Knowing (Blog #1079)

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What a long day. Yesterday I spoke about, upon my sister’s recommendation, stocking up on food and supplies for my family. For the next month. Because of COVID-19. Well, today was more of the same, since Walmart didn’t have many of the things on our list last night. This afternoon my dad and I went to Sam’s (which, incidentally, was seriously picked over in terms of chicken, beef, and paper products), Aldi’s (where we found chicken thighs at one location and dog food at another), and Walmart (where we finally found chicken breasts, ground beef, ground turkey, and pot roast). This after I went to Walmart (for a prescription), the health food store (for elderberries), and Target (for distilled water) this morning.

In the midst of my running around, I had an hour-long discussion about COVID-19 with my best friend Justin. I always call Justin whenever I want to know something because he’s super smart, well-informed, and level-headed. And whereas I don’t have time and it’s outside the purview of this blog to relay everything he said, Justin basically said, yes, stock up so that you can comfortably survive a quarantine, limit exposure, and avoid the madness. “The last thing you want is to be standing in line at the pharmacy waiting on your blood pressure medication with everyone coughing on you,” he said.

This makes sense to me. So thanks to my sister and Justin, I’ve now spent the last two days preparing. Granted some people refer to preparing as panicking, but there’s a distinct difference. There’s a lot of middle ground, room for common sense. Because I’ve been to half a dozen grocery stores in the last two days, my common sense tells me it’s smart to take this seriously. Pandemics don’t fuck around, especially if you’re in certain age and/or health categories, and neither do scared/worried/concerned citizens who want to be able to wipe their butts during a pandemic.

I’m trying to tell you that toilet paper is almost impossible to find.

But don’t worry. “French people have been living without toilet paper for centuries,” Justin said. “It’s called a bidet.”

As Crocodile Dundee said, “To wash your backside, right?!”

This evening my parents and I spent a couple hours rearranging our refrigerator and freezer and getting everything we bought today put on shelves in our pantry. Of course, my mom has already started a list of things we forgot. Ugh, you don’t realize how much stuff you use and depend upon until you start thinking that stuff may soon be difficult to come by. Anyway, I’m worn out. It’s been a full day of go, go, go, and I’m spent. At the same time, I’m still wired, thinking, What else do we need to do? Alas, at some point, after all our hand washing, all we can do is wait. Yes, we can be prepare, take good care of ourselves. (“Getting good sleep is essential to a strong immune system,” Justin reminded me.) But we can’t control everything, certainly not a virus. (They don’t historically take orders from well.) At some point we have to surrender. At some point we have to admit that we’re human. Vulnerable. Temporary.

Even if it’s not from this, sooner or later, we all have to go.

This being said, more and more I’m believing in our bodies’ phenomenal capacity to not only adapt but also to heal. Earlier this week I did EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) on a major car accident I was in when I was fourteen, which for over twenty-five years has left me feeling “vulnerable.” Well, the major message I got from my body during the EMDR treatment was, “We know what to do.” I wish I could adequately convey how deeply I felt and heard this, that my physical organism wanted me to know, “We have good instincts, we’re smart, we know how to survive, we know how to get through things and be better after the worst has happened.”

Of course, I was like, “Who, me?”

This really has been the longest journey, coming to trust myself, coming to believe that I’ve come equipped with everything I need to “make it” on earth. And yet I am coming to believe this. Not just because I read it in a book somewhere a long time ago or because my therapist says, but because I’ve experienced it in my being. And whereas I know the path I’ve taken isn’t the path for everyone (or even anyone) else, I do wish everyone this same knowing. Even if, in the beginning, it’s just a hoping. The conviction that no matter what happens, no matter how ugly things get, we’re going to be okay.

At least in our souls, if not in our bodies.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Aren’t you perfect just the way you are?

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If You Had to Leave the Planet Tomorrow (Blog #1078)

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It’s three in the morning, and–good lord–I need to keep this short. All day long I’ve been engrossed in conversations about and preparations for COVID-19. Perhaps this is rightly so. Cases are popping up, well, more than anyone would like. Consequently, schools are closing, small and large gatherings are being canceled or postponed, and people are washing their hands like crazy. (Some, I understand, for the first time in their lives.) This afternoon I went to the library and learned they’re wiping down their hard surfaces with disinfectant three times a day. Scrubbing the outside of books like it’s going out of style. “But what are they doing about the insides?” a friend of mine asked. “What if someone sneezes on the inside of a book?”

This, of course, is what’s got people so afraid. When it comes to viruses, we simply don’t know where they may be lurking. If we wanted to, we could drive ourselves mad imagining.

Historically in these types of situations (like flu season or Y2K), it’s been difficult for me to find the happy medium between panic and apathy. Like, I’m either completely paranoid or totally flippant. More and more I’m learning to find balance. To not scare myself to death, but to not bury my head in the sand either. Along these lines, I haven’t been overly concerned about COVID-19 until recently, despite my having a sister who’s been paying more than close attention to the subject for six weeks now. “I know you think I’m crazy,” she says. Then she adds, “But you don’t know what I know.”

