On Self-Possession (Blog #873)

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Today I started painting a new room at my friend’s house that I’ve been working at this month. And whereas the room is small, it’s still taking longer than it “should” because it’s requiring three coats of paint instead of two–one coat of primer and two coats of white. This afternoon I rolled and cut in one coat of primer and one coat of white. Oh my gosh, y’all, I made such a mess–mostly on myself–because the primer and the paint splattered so much when I rolled them on the ceiling. When I took a break to see my chiropractor, not only was I covered in paint, I was also covered in sweat. I thought about going home to change, but then I thought, Fuck it.

Wayne Dyer tells a story about when he was in college and studying Maslow. His teacher said, “If a self-actualized person went to a party dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt but everyone else were dressed in tuxedos and ballgowns, what would the self-actualized person do?” Well, Dyer and his classmates had all sorts of thoughts. The guy would go home. The guy would change clothes. The guy would stay but feel embarrassed. The guy would stay but wouldn’t care. “No!” the professor said, “The self-actualized person wouldn’t notice.”

Okay. That sounds nice, right? Who wouldn’t love to go through life so self-assured that you don’t even NOTICE when you’re sticking out like a sore thumb? Alas, I’ve talked to my therapist about this hypothetical situation, and we both called bullshit. “I don’t know ANYONE with a respectable IQ that wouldn’t NOTICE,” I said. “Wouldn’t you NOTICE if you walked outside and it were a hundred degrees? Or if your tires fell off your car while you were driving down the highway?”

“I’ve known some pretty spiritual people,” my therapist said, “but I’ve never met anyone who’s self-actualized by that definition. Self-possessed, certainly. I’ve known plenty of self-possessed people.”

My therapist explained that self-possessed people carry themselves with confidence. They don’t ask the world’s permission to exist. In my experience, it’s not that you don’t NOTICE what other people are doing or wearing, it just doesn’t have a bearing on what you do or wear. Since putting my dance instruction videos on YouTube and my life in general on this blog, I’ve had both friends and total strangers tell me to get rid of my blonde hair, never wear flip flops to dance in, stop wearing hats and bandanas, stop wearing so many black t-shirts, and smile more. With all due respect, go fuck yourself. I’m an adult and capable of not only dressing myself, but also taking care of myself in ever aspect of my life. I’m not saying I have everything figured out, but whenever I need help, I have a long list of professionals whom I can consult. My therapist and my chiropractor, for example.

My point in sharing these examples is mostly to say that as you walk the path of self-possession, there will be plenty of voices that tell you you’re doing something wrong. Don’t give them much notice. Even this voice, my voice. Rather, take what serves you and disregard the rest. Just like I am, you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. The more you own your capabilities, the more the world will accept you as you are. In the last few years I’ve found I’m just as comfortable going out in public covered in paint as I am in a suit and tie. Not that I feel equally “hot” in both get-ups, but my self-worth doesn’t change. Either way I don’t worry about what other people will think or worry if they’ll be disappointed in me. This is who I am–warts and all.

It’s that simple.

Here’s one final thing to consider in terms of self-possession. A self-possessed adult doesn’t tell another adult what to wear or what to do. (Why, Marcus?) Because a self-possessed person is too busy working out their own shit and trying to be responsible for their own life to be concerned with someone else’s. Going back to Dyer’s example, this means only an insecure person would tell the guy in jeans and a t-shirt he needed to change. I mean, a self-possessed person COULD do it (if there were a rule or boundary to enforce), but an insecure person most likely WOULD–because they feel insecure, because they need someone or something outside of them to change in order for them to feel better. That’s the deal with self-possessed people. They know what’s outside them doesn’t really matter. This is why they’re comfortable in both rags or robes. It’s what’s inside them that determines their joy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perhaps this is what bravery really is--simply having run out of better options, being so totally frustrated by the outside world that all you can do is go within.

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A World Where You Belong (Blog #787)

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For the last two days I’ve been cleaning antique hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. This is turning out to be a chore. (I’m scrubbing my brass off.) Not because the work is difficult, but because there’s a lot involved, like running back and forth to the hardware store for supplies. Today I discovered that all the door hinges are not, in fact, solid brass. Rather, they’re brass plated. Or were, since my cleaning them really did scrub their brass off. Now they’re just ugly metal hinges. But never fear, we decided to spray paint them (satin brass). Some of them are drying now. Others are still in a crock pot being heated up–so I can remove the old (white) paint on them then put the new paint on.

