interaction with less baggage than I would otherwise.

So this is the formula–less baggage for you=less baggage for the world.

When I got home from Porch Pickin’, I ate dinner and caught up with Mom and Dad. Then Dad and I took out the trash, which, again, is something I’m recommend everyone do. Not just your physical trash, but also your mental trash. Your emotional trash. Last night Mom said she imagines most people, when it comes to their personalities, think, This is just who I am. Pick an adjective–nervous, irritable, fussy, nosey, high-strung, stressed-out, angry, frantic, worried, frenetic, mind won’t stop racing. But the truth is that your personality is just something you’ve created “along the way.” It’s like a mask you wear. It’s not who you really are, just like the three layers of clothes I had on tonight aren’t who I really am.

Richard C. Schwartz, the founder of Internal Family Systems, says that underneath our various personality constructs, we all share inherent qualities–curiosity, calmness, confidence, compassion, clarity, courage, creativity, and connectedness. If you’re current mood reflects these eight “c’s,” congratulations. This is who you are. If it doesn’t, welcome to the club. Meaning, there’s still work to do.

What I like about Schwartz’s theory or way of explaining things is that it assumes that these qualities come “built-in.” That is, rather than siding with the Original Sin theory (which says you were born bad, bad, bad to the bone), his theory sides with what some traditions call Original Goodness or Original Blessing. Meaning that a spark of divinity already lives in you. You don’t have to put it there. However, if it gets covered up along the way (by anger, for example, that you might use to keep people at a distance because you’re afraid of being hurt by them), you might need to do some work (The Hard Work) to uncover it.

I think of the things I’ve struggled with most of my life–being afraid, feeling nervous or less-than–and how for years I’ve simply thought, This is as good as it’s going to get. But I really don’t believe that anymore. Because as I’ve continued to work on myself and take my trash out, things have gotten better, on the inside. Now I feel more centered, at peace, at home. Stated simply, this state of being manifests itself as my being more kind toward myself and others. And, along the lines of Original Goodness, it’s not like someone has had to put “more kindness” into me, but rather that “more kindness” has been uncovered. You know how you get out of the shower and look at yourself in a foggy mirror. Everything is distorted. But then you wipe away the junk, and it’s like, Okay, there I am.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s never too late to be your own friend.

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In Solitude (Blog #767)

Earlier today I read that the spiritual life is, necessarily, a lonely one. For one thing, if you’re truly walking YOUR path, no one else is on it. Not that it doesn’t cross now and then with the paths of others, or even converge with theirs for a while, but the point remains. PERSONAL growth is not a GROUP endeavor. For another thing, when you explore your interior and choose daily (or at least weekly) to sit in and work through your thoughts and emotions, obviously nobody can crawl inside you and help you out with that. (If they could, that’d be weird.) Not that a good friend or therapist can’t witness parts of your journey, but they certainly can’t do The Hard Work for you. At the end of the day, you’re left with yourself–alone and sometimes lonely.

This is not the worst thing in the world, although there are days when it feels like it. Often, like today, I wish I had a partner or someone who could help pay the bills or shore me up whenever I feel emotionally spent. But even if I had such a person, they still couldn’t “work out my salvation” for me. I keep saying this, but this is only a job I can do for myself, only a job you can do for yourself. This (I think) is implied in Jesus’s admonition to “enter in by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and many are those who enter in by it.” That is, entering in by the narrow gate isn’t something you do with others, although following the crowd is always easier. No, it’s something you do in solitude.

Today itself was lovely. The particular details don’t matter to this conversation, but I exercised, saw some friends, and saw some family. And whereas one of my friends said, “What’s new in your life?” I didn’t have much of an answer. “Uh, my knee rehab is coming along,” I said. Because it’s awkward when someone asks you in casual conversation how you are to dive deep and say that what’s new in your life is your interior, the way you relate to yourself, the divine, and others. You can’t pull out your phone and show someone a picture of your emotional guts the way you would if you’d been to Disneyland. (If you could, that’d be weird.) Plus, inner transformation isn’t something most people talk or get excited about. And yet, you know, dear reader, that personal insights and points of growth are exciting–at least for the person who experiences them.

I know they’re exciting for me, and I’d like to talk about them more.

Maybe this sounds like an odd thing to say, considering I basically spill my insides all over the internet (or at least this website) every day, every damn day. But the truth is there are a lot of things I DON’T talk about here, either because they’re too personal or it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so. Plus, there’s an idea in spiritual circles regarding silence. Indeed, many spiritual initiates take a vow of silence. Like, keep your mouth shut, junior. I don’t know fully why. Because most people aren’t interested. Because when you talk about the deepest parts of yourself the way you gossip about celebrities, it cheapens that which is truly beyond value. Because The Path is profoundly personal and isn’t meant to be advertised–it’s meant to be walked.

It’s meant to be walked alone.

So now we’re back to loneliness.