Granted. I certainly don’t claim to be an expert on the topic. If you watch the news, you probably know more than I do, so let’s be clear–it’s not my objective to inform anyone about the facts. This being said, I have spent a fair amount of time in grocery stores this week and am listening intently to the conversations of friends and strangers, and here’s what I know–people are afraid. At the very least, they’re cautious. To this end, the toilet paper shelves at at least two of our Walmarts are completely barren, as they are at our Target. Tonight between eleven and one in the morning, upon my sister’s encouragement, I stocked up on non-perishables for me and my parents, and there wasn’t an ounce of disinfectant to be found. Otherwise, I didn’t have much problem finding things, although they were EXTREMELY low on rice, Ramen, peanut butter, and canned soups, fruits, and vegetables.

My sister says that stocking up isn’t panicking; it’s preparing. To me this makes sense. If you don’t get sick or quarantined, fine, you’ve got some extra food. If you do, you’ve got food period. Plus, the fewer trips to the grocery store you make, the more you limit exposure to yourself and others. And even if all of this doesn’t persuade you (which really isn’t my objective here, do what you want to do), there’s the fact that plenty of other people are stocking up, and therefore certain supplies will soon become much harder to come by. Toilet paper, for example.

Honestly, and I realize this may be future fodder for me and my therapist (the people, not the blog), one of my biggest concerns when I think about the possibility of getting COVID-19 is that it could keep me from finishing three consecutive years of blogging. I think, What if I got too sick to write, or died?! What if I couldn’t finish? But then I take a deep breath and remember that the truth is, it would be okay. I’ve done more than enough here.

In this sense, I think there’s benefit in contemplating your personal worst case scenario with respect to this thing. Because, let’s face it, we’re all leaving this planet one day, so the sooner we confront our fears, the better. This is part of the reason I’m so determined and vigilant to “deal with my shit” through therapy, this blog, EMDR, and other methods. I simply refuse to be a slave to my fears if I don’t have to. So I’m like, Let’s deal with them. Let’s get them out on the table. Let’s look our monsters in the eyes.

Let’s ask ourselves, “What am I really afraid of?”

One thing I’ve realized from thinking about the possibility of dying–and dying soon–is that if I did die, I’d leave this world satisfied. Not that there aren’t a hundred other things I’d like to do and accomplish, but I really do have a deep feeling of pride and satisfaction having (almost) completed this blog. Like, I believe it was and is part of the reason I’ve been put on this planet and part of my legacy, my gift to humanity, including myself. And I’ve done it. I’ve risen to the occasion, and I’ve done it. I haven’t shared every detail of my life (that’s never been the point), but I’ve created and given something true. Not that every word is gospel, I’m just saying this is honest and real, from my heart. And I would hope that everyone, if they had to leave the planet tomorrow, could feel this good about something they’ve done and the life they’ve lived.

Like, I did it right this time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a power that comes when you meet life’s challenges head-on. Those are the times you breathe the deepest. Those are the times the waters come forth and your heart beats every bit as loud as the thunder claps. Those are the times you know more than ever—no matter what happens next—in this moment, you’re alive.

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On Settling into Your Body (Blog #1053)

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Today I’ve been thinking about, and trying to, relax. I’ll explain. Last night I listened to a podcast that said if you audibly sigh (like, AHHHH) when you exhale enough times (five to ten seems to work for me), it will cause you to yawn and, consequently, trigger your parasympathetic nervous system. Your parasympathetic nervous system being the “rest and digest” part of your nervous system, the part responsible for relaxation and healing. Your autonomic nervous system, of course, being the “fight or flight” part of your nervous system, the part responsible for hauling ass or, if necessary, kicking ass and taking names.

Naturally, we need both parts of our nervous system. The problem being, however, that the majority of us spend way too much time in “fight or flight” mode, either because we live in a high-stress environment (like America) or because we’ve suffered a trauma and our bodies haven’t completely processed (or realized its over) yet. Or both.

More and more I realize just how much stress I carry on a daily basis in my physical body. My shoulders have been tense for decades. My hips are tight. Often I can’t bend over and touch my toes without first taking a muscle relaxer and saying three Hail Marys. You get the point. Alas, somewhere along the way I convinced myself these little aches and pains were normal, a natural consequence of growing older. But having experienced some wonderful improvements in terms of headaches over the last few months thanks to upper cervical care, I’m starting to believe, like deep down and really, that freedom from chronic pain is possible. And whereas I wish I could just push a button and–voila!–be at ease in my skin, I’m learning that this type of freedom 1) comes incrementally, not instantaneously and 2) often requires practice.

Getting back to the idea of relaxation, recently I ran across a blog that reminded me of a form of standing meditation I learned through Chi Kung. Since the blog explains it better and more in depth than I could (or even have a desire to), suffice it to say that teachers of the stance claim that it can help improve posture, increase relaxation, decrease pain, and stimulate chi (energy) flow and, therefore, promote healing. You know, in as little as ten minutes a day. And whereas I can’t personally speak to all these claims, I can say that the stance has helped me relax this last week. Like, you don’t realize how much tension you carry in your body until you begin to let it go. Even a little.