A project like this is clearly a damn process. Take the hardware off. Put it in a crock pot. Scrub the paint off. Then either shine it or spray paint it. Put the hardware back on. This evening I bought three different types of screws for putting the hardware back, then got back to the house and realized two of them were the wrong size. Screws too short–story of my life. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) Anyway, tomorrow I’ll go back to the hardware store and try again. That’s the deal when things are a process–you just keep taking one step at a time until everything is done.

Or until you are.

While working today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said projection is a function of perception. That is, first you perceive or understand something, then you project that perception out into the world. For example, I first understood (mentally) that I needed to spray paint the hinges, then I talked to Todd and Bonnie, then I bought the paint, then I sprayed the hinges. Perception preceded projection. Over the last several years I’ve perceived a number of things in therapy–like, that I needed to set a boundary or have a conversation with someone–then proceeded to project those cognitions into my life and relationships, even on to this blog.

In a lot of New Age and even spiritual material, the world is referred to as a mirror. This isn’t to say that if you witness something horrific on the ten o’clock news that you’re horrific, but it is to say that the way you respond (mentally, emotionally, physically) has a lot to do with you and very little to do with any specific horrific thing you may see. When Donald Trump was elected, I wasn’t thrilled but I wasn’t emotional. Conversely, I had friends who cried. As the fact of the matter was the same for everyone (Donald Trump was elected), and yet there were so many varied responses, I can only logically conclude that those varied responses were due to each individual’s PERCEPTION of what had taken place and what they thought that meant or didn’t mean. My point is that we’re never just responding to what’s “out there,” but rather what’s “in here.”

Another way of saying this is that you don’t see the world as IT IS, but rather AS YOU ARE. Again, if you think the world is a terrible place, that doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person. Scared, frightened, or angry, maybe. My therapist says that if you have unresolved trauma and don’t deal with it consciously, you’ll deal with it unconsciously. “You’ll externalize it,” she said. “You’ll get involved in a bad relationship, become paranoid, or develop a neurosis.” Um, guilty–I’ve done all of the above. When I was a teenager and my dad was in prison, I became a HUGE conspiracy theorist. I despised the government. Looking back, I can see that I was simply overwhelmed and terrified, fearful that what happened to my dad would one day happen to me. But since I either didn’t know how or was unable to experience and give voice to my emotions (my perceptions), they got pushed out on to “the bad guys.” In other words, I wasn’t a scary place, the world was.

Now I think the reverse was true. (I was a scary place. The world was –the world.) Not that ugly things don’t happen in the world (and we all know the government killed JFK), but I know that how I respond to those things absolutely belongs to me. I own my emotions. If I see something horrific and get sad or angry, it’s not because that horrific thing put those emotions into me. No, they were already there. Wayne Dyer used to say that when you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out, and–likewise–when you’re squeezed, what’s inside YOU comes out.

What goes down must come up.

Hoeller says that we project our perceptions (my therapist’s word for projection is externalize) in order that we can interact with them. That is, for decades I believed and felt that the world was an unsafe place to live. This, I’m sure, had to do with our house burning down when I was a child, and then, later, Dad’s going to prison. Or maybe it was my being in a car accident. Pick a trauma. The point is that my mind, body, and emotions had definite reactions to those events, but I did everything I could to shove those reactions down and shut them off. This is impossible to do, of course, at least for very long. What goes down must come up. Again, this can happen consciously or unconsciously, but either way–you must interact with what’s inside you.

Like cleaning antique hardware, this is a damn process.

Having walked this trying-to-be-conscious road for a while a now, I’m just gonna say it’s not fun and it’s not easy. That being said, I’d highly suggest dealing with what’s inside you consciously rather than projecting or externalizing it, since that’s even worse. After all, when you’re problem is projected (over there), what can you do about it–other than become a social justice warrior? But if your problem is inside you, now we’re talking. And yet, this is why the work is hard. Looking at what’s inside you requires owning every action and reaction you’ve ever had. It means sitting with thoughts like, I was terrified. I am terrified. I’m oh-so-very scared. But once you do, I promise, the world that used to appear unsafe and frightening will change. It has to–because you did. Because your perceptions, and thus your projections, did. This is The Good News, that if you can perceive and project an unsafe world, you can perceive and project a safe one, a world where you belong.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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I’d Rather Feel Good (Blog #771)

