The Point of No Return (Blog #603)

It’s almost midnight, and my body is worn out. I’m not sure why. My energy level has been up and down lately. I’ve been sitting here in the living room for the last three hours, unable to drag myself away from a documentary my mom’s watching about Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. It’s weird, I remember when all that happened, but now all the major players are twenty years older. Which means I’m twenty years older too. Weird how time flies by like that. Recently I told my friend Matt that I started dancing when I was 19; now I’m 38. Matt said, “That means you’ve been dancing for half your life.” I said, “Thanks for pointing that out–I think.”

Half. My. Life.

This afternoon I went to a friend’s house to help them set up a new television that they bought this morning. It was a Black Friday deal. Anyway, I ended up spending the day there, working on their television, eating dinner with them, helping them with a few Christmas decorations. We laughed a lot. It was kind of the perfect thing. Unplanned, but perfect.

Now I’m really ready to go to bed. I wish I had something profound to say, but I don’t. Last night I dreamed that I was looking through the mementoes of a dead blues singer and–earlier in the dream–driving with a friend toward Division Street, a street in Fort Smith that crosses Midland Avenue. I read recently that if you keep a dream journal, you can name or label your dreams in order to help you get an idea of what they’re about. I called this one “Getting My Past in Order,” since it “felt” like what I’ve been doing lately going through old photos, at least the looking at mementoes part. As for the dead blues singer, I took that to mean that I’m working to put the sad events of my life behind me.

I’ve been chewing on the Division Street part on and off all day. On the way home from my friend’s tonight, I actually drove down Midland Avenue and Division Street to see if that would reveal anything profound. It didn’t, but my sense is that Midland has to do with “the middle,” as in balance or a mid-way point. It’s how I feel right now–in stasis–stuck in Mid Land. Like it’s too late for me to go back, but I’m not sure how to move forward. As for Division, I think it’s that “getting my past in order” thing. That is, in any hero’s journey, there must be a line drawn in the sand. A point of no return. The past, with all it’s sadness and limitations, must be left behind you. Because you can’t take it with you wherever you’re going. It’s just too heavy.

And have you seen what the airlines charge for baggage these days?!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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The Hero’s Journey (Blog #46)

For over an hour, I’ve been scrolling through my phone looking at old pictures, desperately searching for inspiration—something, anything—to write about. So far, the closest thing I’ve found is the above picture of my mom, my nephew, and me. It was taken a couple of months ago over spring break when my nephew came to visit from Albuquerque. In the picture, the three of us are staring at an issue of Highlights, a children’s magazine, and we’re looking at a cartoon, searching desperately for hidden objects—hats, shoes, light bulbs—that have been drawn to blend in with their surroundings.

Since starting this blog, this picture is what writing feels like to me. From the moment I wake up in the morning, I look at everything that happens as potential fodder for writing. Mostly, I go through every day thinking, There’s got to be a story here SOMEWHERE. Today I’ve looked everywhere for that story, including the nap I took, the taco salad I ate, and two years worth of pictures, and now I’m thinking this—

If there’s such a thing as a muse, I think mine’s a he, and he’s only given me one thing today, one idea that won’t turn loose—a movie I watched this afternoon called Manchester by the Sea starring Casey Affleck. The movie is about a janitor from Boston who moves back to his former home of Manchester when his brother dies. While in Manchester, he’s confronted with a painful past that continues to haunt him. Basically, I regret to inform you, the story ends there. Two hours of my life, and this is what I got from it—a sad guy has some sad stuff happen and stays sad.

Since watching the film, I’ve been thinking that my fundamental problem with it is that there’s not a character arc—the hero—the main character—doesn’t change—and change is essential to good storytelling. Think of how boring The Wizard of Oz would be if Dorothy never struck out on the yellow brick road, never faced her fears. (I’ll just stay here with the Munchkins, thanks. The end.) What if Harry Potter looked at Voldemort and, like Casey Affleck’s character, said, “I can’t beat this”?

What kind of a hero would that be? Obviously, no hero at all.

No one’s story should end on the ground.

I believe that good stories should entertain us, but I also believe that they should speak to the human spirit, and my problem with the film is that it portrays the human spirit as something that can get permanently stuck, and I don’t think it was designed to do that. Sure, we all get knocked down at times, but I don’t believe we were meant to stay down. No one’s story should end on the ground.

Personally, I’ve been through a lot of shit, and every little piece of it has been talked about in therapy. One of the things I love about my therapist is that there’s always space to put all my problems on the table, and there’s always compassion for what’s happened and how I’m feeling, but there’s not a lot of room for self-pity or playing the victim. I can be down for a while, but I can’t stay down because, simply, we both know I’m capable of more.

I believe we all are.

I guess in a subtle way, it’s one of the messages I’m trying to communicate, both to myself and others, with this blog. When I scroll through my pictures, I’m reminded that on the outside, I haven’t changed that much. But on the inside, I’m nowhere near the person I used to be. Not only do I have higher standards and better boundaries, but also I’m less cynical and less afraid, which makes me kinder and more confident. All of that, I think, is a really big deal.

So I don’t believe you have to stay where you are if you don’t want to. Rather, I believe you are the hero of your own story, and you can strike out on an adventure, and you can find what you’ve been looking for. And guaranteed that adventure will take you places you weren’t expecting, just as sure as what you’ve been looking for isn’t what you really want. But along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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