Along the lines of letting go, I’ve done the audible sigh/exhale and yawn thing several times today, either when I felt like it or when I noticed tension in my neck or shoulders. I guess part of the idea behind this practice is to “retrain” your nervous system. This makes sense to me, since my normal reaction to pain (my habit) is to brace against it rather than relax in to it. Consequently, my body has learned to be uptight and on edge constantly. Which is no fun. But after just one day of consciously letting go ever so slightly, I already feel more at ease, like there’s more space here. Plus, what’s great about this exercise is that it can be done at your kitchen table, in your car, hell, in line at Walmart. This afternoon I tried it while bending over and trying to touch my toes, and, y’all, I went from not being able to touch the ground and feeling pain and tension to being able to touch the ground and feeling loose and (mostly) flexible in only six exhales.

This experience, in addition to a number of others, convinces me that–generally speaking–our bodies absolutely CAN relax and be flexible. However, more often than not, they haven’t learned to. Better said, our nervous systems haven’t been convinced it’s SAFE to. That’s what I keep reading over and over again, that our bodies create pain and stiffness because they perceive that we’re in danger, that there’s some sort of threat. And no, it doesn’t matter that you know you’re safe, sitting here right here, right now. If your body doesn’t know it (if it hasn’t fully processed your past dramas and traumas), it continues to be “on guard.”

More and more I’m grateful to my body for always trying to keep me safe. Sure, it’s frustrating when something hurts, but I’m coming to truly believe that if the brain, body, and nervous system can create pain, they can uncreate it. This is when healing really gets fun, when you begin to see what a wonder you truly are, what you’re really capable of. All of a sudden or over a period of time (and what’s the difference, really?), tensions relax, pain that showed up out of nowhere goes back to where it came from, and you let go of the notion that things will never get better. Settling into your body, your home, you breathe deeper than you have in years. Finally, you feel safe.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

All Bad Moods Pass Away (If We Let Them) (Blog #1030)

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Today was a repair day. What I mean is that I spent the afternoon fixing things around the house, broken this-and-thats that have been crying out for my attention for quite some time (help us, help us!), but–you know–you’re not always in the mood to fix a leaky toilet. So you let it drip, drip, drip into the bowl. All day and all night, the water runs. Slowly, but it runs. Your utility bill goes up. A little, but it goes up.

One thing leads to another.

Along these lines, I didn’t MEAN to fix two lamps, a sink, and my parents’ leaky toilet today. I just got on a roll. I started with one lamp and kept thinking, Well, while I’m at it. One trip to Lowe’s and two trips to Walmart later, it was all done. No more lamps with faulty sockets. No more leaky toilet or kitchen sink.

Now we can see, pee, and clean debris (from our plates).

After I finished fixing one of the lamps today, my mom expressed her gratitude by telling me a story, about our friend Randy who used to travel once a year from Baltimore to visit his parents in Arkansas (he doesn’t anymore because both he and his parents are dead). “Randy said each year he’d find more and more things in his parents’ home in disrepair,” Mom said. “As you get older, you just can’t keep up with everything that breaks. Take that lamp you just fixed, for example. If it weren’t for you, we never would have used it again.” And whereas I appreciate my mom’s appreciation and am happy to put things back together, what I’ve been thinking about this evening is the fact that everything, by design, falls apart. Even if you take care of your stuff and have a live-in handyman, sooner or later all material objects (and people) go the way of the dinosaurs.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t take care of your shit or patch the holes in your jackets. You should. I’m just saying, you’re fighting a losing battle.

One thing that occurred to me tonight is that just like our physical things eventually dissolve or pass away, so do our mental stories and emotional states. Who hasn’t had the experience of being totally pissed off one day and waking up the next day (or week) completely fine? Looking back, you think, What was I so upset about? Well, where did you bad mood go? Down the toilet, that’s where.

All bad moods pass away.

Unless–and perk up here because this is my major point–we keep “fixing” them. What I mean is that if you’ve been carrying a resentment or holding a grudge for one, two, or thirty years, it’s only because you’ve been “repairing” it, nursing it back to life every time it starts to die. Once I had a dear woman tell me that for decades she’d be laying one particular concern at the feet of the cross. I didn’t say it at the time, but I thought, Why do you keep picking it back up?! Of course, I do this too, not only with my judgments about other people (and they did this, and this, and this), but also with my judgments about myself and what’s possible in my life. I think, I’ll always be this (too sick too poor) because I always have been. And yet that’s just a story I’ve told myself over and over again, a fairy tale that would gladly slip out of my hands if I’d let it, a fable that would naturally fall apart if I’d only stop putting it back together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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There Are Other Cards to Pull (Blog #993)

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Hum. What to say? This morning I saw my therapist then ran a few errands–returned a frame to Hobby Lobby, hit up (as in browsed around, not robbed) a used book store. Anyway, I ended up buying a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and a print–a page torn out of an art book–of a painting called Christ Discovered in the Temple by Simone Martini. In it a teenage Jesus has his arms crossed and is looking rather put upon by his parents, Mary and Joseph, who are clearly upset with his running off to teach the elders without first asking their permission. Which just goes to show that even our lord and savior couldn’t make all of the people happy all of the time.