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The internet (my hot spot) is slow. It just took me thirty minutes to get online, download tonight’s photos, log in to the blog, and get started. And whereas I’ve been tempted to get “oh hell no” frustrated–I’m tired and ready to go to bed–I’ve been forcing myself to remain calm (everybody remain calm). Wayne Dyer used to say, “I want to feel good.” (He doesn’t say that now because he’s dead.) But that’s been my reminder tonight–that I’d rather be patient and feel good than get all worked up and feel bad. Because, let’s face it, getting worked up is a choice. It’s not something you HAVE to do. If it IS something you HAVE to do (if your circumstances dictate your mood), then I’m just going to suggest you’re not as free as you might like to think you are. Likewise, if getting worked up ISN’T something you HAVE to do, then why would you do it?

Hum. Today, like yesterday, was fabulous. This afternoon I went to the gym with my dad and aunt and spent the rest of the day with my nose in a book. Well, until this evening, when I went to my friend Kim’s for dinner. Her family was there, and they grilled out. We had shish-kabobs. Talk about delicious. Then we just sat around and visited. Nothing too deep, nothing life-changing, but delightful. This is something I need more of–good conversation and laughter. At one point Kim mentioned a self-help something for me to to check out, and I said, “I’m up in that stuff CONSTANTLY–don’t make me!” Of course, the truth is I LOVE that stuff. Can’t get enough of it. But I also need a break now and then from all the navel gazing.

Seriously, I’ve got a crick in my neck.

Speaking of navel gazing, this afternoon I got (in the mail) a printed copy of Year Two of Me and My Therapist (this blog). I ordered it online a couple weeks ago from a company in California, and it finally arrived–spiral bound and everything. Oh my gosh, y’all, I felt (and feel) like a proud parent. 600 (300 double sided) pages of my writing, my life. Flipping through it, it doesn’t seem possible. But as I’ve said a hundred times before, anything is possible if you just keep showing up.

I’ve said my goal for this blog is at least a thousand days in a row, and recently I realized that, in light of this, each individual blog equals 10 percent of 10 percent of 10 percent of the whole. That is, 0.1 percent. That’s what tonight’s blog contributes to the grand scheme. And whereas part of me thinks, Geez, that’s nothing, another part of me knows that’s everything. Ten days of 0.1 percent, and that’s 1 whole percent. Ten sets of ten days (100 days), and that’s 10 percent. I won’t keep doing the math (which I’m not entirely sure I have right anyway), but you get the point. Little things add up.

This is something I keep reminding myself. I’ve got in my head to read several books in the near future, and also start some other writing projects. Both tasks intimidate me. Not because I haven’t tackled such things before, but I still worry about getting everything done and done well. So I have to keep telling myself that those projects are really no different than this project. They’re just a matter of showing up and working consistently. A hour here, an hour there. Every day, every damn day, if I feel like being a hard ass about it.

I probably shouldn’t be a hard ass about it.

Because, you know, balance.

Balance is becoming more and more important to me. Not just in terms of my work/social life, but in terms of my mental/emotional life. For example, earlier I was talking about being tempted to get worked up about my slow internet. Before this happened, I was rocking along just fine. I was even-keeled. Had I chosen to get frustrated, it would have thrown off the balance I already had going, and then I would have had to find it again. So rather than go down that road, I just stayed on the one I was already on. The more peaceful road. The everything-is-fine road. The I’d-rather-feel-good road.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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On Looking Back (Blog #686)

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It’s Valentine’s Day. No offense to anyone in a relationship, but–balloons, chocolates, and candy–ick. Clearly I’m not in a relationship. And whereas most days I’m okay with that, I admit it–today it’d be nice to have someone to take a selfie with so we could post it on social media and make all the single people out there jealous. Now, what I’d do with this person the other 364 days of the year, I don’t know. Anyway, in order to NOT be jealous of all the lovely couples out there posting pictures, I’ve tried to stay off the internet today. I say tried–I’ve only been mildly successful.