Three of the four gospels say that Simon of Cyrene carried Jesus’s cross for him. Only John says Jesus carried it himself. And whereas I’m not here to debate the apparent contradiction in the gospels or even the veracity of the story itself, I personally think John got it right. Because when Jesus was in the garden praying, he was alone. Even his closest disciples couldn’t hang with him–they fell asleep. Because he faced the devil in the desert alone. Because he walked on water alone. Why wouldn’t he carry his cross alone? That cross had his name on it. It was HIS cross to carry. Think of the thing in your life that was absolute hell to go through but that absolutely changed the direction of your life (for better or for worse). Could anyone else have even tried to carry that cross for you? (No.) This, I believe, is one of the symbolic meanings of the cross. Our burdens (our challenges), if we are willing to bear them, to surrender ourselves to them and even crucify ourselves upon them, can ultimately transform us.

Only you are with you your entire life. You might as well get to know yourself.

I realize all of may not be encouraging. Sign up for The Hard Work–it’s tough, excruciating even, often lonely, and you won’t really have anyone to talk to about it. Still, it’s as honest as I know how to be. And despite the fact that I’m highlighting an inevitable challenge of personal growth–loneliness and solitude–I highly recommend The Path. Because ultimately you’re alone anyway. That is, only you are with you your entire life. Only you can think your thoughts and feel your emotions. Maybe you can try to share them with others (like I am now), but they are yours first and foremost, and sharing them doesn’t change the fact that it’s your job (or mine) to deal with them. Nobody else could even if they wanted to. (They don’t, by the way, they’ve got their own to deal with.) Yes, you might as well get to know yourself–difficult feelings and all–because, at the end of the of the day, you’re it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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On Myths and Where the Magic Happens (Blog #518)

“For as God uses the help of our reason to illuminate us, so should we likewise turn it every way, that we may be more capable of understanding His mysteries; provided only that the mind be enlarged, according to its capacity, to the grandeur of the mysteries, and not the mysteries contracted to the narrowness of the mind.” — Francis Bacon

Today I have adjusted to being back home in Arkansas. By this I mean that I’ve spent the entirety of the day hiding from the rest of the world. I did make a few phone calls this afternoon and am currently at the dinner table blogging while my parents watch the nightly news and my laundry goes round and round–but otherwise I’ve been locked in my room reading three different books, all of which I’m having to swallow and digest in pieces. And whereas my default is to think, Ugh. I have so many MORE books that I want to read and finish, and there’s just NOT enough time, today I’ve been working on accepting the fact that there will ALWAYS be more books than I have time to read.

And good. I’d rather be overly fascinated with and wanting to learn from life than to be bored with it.

Earlier while reading a book about fears, I started thinking about the fact that all throughout elementary, junior high, high school, and college, I was a straight-A student. At one time I would have said this as a matter of pride, but now I don’t see it as something to brag about; it’s simply a fact. And whereas school always came easily and I didn’t really have to “try hard” to get good grades, I do remember being deathly afraid of getting a B–of being less than perfect.

Whatever perfect means.

Ick. I guess I’ve never been able to completely shake the feeling that less-than-average, average, and slightly better-than-average just aren’t good enough–it’s gotta be the best–I gotta be the best. (If you identify with this thinking, I can only assume that you’re as exhausted as I am.) This “affection for perfection” is what, I think, is ultimately behind my desire for everything in my life to be just so. I want my body to feel a certain way, I want my closet arranged in a particular order, and I want my books completely read. There is, after all, nothing like a to-do list or a to-read list that’s all checked off.

But this evening I thought, Give it a fucking rest, Nancy. You don’t have to finish every book you start. What’s wrong with being a B reader?! Which felt good. Later, while updating my website and the fees I charge for different services (like teaching dance or remodeling houses), I noticed that some of the fees were formatted like this–$50/hr–and others were formatted like this–$50 / hr. Specifically, I noticed that some of the fees don’t have spaces before and after the slash and that and others do. Anyway, normally I’d go back and format them all the same, but tonight I thought, It’s been like that for four years, and just left it alone–not perfect, but part of the “good enough” club–something a B-student would do. Which felt fabulous.

Miraculously, the world’s still spinning.

One of the books I started reading today is called The Hero: Myth/Image/Symbol by Dorothy Norman. Much like the work of Joseph Campbell, it compares myths from different cultures and highlights their similarities, the point being that all the great myths, more than conveying FACTS, convey TRUTHS about a person’s individual potential. They speak about the journeys we’re on and–if we let them–have the power to transform our souls and spirits. I say “if we let them” because if you read a myth as either pure fact (history) or pure fiction (entertainment), it won’t do much for you. But if you read them as INTENDED, as being ABOUT YOU and, therefore, relatable and relevant to YOUR life, well–as the celebrities say about their bedrooms–this is where the magic happens.