So we might as well quit trying to.

This afternoon I met my family at Village Inn for Free Pie Wednesday. This is one of our new traditions, and–as per usual–I had WAY too much coffee with my slice of apple pie. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Regardless, by the time I left the restaurant I was wired for light and sound. Even now, at midnight, I’m buzzing. Alas, this is what balance looks like for me lately, not me always walking the middle of the road, but me sometimes overdoing it, like today, and me sometimes under-doing it, like when I fast. More and more, I’m okay with this. As my therapist is fond of saying, we like to think that life is black and white, but the truth is–it’s gray.

This evening I got a haircut (trim), then my friend Justin helped me install a new battery for my laptop. Of course, by helped me install I mean he did it for me. This being said, the battery still needs to be calibrated (charged, fully depleted, then charged again), and I’ll do that part. So, as always, it takes a village.

And a Village Inn.

Go team.

While I was at the bookstore checkout counter today, another gentleman bought a book using store credit. I guess you can bring in books to sell and, instead of taking cash for them, take a trade out. Anyway, the clerk opened a file drawer full of index cards and started searching for this guy’s last name. Then the guy said, “I’m in here all the time, so just look for the card that’s highlighted yellow at the top.” Well, sure enough, the clerk found it lickety-split, pulled it right out. “That’s cool,” he said. “We should do that for other customers.”

“Well it wouldn’t work if you did it for EVERYONE,” the guy said.

Later I was thinking about this whole interaction and how our thoughts and emotions are like the notecards in that file cabinet drawer and how each of us has certain highlighted or go-to responses for any given situation. Like, a lot of guys get ANGRY whenever something goes wrong; a lot of women CRY. Never mind the fact that there are a hundred other ways to respond to whatever’s happening, that’s their highlighted card.

So that’s the card they pull.

Personally, I often pull the “I failed / I did something wrong card” whenever things don’t go perfectly, especially if someone else is upset with me. This has been one of the huge benefits to having a therapist. Whenever I experience stress in a relationship or situation, she helps me by offering a different perspective, by suggesting I pull a different card. “Here’s another way to look at this,” she’ll say. For example, we often discuss the irritating or off-putting behaviors of people (friends, family, self-help gurus, and even ourselves), and she’ll offer a reason WHY someone might behave the way they do. This helps me not only be more empathetic and understanding, but also more kind and–this is the biggie–more at peace.

My point in all this is that MOST of the time, our responses are habitual. Someone cuts us off in traffic, we get stuck behind one of those coupon users at Walmart, or a loved one doesn’t return our text and we go down the rabbit hole of entitlement. Like Jesus’s parents, we think, This isn’t going as I planned! We see the world in black and white–MY WAY and THE WRONG WAY. Over and over again we pull the card that says, “This sucks. Life isn’t working out for me.” In the process, we forget that there are other ways to think and perceive, that there are other cards to pull. Just as easily, at least with some practice, we could pull and eventually highlight the card that says, “Sweetheart, breathe. Be patient. Everything is working out here. Everything is working out for you.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Freedom lies on the other side of everything you're afraid of.

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On All the Pretty Things (Blog #986)

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Today I’ve been thinking about power. Specifically I’ve been thinking about the fact that no physical object has any power whatsoever except for the power we give it. For example, recently I attended a show and noticed two (I’m assuming) homosexuals who were wearing rhinestone brooches, one on his sweater, the other on his jacket. Well, as someone who loves a good button, I thought this was absolutely fabulous. Really taking things to the next level. Seriously, having spent my entire life only seeing females wear brooches, I was mesmerized, not only by these men’s courage, but also by their creativity. I thought, You go. Fuck gender rules.

Getting back to the idea of power, I’d like to be clear–these men and their brooches were only enchanting to me because either on a conscious or unconscious level I decided they were special, unique, and attractive. That is, anyone else–maybe you–wouldn’t have even noticed. Or if you did you might have thought, That’s stupid, That’s gay, or I would never. All the while we would have been staring at the same shiny pieces of jewelry, which, by the way, can’t DO anything other than sit there and sparkle. This is what I mean by objects having no inherent power or value. Even if a hundred people or the entire world agreed–THESE are beautiful brooches–they’re just material objects.

This morning I saw my therapist and casually mentioned “the brooch-wearing homos” (my therapist and I aren’t politically correct with each other), and she said, “I used to have a male client who wore a different brooch with every outfit, and it was stunning.” Encouraged, and despite the above-stated facts about things just being things, after therapy I went brooch shopping. (Things I’d never thought I’d say.) Well, I ended up at an antique store with hundreds and hundreds of vintage and newly handcrafted brooches. And whereas I’ll spare you my feelings of overwhelm (how you women–and drag queens–afford all your accessories, I’ll never know), I will say that I ended up buying three brooches, one of which (a fleur-de-lis) I proudly wore for the rest of the day.