This afternoon I started worrying about finances. That’s a great thing to do on a day when you already don’t feel great. Then I started getting a headache and maybe a fever blister, so I took a nap. Sometimes this is my best strategy when I can’t find a good-feeling thought. Unfortunately, the nap didn’t last long, and I woke up still overwhelmed. But then a friend who’s a great listener and always makes me laugh called, and we solved the world’s problems for almost an hour. Now I don’t feel fabulous, but I don’t feel awful either, which I consider an improvement.

I guess there’s something about getting your worries and concerns out–saying them to a friend, writing them down on paper (or the internet) that makes them feel more manageable. I guess it gives you room to breathe. That’s something I’ve been trying to do lately–breathe. (I’ve also been trying to stay off the internet today). I feel like my body is asking me to breathe, to slow down, in a dozen different ways, and I really am trying to give myself a break. And yet there’s all this stress. Wayne Dyer says you could search the world over and never find enough stress to fill up a bucket. That is, it’s all in your head. I would add, however, it’s also in your body. When I get worked up, I get a headache, maybe a fever blister. I break out in hives.

Put me in a bucket, Wayne.

Yesterday I told myself that I was going to take myself to a movie this afternoon. Since Valentine’s is the day of love, I reasoned, I might as well spend it with someone I care about. Alas, this plan didn’t happen. Instead, I went to the grocery store, where I bought a basketful of fruits and vegetables because I’m trying to add juices to my diet. I say trying because when I got home and made my first juice (spinach, celery, pineapple, and ginger), I discovered our blender is officially a wimp. Seriously, what’s the point of having blades and a motor if you’re no match for a stalk of celery? But whatever, I made it work. And you should have seen me drinking that green stuff. I felt so freakin’ healthy.

Then I had tacos for dinner.

Earlier when I was talking to my friend, I brought up a few bad days from my past–the day my dad went to prison, for example. I said, “Compared to that day, today was a breeze.” And not that I think a day has to be the worst day ever in order to be recognized as difficult. I really hate when you’re struggling and someone says, “It could be worse” or “There are starving children in India.” Granted, it could be worse–things can always be worse–and that doesn’t mean you’re not struggling right here, right now. Still, I do think it’s important to remember that things HAVE BEEN worse–not because pain is a contest–but because looking back can remind you what you’ve come through. It can remind you how strong and capable you are. It can remind you that even the worst situations can come to an end. In short, it can remind you to–

hope.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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On Musterbation (Blog #664)

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The above photo was taken by my friend Tom Wilmer during our recent travel writing trip to Fall Creek Falls State Park in the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee. Apparently the tree in the photo is one of the most photographed trees in America, and if you Google “Buzzard’s Roost tree” you can see even more of it. I’m using the photo tonight–even though all I can think about when I look at it is how not-flat my stomach looks–in order to prove a point, which I’ll get to shortly. Plus, the photo reminds me that I used to have two functioning knees and before long I’ll be back to running around state parks, crawling around mountaintops, and–eeek!–dancing.

This afternoon I went to the chiropractor and got a massage (at the chiropractor’s office). I can’t tell you how grateful I am for these people. So often I insist on suffering, like, I can take care of this problem myself. But whenever I do break down and ask for help, I actually get it. So this is me being thankful for my chiropractor and massage therapist and everyone else who’s helped me this week–my dermatologist, my therapist, my physical therapist, and–oh!–a very nice gentleman at Kinko’s today.

The Kinko’s trip had to do with printing off and signing some paperwork to finally–finally–settle my bodily injury claim with the insurance company of the man who knocked the shit out of me over a year ago and totaled my car. This has been one of the most frustrating ordeals I’ve ever gone through. And whereas I’m not completely happy with the way it’s turning out, I’m not completely dissatisfied either, so I’m moving on. What’s done is done, and now I can think about/worry about/stress about other pressing matters. This has taken eighteen months of my life, and God knows I have plenty of other things on my mental and emotional plate to deal with.

This evening I curled up on my futon with a cup of hot tea and read several chapters in Wayne Dyer’s I Can See Clearly Now, a book that’s reminding me that there are no accidents, everything in one’s life is good and useful (although sometimes it takes years to see this), and the mind is a powerful creator and healer. In one story, Wayne describes seeing a woman (under hypnosis, I think) cause her skin to physically blister when she was touched with a rubber eraser because she believed it was a hot poker. Is that crazy or what? But Wayne’s point was that our beliefs truly can and do affect our realities, so they’re worth examining. In terms of my present health challenges, I’m personally trying to shift my thinking from This will never get better to My body is both willing and able to heal.

