Today I finished a house sitting gig, so this morning I went through my last-day routine–wash the sheets, clean the dishes, put everything back in its place. Then this afternoon before leaving I took my bags (yes, I have multiple bags) one-by-one to my car, Tom Collins. This is honestly one of the only drags to living temporarily in other people’s houses. There’s a lot of stuff shuffling on the first and last days–bags of clothes, books, an exercise mat and foam roller, groceries. Gosh I’ve got a lot of shit. Fortunately, although it does take a while to load and unload all my stuff, I don’t have to go through TSA with any of it.
Now that would be a real nightmare.
This evening I taught a dance lesson to a new couple, then went to a local bookstore to read. I’d be good with doing this every day–sticking my nose in a psychology book. My current challenge is to not take everything I read so seriously. For example, if a self-help book suggests several exercises to try, I’m working on not seeing them as “required.” My therapist says I’m so hung up on completion. (True, and it’s getting better.) “But you could just choose one or two exercises to do,” she says. “Or not do any of them at all.”
There’s a novel thought.
This evening I picked up Subway for me and my parents, and ended up chatting with the girl who made our salads. I asked about her tattoos, and she told me she got one of them for her best friend who committed suicide. Wow, you never know what’s going on with someone. Also, it’s amazing what people will tell you if you show the slightest bit of interest.
After getting the salads, I ran to Walmart to pick up food for our family dog, Ella. While there I bought a two-dollar hairbrush. Y’all, I don’t think I’ve ever purchased a hairbrush before. Talk about confusing. There were so many options. Anyway, that’s not my point. My point is that since my hair has gotten long I’ve been using an old hairbrush I’ve had since–I don’t know–I was a teenager. Literally, it’s falling apart. And gross. Let’s not forget gross. But here’s the real deal–because I’ve been putting off buying a new one just to save a few bucks, every time I use the old one, I feel poor. Inevitably part of me thinks, This is all I’m worth. So as much as being helpful, the new brush is for me a symbol of I’m worthy of good things.
Things that work.
I’ve used this symbolic approach in a few areas of my life lately. For a while I’ve been losing socks or simply wearing them out. So earlier this week I started fresh–I bought a new pack. Then I went through my old ones and got rid of the ones that were gross or stretched out. At the same time, I threw away a few ratty shirts. What’s the point in keeping them? Again, they just make me feel like I’m–I don’t know–one of the kids in Oliver!
The word that’s been on my mind today is ritual. When I got home from Walmart tonight, I one-by-one unpacked my bags, hung up my clothes, and put everything in its place. While I did this, I threw out a few more things, rearranged my sock drawer. And whereas I’ll be packing things back up for another gig before the week is over, it feels really good now for everything to not be haphazard. As I understand it, this is what rituals (including how you get dressed in the morning and the way you go about eating a meal) do for us–they provide much-needed structure. They ground us.
Tonight my dance couple said they’d already been online looking for shoes. This is another ritual–buying new things when starting habits or hobbies–and it’s something we do intuitively. It’s a conscious, physical act that communicates to our unconscious, I’m serious about this. This would be my suggestion to anyone wanting to make progress in any area of your life–weight loss, writing, decluttering. Turn whatever it is into a ritual. You’ll be more likely to succeed. It’s why I blog every day, usually while I listen to the same music. It’s why I, on a regular basis, sort through my stuff and throw or give away what I no longer like or need. It’s not that I CAN’T hold on to things–there’s nothing inherently wrong with that–but I know that if you hold on to one thing in your life, you’ll hold on to other things in your life as well. So I want my entire system (body, soul, spirit) to get the message–We let go easily. We don’t cling. We’re worthy of new things, things that work.
Recently I told my therapist I’d dreamed I was on a toilet taking a shit. “Really?” she said. “Yeah,” I said, “I have a lot of bathroom dreams like that.”
“THAT’S VERY AUSPICIOUS!” she said.
Her point was just this. What do you do when you go to the bathroom? You get rid of toxicity–waste–that which is no longer useful to you. Shit is what’s left over after your body has garnered all the good it can from your food. So my dreaming about going to the bathroom means the same thing is happening in my unconscious–in my beneath-the-surface thoughts and emotions. That is, I’m getting rid of that which is no longer useful. I’m taking the good from my experiences and ditching the rest. (Bye, Felicia.) So in both my outer and inner worlds, I’m letting go. This isn’t a coincidence, since what’s happening outside usually mirrors what’s happening inside. Not that it’s always easy to see, of course. This is what a ritual helps with. It draws a clear line between two things that aren’t otherwise obviously connected. You let go of old clothes, you let go of old beliefs. You get your room in order, you get your mind in order.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.
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