As I understand it, the myths, like proper symbols, are designed to evoke or draw out of us our higher potentialities or levels of consciousness. In other words, they’re about personal transformation–transformation that, as the quote at the beginning of tonight’s blog communicates, doesn’t change “the mysteries” to fit the individual, but rather changes the individual to fit “the mysteries.” Connecting this idea to what’s happened for me today, it means that I could spend the rest of my life trying to order my PHYSICAL world around by organizing the shit out of everything and completing every book and project I start, but that would be, ultimately, fruitless and frustrating because the PHYSICAL world doesn’t need changing. My INTERNAL one does.

It is I (my way of thinking) that must enlarge.

Transformation ain’t for sissies.

I wish I could tell you that even a small shift in consciousness or seeing yourself or the world is something you can do quickly and easily, like, in a weekend. Alas, this has not been my experience. Rather, every positive change I’ve undergone in my life in terms of thinking and behaving has been long-fought and hard-won. This, incidentally, is why virtually all myths include a mountain to climb, a giant to kill, a dragon to tame, or a golden something (fleece, goose egg, take your pick) to snatch from an ogre. Transformation, the myths tell us, ain’t for sissies. What’s more, this process takes time and, as the book I’m reading says, “is impossible to hasten.” I realize this doesn’t sound like a pep talk, but the myths tell us that The Hard Work is worth all your energy and effort, which is why so many fairy tales and myths end with a victory, a marriage, a resurrection (like that of the Phoenix, the Christ, Lazarus, or even Harry Potter), or some other cause to celebrate.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to find a problem, you will.

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Making My Way Home (Blog #331)

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m almost ready to hit the road. There’s a sock hop in Missouri tonight, and I’ve spent the day getting ready. I took a shower, shaved, even clipped my fingernails and toenails. I kept thinking of that line from Scent of a Woman–“Get yourself up, get yourself together.” Then I put on a new pair of jeans along with a fresh white tee and made a delightful breakfast–fried sweet potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. And hot green tea. I feel like a new man.

I’m also ready to go back to bed.

I think the lingerings of the flu are finally over. Now I’m just back to my normal level of tired due to whatever is wrong. I’m currently listening to Natalie Merchant’s song “Wonder.” They say I must be one of the wonders, God’s own creation. And as far as they see, they can offer no explanation.

I said yesterday that I’ve been planning my own funeral. This is “mostly” a joke. I don’t know what’s going on with my body, but I don’t really think I’m dying, at least in the immediate sense. I think a person generally knows when “this is the end,” and I don’t have that feeling at all. You never know, of course, but my intuition says I’ll be around quite a while longer. (So you’re just going to have to get used to the idea.)

That being said, I have been thinking about death. Not in a macabre or morbid sense, but in an everyday sense. What I mean by this is–let’s face it–death happens every day. It’s something everyone–everyone–has to go through. Why not think about it? In my case, I don’t think I’m afraid to die. Granted, I’m terrified–absolutely frightened–of being sick and in pain. I don’t want to drown, burn to death, or have every bone in body broken and go through kidney failure. But taking that last long breath and drifting off this planet the same way I drifted in? That part I’m okay with.

Earlier I was thinking, If I were to die soon, would I be disappointed in myself? And whereas I still have a hundred things I’d like to do–like publishing a book, sharing my story, and helping others–I’m proud to say that no, I’m really satisfied with how I’ve lived my life. There’s a concept in spiritual teachings that part of our soul’s journey is to integrate–to line up our heads and our hearts as we pull all our scattered pieces back together. In short, the goal is leave this planet intact. This is why Jesus, as he hung on the cross, said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” It wasn’t about God and those who had wronged Jesus. It was about Jesus and his own personal soul, about not hanging on or being bitter, about not dying with any unfinished business. Indeed, he said, “It is finished.” His soul had done what it came to do. It could leave whole.

I’m not pretending to be like Jesus–by any means. (Although I do think I have good hair like he did.) There are still a lot of things in my life that could stand cleaning up, so I’m not putting myself on a cross here. At the same time, I realized earlier that I’ve worked my ass off these last several years to get myself up and get myself together. As much as anyone else I know, I’ve worked to own every part of my past and, at the the time, not use any of it as an excuse to be bitter, cynical, or unkind. I told my therapist recently that this work is tough stuff. She said, “You’re right, and it’s why most people don’t do it. But the reward is less anxiety and stress, better relationships, and peace.”

I think to think of this reward as coming home.

Honestly, I’m so often focused on what’s left to be done that I don’t give myself enough credit for how far I’ve come. But today I am. If only for this moment, I’m recognizing that if I were to die today, it would be well with my soul. I’ve done The Hard Work.

Toward the end of “Wonder” Natalie Merchant sings, “With love, with patience, and with faith, she’ll make her way–she’ll make her way.” With love, with patience, and with faith, I know I will too. I believe we all will eventually. We all will make our way home.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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