In another story, Wayne talks about the work of Albert Ellis, a man who greatly influenced Wayne’s thinking. Ellis, as I understand, was the creator of Rational Emotive Therapy (RET), which came before and has similarities to Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT). Both therapies contend that it’s not outside people or events that cause our unhappiness, but rather our thoughts or beliefs about those people or events that cause our unhappiness. According to Ellis, in a video I watched on YouTube, we “disturb” ourselves whenever we think things MUST be a certain way. He says the three big MUSTS are, “I must do well or I’m no good, you–you louse–must treat me well or you’re worthless and deserve to roast in hell, and the world must give me precisely what I want or it’s a horrible, awful place.”

Sticking with today’s events as examples, this theory would contend that it’s not the fact that my stomach isn’t flat that disturbs me, but rather my belief that my stomach must (or should) be any different than it actually is. Likewise, it’s not the fact that my car accident matter dragged on for over a year that stresses me out, but rather my belief that “this shouldn’t have taken so long.” Ellis refers to this kind of thinking–in which we place demands on ourselves, others, and the universe that are in direct opposition to what-is–as musterbation. Is that great or what?

“Masturbation is good and delicious,” he says, “but musterbation is evil and pernicious.”

There are no rules.

With this in mind, I’m trying to lighten up on myself. For example, normally by this time of night (12:23 AM) I’m done with the blog and already at the gym doing physical therapy, so there’s a part of me that thinks, I must finish up. I must go work out. Fuck! I’m behind. Then my mind launches into all sorts of “the world will fall apart” scenarios because I’m not obeying my made-up rules. (No one else is obeying them either, by the way.) But the truth is, there are no rules. Nothing MUST happen other that what IS happening right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A friend’s laughter takes us backward and carries us forward simultaneously.

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Jacob Holding onto the Angel (Blog #662)

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After six weeks of battling a skin rash–a yeast thing–this afternoon I called in the big guns. I went to my dermatologist. Thankfully, after a year of them not taking my insurance, they do now. This means I got to see my favorite skin lady ever, who always listens to my long list of problems attentively and non-judgmentally. (I’m never short on things to worry about it.)

For my rash, my dermatologist wrote me a prescription for an anti-fungal cream, since the powder I’ve been using has been helping but also irritating my skin. (Two steps forward, one step back.) Then she gave me a cream for a spot on my elbow that’s most likely psoriasis. Ugh, I hate that. My grandma had psoriasis all over her body, so I always envision the worst whenever I hear that word. But my dermatologist said, “Don’t freak out. I’d rather someone have psoriasis than acne. We have so many options for it now that we didn’t have ten or twenty years. We’ve got pills, shots, creams, you name it.”

I’ll take one of each.

Otherwise, we took two moles off today–one on my scalp and one underneath my right sideburn. Weird how you can carry something around on your body for years and then it’s all-of-a-sudden gone. I’m telling myself that, likewise, my other issues can clear up in a flash–my upset stomach, my irritated skin. My dermatologist said psoriasis is an inflammation, and I said, “Oh my god, every issue I have is an inflammation. My entire life is an inflammation.” Seriously, that’s what it feels like, like my body’s on high-alert. I think, How can I turn the alarm off? How can I calm the fuck down?

Despite the fact that I got a lot of good help and information today, it’s difficult for my inner hypochondriac to not freak out. You know, because now I have more labels. Psoriasis and Yeast Infection on top of Acid Reflux and Just Had Knee Surgery. It’s hard to not feel like I’m a wagon whose wheels are falling off. It’s also hard to not blame myself. There’s this thought that if I were doing all the right things, eating the right foods, taking the right supplements, and exercising more, that I wouldn’t have these problems. And whereas maybe that’s true, there are countless people who do everything “right” and still get sick and die.

Because people get sick and die.

This evening while my parents watched America’s Got Talent: The Champions, I practiced knitting. Well, just after I got started, I realized I screwed something up. I still don’t know what happened, but I ended up with more stitches in a row than I was supposed to, so I unraveled the whole thing and began again (for the third time this week). This time, I really paid attention and didn’t rush. When the show was over, I was about eight rows in with no mistakes. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, but I figure this is the deal in life. Sometimes you simply have to begin again.

