Things that have happened since we last spoke–

1. A good night’s rest

Last night I slept for over ten hours. I’m convinced that my recent commitment to going to bed earlier and getting more rest is doing me nothing but good. I’m starting to covet it, even protect it. Each night I use a pair of clamps to attach a dark blanket to the frame around my window. Then I lay another blanket in front of my door that leads to the hallway. In essence, I turn my room into a cocoon. It’s this odd ritual, specifically designed to keep the light OUT. At least until I awake.

When I started this blog a year and a half ago, I’d only write in the wee morning hours–between midnight and six in the morning. So much good has come from it. Now I’m convinced–the darkness* is where we heal ourselves. At least until we awake.

*the place where our shadow lives, that part of us we’ve ignored, stuffed down, or forgotten about; the place where solitude and stillness exist; the place where you can hear yourself and meet yourself; the cocoon in which you transform

2. A bizarre dream

Early this morning I dreamed I was taking a shower, a common dream motif for me. (I’m sure it has to do with coming clean, bathing in the waters of my consciousness/unconsciousness.) Anyway, then I was throwing up moths–yes, moths–the kind that circle around your front porch light. Hundreds of them. There they were on the floor of the tub, most of them (but not all of them) dead. Some of them, I think, were still stuck in my throat. A friend or doctor said something about a prescription, but I didn’t recognize the name of the medication.

What this all means, I’m not sure. I associate moths with irritation, since they’re always eating holes in my shirts or flitting around my face. My sense when I woke up from the dream was that it had to do with my currently upset stomach, so maybe there’s something about the hundred things in my life that are irritating to me and my internal desire to voice them (moths to mouth). As my therapist says, “Get the poison out.” Or maybe I’m learning to not keep everything inside (throwing up the moths) and am closer to healing (the friend or doctor) than I realize.

3. An encouraging number

After breakfast I stepped on this scales and was delighted to find out that I’ve lost between one and a half and two and a half pounds since beginning my exercise program and “moderate” diet ten days ago. And whereas I hadn’t worked out in a few days and was thinking of giving up “this shit” altogether (because I obviously can’t do things perfectly), the number on the scale reminded me that small actions, taken not perfectly but consistently, produce results.

As someone once told me, “It’s not what you do 20 percent of the time. It’s what you do 80 percent of the time.”

So I worked out. Later, I ate a sensible dinner.

This isn’t brain surgery.

4. A moment of courage, a moment of kindness

This evening I went to the house I’ve been cleaning up for friends in order to roll their trashcan to the curb for pickup in the morning. However, since I’m working all weekend elsewhere, I wasn’t sure about getting the trashcan off the curb. Finally, I worked up the nerve to ask the neighbors down the street, who were hanging out in their driveway, if they could do it. I thought, Marcus, It’s okay to ask people for help. So when one of the daughter’s (I’m assuming) rolled their trashcan to the curb, I introduced myself and asked her for the favor. Well, she just acted confused, like she didn’t know if she could help or not. Shit, I thought, this isn’t brain surgery; it’s a trashcan. (In her defense, I’m guessing she’s in school all day tomorrow and that’s why she was unsure. Plus, teenagers suck at communication.)

Thankfully, her dad (I’m assuming) came over later and said he’d be glad to roll the trashcan back up the driveway after the trash truck comes tomorrow. And he was so nice about it. “No problem, brother,” were his exact words.

Again–
It’s okay to ask people for help.
People are kind.

5. A magical book

Yesterday I started reading a book called Into the Magic Shop by James R. Doty, MD, and tonight I finished it. I absolutely adore books like this–ones you can be absorbed into, be spellbound by.

Doty’s book is part autobiographical, part informative (he’s a neurosurgeon, so this IS brain surgery for him), part instructive (on the topics of mindfulness and visualization). And whereas I’ve read so many books on mindfulness and visualization that I want to vomit up a hundred moths, this one is different in the best possible way. More than once I found myself weeping as Doty describes his painful childhood, his desire for a better life, the magical woman who miraculously showed up and taught him how to open his heart and have everything he could ever want, and what has ultimately brought him happiness. (Hint–it’s not what he thought it would be.)

Doty says, “It’s easy to connect the dots of a life in retrospect, but much harder to trust the dots will connect together and form a beautiful picture when you’re in the messiness of living a life.” Amen. For anyone (like me) who’s waiting and desperately wanting the dots of their life to be connected, Doty’s story offers hope on almost every page. It’s a glorious tale gloriously told.

I don’t know what else to say. Read it.