Again, although I went “right to” this particular pin, there have obviously been dozens if not hundreds of shoppers who thought nothing of it. I’m sure others picked it up and thought, I wouldn’t pay $14 for that! And yet I thought it was perfect–a steal–because it matches the fleur-de-lis on my favorite vintage sweater and includes my favorite color, blue. But is it INNATELY beautiful and stunning?

Only because I think it is.

Only because I’ve given it power.

Having sold most of my worldly possessions at an estate sale, I’m highly aware that simply because I value something doesn’t mean anyone else does. Oh my god, I had antique chairs I paid over a hundred dollars for that sold for twenty. Fuck it, I eventually thought. It’s only stuff. It’s only money.

What I learned from my estate sale is that, although I occasionally miss some of what I sold, I didn’t and don’t NEED any of it. I look around my room now at what’s left and what I’ve acquired since, and I don’t need any of it either. Sure, it’s nice to have a comfortable bed, warm clothes, and plenty of books to read. I love my framed artwork, my magnet collection, and my three brooches. I think they’re pretty, fun. But do I require these object to be happy, to live a full life?

Let me be clear–I do not.

Now, don’t go getting the idea that I’m a monk who’s taken a vow of poverty. Picture that! A brooch-wearing monk. No, I clearly enjoy pretty things and shiny objects. Several weeks ago I lost one of my favorite rings, and tonight while I was rearranging my jewelry tray to accommodate my brooches spent over half an hour trying to remember where I lost it (to no avail). So even though I’m clear that my ring (which obviously isn’t mine anymore, if it ever was) only has meaning because I think it does, I still find it hard to let go. This is the thing with letting go. Sometimes you have to do it over and over again. As Madonna so rightly stated, we are living in a material world.

It’s easy to get attached.

This evening I returned an item of clothing that was too small to TJ Maxx and some lightbulbs that were too bright to Walmart. Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen these places. They were jam-packed with Christmas shoppers. And whereas–sure–I got caught up in both places looking at “all the pretty things,” I also realized the ridiculousness of it all. What I mean is that most of us THINK we need more stuff when we have SO MUCH already. We rush around, we push people over, and we buy, buy, buy. But standing there in the midst of it all, I thought, The stuff’s not making us buy it, we’re doing that. We’re breaking our backs to have things that will end up at consignment shops when we die. (Your mother’s antique brooch will end up on a forty-year-old gay man.) Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself that even though I was surrounded by a warehouse full of shiny objects, I didn’t NEED any of it–to feel love in my heart, to be kind to another, to feel good about myself.

Said succinctly, things can’t make you feel good about you. Only you have that power.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our world is magical, a mysterious place where everything somehow works together, where nothing and no one is without influence, where all things great and small make a difference.

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On Inner Gargoyles and Grotesques (Blog #966)

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For the last two days, for whatever reason, I’ve been tired, tired, tired. Fortunately, my life is such that I can rest. That is to say, I’m not a mother. God bless y’all mothers. You never get to sleep. Hang in there, they’ll grow up one day. Then you can rest. Anyway, back to me. (My dad tells everyone, “Marc’s blog is about HIM,” and I’m like, “DAMN RIGHT, it’s called ME and My Therapist”). Okay, this morning I slept in and then, after breakfast, read a book about gargoyles and grotesques, those nasty looking, often highly sexualized creatures that decorate medieval churches. Now there are some guys and gals who don’t get to rest. According to the book, one of the purposes of grotesques (aside from being homages to local gods) is to scare away demons, and you know THAT’S a full-time job.

Speaking of full-time jobs, this afternoon I took a shower. I can’t tell you how much I hate the fact that a person has to do this multiple times a week in order to be socially accepted (except at Walmart, of course). But I digress. After cleaning up (and putting on my clothes) I taught a dance lesson then had a session with my chiropractor who works with emotions. Lately he’s been using a technique that involves tapping into however you feel NOW (frustrated, scared, embarrassed, vulnerable) then remembering the first time you ever felt that way. Then he says, “Picture that child and tell them, ‘Whatever you’re feeling is okay. There’s nothing wrong or inappropriate about your emotions.” I really like this, the idea that there’s no such thing as a bad emotion.

This evening when I got home from my chiropractor’s, I took nap. When I woke up I was still tired, but whatever, clearly my body wants to rest. This is something I’m learning to be okay with. I’m also learning that I don’t need to know WHY my body needs to rest, I just need to give it what’s it’s asking for. So often I get frustrated because I can’t decipher what my body’s messages mean, but–being tired–that one seems pretty obvious. Like, duh, go to bed. Anyway, after my nap I ate dinner and took out the trash, now here I am, writing.