And again and again.

Personally, beginning again exhausts me. Like, I’ve been fighting this yeast rash for six weeks, and now I’m being asked to apply this new cream to it twice a day for a least four more. Four more weeks! That feels like an eternity. But my friend Bonnie pointed out that, shit, I’ll be rehab-ing my knee for six months, so four weeks is nothing by comparison. Plus, I know I’m not really starting over. A lot of progress has already been made. I’m just not at the end of the road yet.

The road. The long road. Tonight on America’s Got Talent there were a number of performers who said they slugged it out for years–even decades–before their big break came along. I guess we’re all looking for a break in some respect–in our careers, in our bodies, in our relationships. We all think, I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. That’s what wears me down, not the fact that I have dry skin on my elbow the size of a quarter, but the fact that it’s one more awful thing that’s shown up and is refusing to leave. One more burden to carry down this long, long road.

In my better moments, those moments when I don’t blame myself for my problems (Byron Katie says, “Do you have to take credit for everything?”), I tell myself that I have no idea why my problems are here. When I was a teenager I would have given anything had my mom been healthy and my dad been out of prison, and yet these two challenging experiences absolutely shaped me into the man I am today–strong, independent, more compassionate than I was before. This afternoon I read more in Wayne Dyer’s I Can See Clearly Now, a book he wrote when he had leukemia, which he ultimately died from. Still, despite his diagnosis, he said he absolutely knew that the disease was in his life to grow him. No self-blame, just acceptance. This is something I’m working on, not pushing away every awful thing in my life, but rather embracing them as my teachers. Not that I don’t want my challenges to go away, but like Jacob holding onto the angel, I don’t want them to go away until they bless me.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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When Things Seem Dark (Blog #660)

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It’s 9:15 in the evening, and I’m babysitting for some friends. The kids just went to bed, and I’m curled up in the living room by the fire. And whereas my body feels like poop and I’d really like to fall asleep, I’m writing instead. Not that I’m trying to play The Blog Martyr. I get this is my choice. It’s just my leg aches, my shoulder’s inflamed, and my head hurts. In multiple ways, my body is asking for a break. I really am trying to listen, but I’m not exactly sure what it’s asking for. More sleep? I agree, that’d be nice.

Let me start again.

This morning and afternoon were filled with what’s become typical. I ate breakfast, did my leg rehab exercises, took a shower. Oh, and I practiced knitting. I figured out something I was doing wrong at the end of every row. And whereas that was frustrating and I had to start all over, I now know more than I did before. For the rest of my knitting life, I’ll be better off because I screwed up in the beginning. Anyway, then I got ready for babysitting.

When I first got here, the kids played on their devices while I started a book by Wayne Dyer called I Can See Clearly Now. Then we ate dinner and watched a movie–Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. It was the cutest thing. Alvin and his pals get stranded on a desert island (grammar joke: I’d much rather be stranded on a dessert island), and Dave comes to save them. Then we played Oregon Trail, a card game based on, well, the Oregon Trail. Last time the kids and I played this game, I died, but this time I only got a broken arm. I thought, Even in board games I can’t help but injure myself. But as one of the kids said, “It could be worse.” Amen. Hell, one of them got shot, and the other one died of cholera. So even with a broken arm, I ended up winning the game.

Now I’m back at home. Just before I finished the last paragraph, my friends got back. I said earlier that I was frustrated with my shoulder and headache, and without my even mentioning my issues, my friends recommended a stretching program that comes on public television. They said it’s helped them with a number of their bodily concerns. Anyway, I plan to check it out. Lately I’ve been telling myself that things CAN get better, that answers can come out of nowhere, so maybe this is an answer. Stranger things have happened. Two of the big points in Wayne’s book are that nothing happens by accident and that even the most difficult circumstances in our lives are there to help our souls grow. So I’m trying to remember this, that things can turn around like that and that even when life seems dark, there’s light to be found.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even if you can't be anything you want to be, you can absolutely be who you were meant to be. Don't let anyone else tell you differently.

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On Which Glasses You Choose to Wear (Blog #559)

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In my parents’ living room is a large leather recliner. It’s gorgeous, comfortable. One could really get lost in it. That being said, I’ve only once spent any significant amount of time in this recliner–when I was recovering from my sinus surgery–because my mom LIVES in this recliner. Simply put, it’s hers, and my dad and I make a lot of jokes about the fact that we rarely get to use it. Anyway, this morning while I was eating breakfast, Mom said that she’s been getting cold recently and explained, “When you sit in the recliner, it’s right under the air vent.”

