Underground (Blog #1065)

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Today I’ve been thinking about gratitude because recently–really without having to try too hard–I’ve come across a handful of extremely helpful things. Upper cervical care of my neck and headaches, a new therapist for resolving trauma, a myfascial release practitioner for releasing constrictions, and–most recently–a woman who’s helping me better understand my personality and the way I was made to best function and be of service in the world. When I told my (regular) therapist about how I met this woman (I randomly told an acquaintance that I was hungry, and they invited me to join them and a friend, this personality whiz, for lunch), she said, “If that’s not kismet [fate, destiny], I don’t know what it is.”

“I know,” I told her. “So many wonderful things have happened lately. I get so focused on what’s NOT working (currently I have an ice bag on my hurting hip) that I forget to be thankful, but it truly is wild how these things have come about.”

Y’all, for years I’ve been both praying and working my ass off for answers, for healing. And whereas I certainly still have problems, I am starting to make some progress. In truth, I was probably making progress all along and simply couldn’t see it. You know the way a seed sprouts underground and sends out roots long before anything breaks above the surface. My point being that it’s easy to feel like you’re getting nowhere when you can’t see evidence of progress. Likewise, it can be difficult to feel gratitude when things aren’t one hundred or even seventy-five percent better. But it’s important to 1) be grateful for any and all progress and 2) acknowledge an answer to prayer when you get one.

I don’t know. We read all these stories about how Jesus told the lame man, “Get up and walk.” Like it happened that fast. We say, “It was a miracle.” And yet when WE HEAL over the course of several weeks or months we think, Whatever. No big deal. Like the healings and good fortunes in our lives AREN’T miracles because they didn’t come in a flash, with fireworks. And yet miracles come at all speeds, in all shapes and sizes. Rarely do they announce themselves. When I met this woman the other day, who truly did help me out and provide a lot of peace of mind in terms of loving myself “as is” and not comparing myself to others, there weren’t any trumpets. Just an empty restaurant and a bowl of chili.

More and more I believe we really don’t know what heaven is up to, or what it’s capable of. We imagine we do, but when the divine begins to act in our lives, when it sends us help just like that, we dismiss it. We say, “What a strange coincidence.” Rather than recognizing these events as answered prayers, as graces. That’s what I see my being hungry as the other day. A grace. Like, God wanted me to meet someone but couldn’t just drop her in my lap. So that morning he sent me the thought to eat a light breakfast, and then down the rabbit hole we went.

The mystic Meister Eckhart said, “God is bound to act, to pour himself into thee as soon as he shall find thee ready.” And whereas I don’t claim to be ready (whatever that means) or to be filled with God, my point is that if you’re asking God for help, know that you can expect an answer. What’s more, as Caroline Myss says, know that when “that side” plays ball, they play to win. In other words, expect that–when the time is right–your life will be flooded with any and all help you need–to heal, to succeed, to help others, to fulfill your purpose.

In other words, Buddy, get ready. The team that’s got your back can seriously make shit happen.

For the last two days I’ve been obsessed with Charlie Puth’s song “Patient.” It’s about a boyfriend who’s begging his girlfriend to “please be patient with me” as he learns to be the man he knows she wants and needs. But when I hear it I imagine that the divine is asking me to please be patient with it. Because although it’s capable of healing or doing anything in the blink of an eye, more often it doesn’t. More often heaven answers our pleas over time because we need time–to change, to adjust to a new way of thinking, a new way of being. So please, just because things aren’t happening as fast as you’d like, don’t believe that things aren’t happening. For you and through you. Underground, seeds are sprouting. Roots are being laid down. In places you can’t see and in ways you’ll never understand, your cries for help are being answered.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

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On Pulling Taffy and Cracking Nuts (Blog #614)

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This morning, on crutches, I went to see my chiropractor and my massage therapist. (It’s a two-for-one deal.) And whereas it took all the energy I had, I’m glad I went, since they focused on my shoulder that’s been bothering me for over a month now. Plus, my chiropractor adjusted my hips and back, which he said were out of whack because my right side has been compensating for my left side, which makes sense, we both agreed, since I jacked up my left knee this last weekend and haven’t been able to walk on two legs since.

Just call me Hop-along Cassidy.

This is always a challenge for me, taking care of one part of me when another part of me isn’t working. I’m such an all-or-nothing person that I either want to be “all engines go” or give up completely. Like, if my leg doesn’t work, then screw my shoulder, my sinuses, and the dry skin on my elbow. Perhaps this is a childish inclination. I just get so overwhelmed, paralyzed. Of course, it’s not logical to stop attending to every little problem simply because a bigger one comes along, so, despite my limited mobility, I’m trying to continue initiating acts of self-care.

For example, I saw my chiropractor and my massage therapist today, and I’m still brushing my teeth twice a day.

After my appointment was over, I got a call about scheduling my MRI. And whereas I was hoping it would be this week, it’s going to be next week on Monday. My mom said she had to wait a full two weeks for her MRI when she was first diagnosed with cancer, so I guess six days isn’t that long.