Today’s post is #966 in a row, and that means post #1,000 is only 34 days away. (Incidentally, Christmas is also 34 days away. And no, I didn’t plan this.) Along these lines, I’ve been thinking about the eventual ending of this project (I plan to continue until March 30 or 31, 2020), how scary that is (because then what?), and what I’ve learned from it. And whereas I plan to go into these ideas more in depth over the next several months, the largest lesson I’ve learned has centered around the idea of meeting myself. (Like my dad says, this blog is about ME.) For example, earlier tonight I was frustrated (about being tired and, well, my life), but when I sat down to blog, it was like part of me relaxed because I knew that I could work through it. That’s what these 966 days have taught me, that no matter how I feel or what kind of day I’ve had, there’s a space within me that can hold it. THIS is a full-time job of course–taking care of ourselves and consciously working with whatever arises right here, right now–but it’s worth it, I’m convinced of that.

Another theory I’ve read about gargoyles and grotesques is that they represent one’s inner demons. So many people say that our job is to SLAY our dragons, but others say our job is to HUG them, to welcome them in. I like this idea and have found it to be true, at least more effective. Whenever I’ve tried to push an emotion or icky situation AWAY, it’s only gotten stronger. But when I’ve said, “Sweetheart, you have every right to be here. Talk to me,” it’s calmed down, relaxed. The book today referred to several of the gargoyles and grotesques as hideous, gross, or repulsive. But I kept thinking of that song “Everything Is Beautiful In Its Own Way” and how some of those little monsters were actually kind of cute. This is a matter of perspective, of course, and that’s my point. If there’s something you don’t like about yourself–or someone else for that matter–take another look. Chances are, it’s not as scary as you think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Beating yourself up is a far cry from self-respect."

Together (Blog #917)

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Whenever I’m sick with a sinus infection, like I have been this week, I judge how sick I am by the color of the junk I cough up when I first get out of bed. It’s gross I know. (Don’t worry, I won’t get too descriptive.) But take yesterday for example, I hacked up this stuff that was dark and bloody. I thought, Oh yeah, I’m sick. But this morning I hacked up this stuff that was like, light yellow. So I thought, Okay, all right. Go team. This is progress. We’re on the mend.

As has been the case for the last year and a half, I credit my sinus improvements to probiotics. Not the kind you swallow, but the kind you either swish around in your mouth or sniff up your nose. I get it, it’s weird. But the idea is that sinus infections are caused by “bad” bacteria (I put bad in quotes because I’m sure the bacteria’s mothers don’t think of them as bad), and the probiotics contain “good” bacteria that crawl around in your sinuses, find those critters that are causing your nasty infection (I imagine they have to use teeny-tiny flashlights), and eat them for breakfast (with little forks). It’s sad to think about, I know. All those grieving bacteria mothers. But hey–circle of life and all that.

Assuming the probiotics I bought and started yesterday are the reason for my less colorful mucus, I’ve continued using them today. And whereas my health hasn’t miraculously turned around, I have felt better, more energetic. I’ve been coughing less. This morning I took it easy (I watched a documentary about Pixar, the computer-animated film company, on Netflix), but this afternoon I rallied and did some odd job work for a friend of mine–hauling trash to the dump(ster) and taking donation items to Savers. This evening I got out to teach a dance lesson, but when they canceled at the last minute I ran some personal errands instead. Returned non-used items to Lowe’s and Walmart, that sort of thing.

At one point in time I really flipped shit whenever a dance lesson canceled. Not because I didn’t understand that things come up, but because I get paid by the hour. In a very real sense, I count on that money. Still, these last several years have taught me that things always work out and something else always comes along. So rather than launching into my worry-wart routine this evening when my lesson canceled, I shrugged my shoulders and thought, Whatever. What-the-hell-ever. Now I can run those errands. And whereas running my errands wasn’t as lucrative as teaching a lesson would have been, it was perhaps just as fun.

I’ll explain.

Immediately upon leaving my teaching space, I saw three deer. No kidding. They’d just crossed the street and actually turned around to look at me. Stopping my car, I pulled out my camera. At this point the deer ran off. But then I looked out my other window and saw another deer, and this one let me take its picture. (How polite.) Talk about a magical moment. For this brief instant I wan’t thinking about sinus infections, lost wages, or anything stressful. I was just right there, right then. We were there together.

After my moment with the deer, I went to Lowe’s. There I told the ladies at the customer service desk that I’d like to return an item (a package of nuts and bolts). Well, one of the ladies said, “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s No-Returns Thursday.”

“Oh, no,” I laughed. “Not No-Returns Thursday!”

Then the other lady said, “Don’t worry. We’ll make an exception for you because you have great hair.”

Phew, I thought, my great hair saves the day again.

(For the record, my hair has never saved the day before today.)