So I said, “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

And then my mom, who reads my blog every day, used my own material against me. She said, “Is that what you call being passive aggressive?”

I was stunned.

“Yes,” I said. Then I added–“It’s an option.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we mostly processed my time working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. It was a good experience, of course, but it was also A LOT of information (my therapist called it a “data dump”), considering the fact that I was new to much of what was going on and also new to working with so many people and having “a boss.” Not completely new, of course, but it’s been a while since I’ve worked with a such large group or for someone else–like twenty years.

As I’ve discussed here before, I told my therapist that in new situations I often think of myself as invisible or “not worthy of being noticed,” and it’s therefore shocking when people DO notice me (which they did this last week). She said this belief was “just irritating” and needed to go.

Toward the end of our session, we talked about money. This is a topic my therapist appears to be quite comfortable with, and one I’m trying to get comfortable with. My therapist says the more we talk about money, the more my brain will begin to think, This shit’s all right. Today she said I should pick an amount of money I’d like to make a day that’s not “outrageous” but the thought of which is “just enough to make you nervous.” So I did. Now my job is to simply “will it into existence.” And whereas I understand that this sounds like a bunch of new-age bullshit, my therapist says that if I pair my current work ethic with positive self-talk, the universe will respond favorably.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I told my therapist that one of the over-arching beliefs I’ve held for–well–decades is that “maybe it’ll work for everyone else, but it won’t work for me.” Super optimistic, I know. Anyway, I’ve applied this thinking to my relationships, my health, and my finances. This is the way beliefs work–they don’t just affect one area of your life; they affect everything. Much like tinted spectacles, beliefs are the filter through which we see the world. Like, if you don’t believe in abundance, you’ll never see it. Even if you have a hundred dollars–or even a million dollars–in your pocket, you’ll think, It’s not enough.

Currently I’m sitting in a library surrounded by THOUSANDS of books and ENDLESS potential knowledge. Now, I could focus on the fact that I don’t have enough time to read all these books or the fact that there are a lot of other books I’m interested in that aren’t in this library. (Talk about lack!) Or I could focus on the fact that I have access to ALL THIS INFORMATION–basically–for free. (Talk about abundance!) The way I see it, just like being direct and being passive aggressive are OPTIONS in conversation, seeing lack and seeing abundance are OPTIONS in perspective. Yes, an objective reality exists–there are a certain number of books here. But a subjective reality also exists, and that reality depends solely on your thoughts and your beliefs, on which glasses you–and only you–choose to wear.

Wayne Dyer used to say, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” This is what I’m trying to do–gradually adjust my thinking and beliefs when it comes to my relationships, my health, and my finances. Personally, I’m tired of believing, It’s not enough. For me, it’s lazy–that is, habitual–thinking. Today I told my therapist, “I’m done believing that things work for other people and not me. (As my favorite coffee cup says–Fuck This Shit.) My new thought is–If it can work for someone else, it can work for me.

“THANK YOU!” she said.

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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As It Turns Out, I’m Regular (Blog #545)

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Last night’s post took longer than expected, and I was up until 2:30 in the morning. Then I didn’t sleep so great, despite the fact that I was exhausted. I’m blaming the beautiful full moon. Oh well, it’s not the first pretty thing that’s kept me up all night. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) Anyway, this morning I awoke early for two meetings, and I’ve been groggy ever since. Now it’s ten at night, and I’m going to try–try–to be in bed in an hour.

You can do this, Marcus.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and she pointed out that I often say, “Is that normal?” Like, I’ll go on about some feeling or response I’ve had recently, then ask, “Uh, am I a freak?” I never say it like that, but isn’t that what we all want to know? Is it NORMAL to be angry or resentful, NORMAL to be pissed off or passive aggressive, NORMAL to still be hung up on someone or something that happened years ago, NORMAL to dream of killing (or fucking) a total stranger?

Well, is it?

My therapist said, “I think it’s funny that after all this time in therapy, you still think there’s such a thing as normal.”

I said, “I see you point. Soooooo–”

“It’s regular,” she said. “Yes, it’s very REGULAR.”