This afternoon I started reading a book about time. So far, it’s mostly about one’s personal and subjective experience of time, which our brains keep track of based on MOTION and CHANGE. Along these lines, research shows that time seems to fly by when we’re having a good time because we’re so focused on what we’re doing (or whom we’re doing) that our brains AREN’T keeping track of what’s moving and changing outside of our field of focus. The idea is that if we don’t perceive many things or events as having happened, we feel like not much time has passed. Conversely, the book says, time seems to drag on when we’re in pain or a miserable location (like a prison cell or the Department of Motor Vehicles) because, since they have nothing better to do, our brains are hyper-focused on every little movement and change that’s happening in and around us. We think, He stood up, I scratched my nose, she moved her finger. Oh my god! I’ve been here FOREVER.

When it’s only been six seconds.

After reading for a while, I took a nap. And whereas I wanted it to last three hours, it only lasted one. (Today, class, we’re going to learn about lowering your expectations.) Anyway, it’s weird how your body does that, acts absolutely exhausted, tells you it could sleep for days, but then won’t even take a decent nap when given the chance. What the hell? Ugh. I wish I could sleep until next week. Actually, I wish I could sleep until my body heals and I feel like a normal human being again. Whatever normal is. Last night on social media I saw a picture of me at the Little Theater, and I didn’t even recognize myself at first. What with the crutches and all. Plus, I WAS wearing an elf costume. But my point is, I thought, WHEN did this become my life?!

Whatever. This is my life–tired, in pain, on crutches. At least part of my life anyway. At least for now. And whereas I don’t want to IGNORE my problems, I also don’t want to DWELL on them. Rather, I want to read a book, go to the Little Theater–um–give myself ANYTHING POSITIVE to focus on, so that my personal unpleasantries won’t seem to drag on in my subjective reality any longer than they actually drag on in my objective reality. This, I think, is the power of our minds and our attention, that we can take an experience and stretch it out like a piece of taffy (That took FOREVER) or compress it down like–what’s a good analogy?–a nutcracker (There, that was quick and relatively painless).

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

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on patience (blog #14)

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This afternoon I submitted an essay I wrote in a writing contest, and I noticed I felt uncomfortable as I was completing the online submission form. Well, wait. My therapist says “uncomfortable is not an emotion,” so I guess it would be more accurate to say that I felt nervous, or anxious, or afraid. Honestly, it’s probably the same way I felt when I hit the publish button for this blog—vulnerable—except I wasn’t shaking as much, and I didn’t feel like my bowels were about to fall out in the middle of the magazine section of the Fort Smith Public Library.

So it could have been worse.

My first thought about what I was feeling is that it had to do with my fear of being judged. My second thought is that it had to with fear of being judged. But after banging my head against the wall for the last thirty minutes trying to figure out where this story is going, I think that feeling of nervousness, anxiety, and fear had more to do with the fact that I’m not being patient with myself.

I’ll explain.

About a year ago, I noticed that I was getting really frustrated with just about everyone in my life. Sometimes it was my dance students, sometimes it was my parents, and sometimes it was the checkout person at the grocery story. It was like I just wanted to scream, “Why the hell can’t you figure this out?” to everyone I came in contact with. When I talked to my therapist about it, I said, “I wish I could be more patient.” And I don’t even think she thought about it very long before she said, “Well, you’re not very patient with yourself.”

Well, for someone who spends a lot of time reading self-help-spiritual-love-your-neighbor books, this was a real buzz kill because I thought I was further along the road in terms of patience. I must have obsessed about it for a couple of weeks. I even talked to my friend Craig about it. (He’s a retired therapist, so I guess it counts as an official second opinion.) Craig said it was possible for me to be patient with myself, but just not in certain circumstances.

When I took this second opinion back to my therapist, she agreed. She said, “I imagine that you’re really patient with yourself when you’re learning to dance.”

This evening I taught a dance lesson to a couple who are getting married later this month. The guy has a SUPER deep voice and sounds like what might happen if James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman had a lovechild. I mean, if cognac had a voice, it would sound like this guy. Every time he opens his mouth, I’m mesmerized. Like he could ask me to jump off a bridge, and I’d probably do it just because he sounds like God. Throw in a burning bush, and I’d be headed for heaven.

Well, the guy has seemed frustrated with his progress so far, even though he’s pretty much right on track with what’s average. Last week he said, “I have to do things over and over again before I can get them,” and it felt more like an apology than an explanation. My response was, “Good, repetition is how everyone learns best.”

When I see students get frustrated, I always try to be over-the-top encouraging because dancing really is difficult. It’s like learning a new language or learning to play an instrument. There are so many moving parts and so many things to think about all at once. It’s virtually impossible for someone without prior experience to come in and pick things up quickly. It takes time. It takes patience.

And whereas I know how long it can take to be a proficient dancer, it’s a really hard fact to get across to people. It’s like their expectations are too high, and they’re usually too hard on themselves.

Well shit.

So that’s the thing with the writing contest. My expectations are too high. I’m being too hard on myself. I’m thinking that everything I do has to be absolutely stunning, and it has to be recognized–now. But if I could take the patience I have when it comes to dance and apply it to writing—Wow—I can only imagine how much better all that nervousness, anxiety, and fear would be.

Before my lesson with the couple ended tonight, the guy said (in a really deep voice), “I’m going to get this.” And I think that’s the perfect thing because he didn’t say, “I’m going to get this—tonight.” He’s giving himself time. And isn’t that what time’s for? What I’m realizing is there’s often a long road between where you stand and where you want to be. But with patience as your traveling companion, the journey is much, much smoother.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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