I can’t tell you how much this interaction thrilled me. Earlier today I stopped by the bank to reorder checks (which I also did last week, but the checks came back with a spelling error on them–the orderer typed NPRTH instead of NORTH), and whereas the teller was pleasant and helpful, she wasn’t playful. Maybe that wouldn’t be appropriate at a bank, but my point is that we often take ourselves and what we’re doing so seriously that we miss the living, breathing people standing in front of us. We forget that we can make of any moment what we want to. We forget that regardless of our life circumstances we can have fun.

We can be right here, right now together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

Hold on for One More Day (Blog #865)

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In an ongoing effort to heal my headaches and a number of other physical issues, this morning I saw an acupuncturist. Out of the blue, three years ago this person called me to remind me of my appointment at their office. But I hadn’t made an appointment. Rather, they’d dialed someone else’s phone number incorrectly and called me instead. Shit happens. Still, two weeks ago when I decided I wanted to give acupuncture a whirl, the name of this person popped into my brain. Maybe they’re the one I need to see, I thought. You know, because God works in mysterious ways.

As for my actual appointment today, it went well. First we discussed my issues, then the lady had me lie face down while she inserted several needles into my shoulders, neck, and ribcage. “You’re really inflamed,” she said. Then she put me under an infrared heat lamp (to help with the inflammation) and left the room. Ten minutes later she returned, removed the needles and the lamp, and replaced them with cups. Y’all, if you don’t know, cups are used for a weird process called cupping in which a flame is used to remove oxygen from glass cups. This creates a sucking action, at which point the cups are stuck to your skin. The idea is that the suction pulls against your skin and fascia and helps break up adhesions.

Here are the results from my back.

The lady said that healthy tissue will turn out pink. In the photo above, reference the few (faded) circles closest to the right of my spin. Not-so-healthy tissue, however, will turn dark red or purple. Reference the spots by my right shoulder, the one that’s been giving me hell for over six months now.

After removing the cups from my back, the lady had me turn over. Then we repeated the whole ordeal–needles first with infrared lamp, then cups–on the front of my body. “I did some stuff for your hurting ankle as well as for digestion,” she said, since these were two of my complaints. When the front side of me was done, we discussed an herbal formula for my upset stomach, which she said could also help with my tight shoulders. “In Chinese medicine both things are related to liver chi [energy] stagnation,” she said. “The associated or blocked emotions are frustration and anger.”

“I feel that,” I said, but meant I FEEL THAT!

Then she added, “You may see sufficient results from the acupuncture and cupping, but the herbs could help get that energy moving too.”

“How much is a month’s supply of pills?” I asked.

“Thirty bucks,” she said.

“Hand ’em over.”

As for the results from the treatments I had done today, I’ve actually felt a difference. While on the table I could feel an increase in energy (blood flow?) down my right art. I could also feel my shoulders and neck relax. Not completely, but notably. Enough improvement to try the whole thing again. The rest of the day I’ve felt less constricted. I started the herbs tonight. We’ll see what happens.

I’m hopeful.

Today, it seems, is a day for hoping. Recently I set an intention (goal) of healing my headaches and living in a pain-free body, and whereas the universe hasn’t hand-delivered a letter to me saying, “Here’s the answer you’ve been looking for,” a number of interesting options have been brought to my attention. For one, acupuncture. For another, I randomly watched a video online that mentioned a specific book about posture, which I downloaded and started reading this weekend. I’ll say more about it later, but it mentions the importance of myofascial release, something I’ve been fascinated by for a while now. However, the book stresses releasing tension in your body in a certain order. Basically, the lower half first. Because that’s where most of our problems start (because we sit all the time, which tightens our hip flexors and causes hell). Anyway, I’ve started going through some of the release techniques.

Since I had surgery to repair my ACL over seven months ago, the inside of my left knee (my lower adductor) has been tight. Like, it’s difficult for me to sit on the floor with my legs crossed or in butterfly position because my left leg, by my knee, hurts so bad. When I asked my massage therapist and my physical therapist about it, they both suggested stretching. Well, the book I’m reading listed a myofascial release technique for the exact spot that’s been troubling me, so I did it tonight. The picture at the top of tonight’s blog shows me trying it, but basically you sit on the floor with both legs bent mermaid style and use the elbow opposite your lower adductor to apply pressure wherever there’s tenderness.

Y’all, at first this HURT like nobody’s business. However, and this is the point, after a few minutes of steady pressure, the pain went away. This means the fascia broke up or relaxed. And just like that–after months of consistent tension and pain, it was–I don’t know–eighty-percent better. No stretching required.

Obviously, all my problems haven’t been solved in one night. But I do feel like significant strides have been made today. Hell, tonight at Walmart I nearly jumped out of my moving vehicle and confronted a total stranger I saw spanking their child a hundred feet away (I hate spanking), so, yeah, I think my liver chi is moving. But I digress. My encouragement, both for myself and you, is to hang in there. Even longstanding problems can be solved. Pain can hang around for months, years, then begin to break up or dissipate in an afternoon. So keep working at it. Keep trying new things. As Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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On Autonomy (Blog #741)

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Currently it’s eight-forty-five in the evening, and I’m lying in bed wearing yesterday’s clothes. I hate that my daily selfies are a dead giveaway as to how often I take a shower and change outfits. Or don’t, rather. Fuck it. I’m not here to impress anybody.

This afternoon I read twenty pages in a three-hundred page book I started over a month ago. This made one hundred pages total. Which book doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I just couldn’t get into it, despite the fact that I often found myself smiling or laughing out loud. Anyway, even though I have a giant hard-on for completing things I start, I finally said screw it and permanently closed the cover. This is the second time I’ve done this recently and is perhaps an indication that I’m finally learning that just because you’ve invested in something doesn’t mean you have to keep investing in it.

I have a difficult time with the idea that things in life aren’t fixed or permanent. I think, If you start a book, you should finish it. Likewise, I think if you start a diet or workout regimen, it should last forever. I’m a “til death do us part” type of guy. Of course, this puts a lot of pressure on a person (me). A few months ago when I had knee surgery and started rehab, I also gave up coffee. But a week ago I picked it back up. At the same time, I started slacking on my rehab. I was out-of-town house sitting and just got out of the routine. And whereas part of me gets that “shit happens,” another part of me feels like I’m sinning–for quitting a book, for not being at the gym this very minute, for consuming caffeine (gasp).

I blame the ten commandments.

I’ll explain shortly.

After I quit the book I just mentioned, I started (and finished) one my therapist recommended about knowing your personal value. It was written specifically for women, but I found it helpful. All too often I underrate myself or what I have to offer. Too many times I’ve provided fabulous service to people in exchange for peanuts or their kind words. So they’d like me. But at the book said, compliments don’t pay bills.

One of my takeaways from the book was that YOU determine your value. Also, YOU are responsible for making sure you get paid what you’re worth or that others treat you like you want to be treated. I’m talking about boundaries. Rarely is anyone else going to say, “Gosh, Betty, we really should be paying you more for all you do around here.” Or, “You know, Jack, I’ve been thinking, and I interrupt you constantly and would like to apologize for that.” Rather, each of us has to stand up for ourselves.

This sucks and is hard to do.

Of course, before you can stand up for yourself, you have to know what your personal rules are. Said another way, you have to draw a line in the sand before you know whether or not someone has stepped over it. This is where the ten commandments come in. What I mean is that for the longest time I took my personal rules from a book–The Bible. Not just the ten commandments, but a lot of other commandments too. For example, I used to not eat pork because The Bible calls swine’s flesh (as well as homosexuality) an abomination. Think about that the next time you eat a ham sandwich. (Or sleep with someone of the same sex.) I’m not here to debate The Bible, but my point is that it’s easy to adopt someone else’s rules for your life. There’s a certainty in it. You think, The Bible says, my doctor says, my therapist says.

What’s harder, of course, is to take personal responsibility for every choice you make, to not lay praise or blame on an outside source. One of the exercises I’ve done in therapy is to write out a list–here’s what I’ll accept, here’s what I won’t accept. As an example, I don’t like it when people, especially women, touch me without being invited to (like, would you like to dance?). And whereas I’ll accept them touching my shoulder, I won’t accept them touching my hips or my butt. That’s my rule. That’s my boundary. Not because The Bible says so, but because I say so. Right or wrong, it’s my choice.

So hands off.

Having shared this rule about my personal space, I admit that I don’t enforce it all the time. Recently I ran into someone at Walmart and let them hug me even though I was anything but into it. I mean, it was midnight and I was taken by surprise. My defenses were down. If I had it to do over again or my leg worked better, I’d say, “No thank you” or run away. But shit happens. Anyway, my point is that even when we have rules for our lives, nothing ever works or is true one-hundred percent of the time. That is, nothing in life is that certain because life isn’t that certain. Said another way, life is fluid, like our emotions or the weather. We want something solid, a rule we can follow all the time, but there’s no such thing. Things are always changing.

This means our rules are always changing too. I’m not arguing for extremes in morality. I mentioned the ten commandments, but not to suggest that one day it’s not okay to envy or kill you neighbor and the next day it is. I only brought them up to say that often, for me, my personal rules (like, finish what you start and don’t drink coffee) feel as if they have been handed down to my by the heavens and, therefore, have cosmic consequences if broken. Of course, this is not the case. I made those rules up and can break them if I want to. Because, for one thing, I’m not even the same person I was when I made the rule. Like the weather and everything else in life, I’ve changed since then.

Even though my clothes haven’t.

This is the most difficult thing for me, letting myself and what I need change from day-to-day. Because I’d prefer something more permanent, something fixed, something certain. My friend Bonnie says that I thrive on a good routine. She’s right. I do. Still, I’m coming to think that routines and rules are like seasons. They last a while, then they disappear. If they come back again, fine. If they don’t, fine. I’m free to determine what’s best for me from moment-to-moment. I’m free to invest in a book, behavior, or relationship for hours or years then decide it’s no longer working for me. (Bye, Felicia.) We are all this free. We are all autonomous.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one is immune from life’s challenges.

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