So that’s good to know. My internal reactions and fantasies are REGULAR.

Like a menstrual cycle!

Another thing my therapist and I talked about was loneliness, which is something I’ve occasionally experienced along this path of self-growth, usually after having a big confrontation or “going against the crowd.” I said, “It’s difficult to speak your truth. It’s hard to live differently than everybody else.” My therapist said, “I get it. And usually when I’m lonely, I take time to let it be. I don’t force it to go away. Eventually, it does.”

After therapy I went to the library and ended up reading an entire (short) book about spirituality while curled up on a couch in one of the reading rooms. Oddly enough, the author said that a frequent response to personal or spiritual growth is loneliness or grief, his explanation being that as you become your true self (or as you become born again), your false (neurotic, worried, people-pleasing) self necessarily has to die, and this false self is what you’re missing when you feel loneliness or grief. Don’t worry, he said, you’re better off without the old you, and the feeling will pass.

Another takeaway from the book for me was the idea that whenever you’re upset, angry, resentful, or whatever, it’s good to stop and notice WHERE those feelings are taking place. Obviously, the answer is INSIDE YOU, even if someone cut you off in traffic or stomped on your toe in order to stir them up. This is a good reminder to me, that I have an internal atmosphere that I’m responsible for, and that I don’t have to entertain every feeling that invites itself over for dinner. While driving home this evening and in response to other drivers, I started to get “peeved” a couple of times–however briefly–but then thought, It’s not worth it.

As Wayne Dyer used to say, I want to feel good.

Also, I want to go to bed.

[Here’s something funny. After I named tonight’s blog–As It Turns Out, I’m Regular–it occurred to me that I once named a blog something similar–As It Turns Out, I’m Normal. So I looked it up. Strangely enough, it was penned almost exactly a year (366 days) ago.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One thing finishes, another starts. Things happen when they happen.

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On Chasing Tail (Blog #418)

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Today has been a full day. I’ve been full of coffee, consequently full of anxiety, and–this evening–full of spaghetti. But seriously, folks, I’ve been nervous all day–buzzing, even before the coffee. This morning I woke up and took my blood sugar just because I’ve been so on-edge physically. And whereas my blood sugar was a little high (my dad said it was great, but he’s a chocolate-cake-eating diabetic that thinks anything under 300 is “great”), I’m not sure that it would explain my feeling shaky. Oh well, just one more thing to talk to my doctors about next week.

This afternoon I had a follow-up appointment with my dermatologist regarding my very personal rash (where no one wants a rash). An inflammation whose cause is unknown, that’s what the nurse said it was when the biopsy report came back over six weeks ago. Thankfully, things are a lot, lot better, but not completely back to normal. This seems to be a theme with my health this last year–issues improve, but like all the flies in my parents’ kitchen, they don’t go away. (Assholes.) Anyway, the doctor today said it was technically “a dermal hypersensitivity that could have a number of causal factors.” In other words, my boys are pissed off and no one knows why, but I should continue to “keep things dry and avoid friction.”

“Oh–and–that’ll be a hundred-and-twenty-five dollars, Mr. Coker.”

Seriously, I don’t know any business other than the medical profession where people PAY to be told, “We don’t know what the answer is.”

Yesterday I blogged about being scared of everything, specifically trying new things like penning a travel-writing article or picking out pictures for a travel-writing article. My therapist says that owning your fears is a big part of healing, and I guess she’s right, since yesterday I was all a-twitter about picking out pictures, but this afternoon after having owned my shit last night, I got the entire job done with little to no anxiety. That’s me smirking about my accomplishment in the photo above. The Peabody Duck, which I got during my travel-writing trip to Memphis, is actually a disguised USB drive with press photos on it. (The Peabody is a famous hotel with trained mallard ducks that march down a red carpet and into a fountain in the lobby every day.)

How cool is that?

I’ve spent the rest of the day running errands, teaching dance, and reading a new book about stand-up comedy by Stephen Rosenfield. It’s genius, and my inner student loves the fact that stand-up, just like dance, has its history and pioneers, as well as its tried-and-true rules that are meant to be followed as well as broken. Really, I’m riveted, and I’d probably be done with the book by now except I keep going to YouTube to watch the comedians the book mentions. Of course, this isn’t a terrible way to spend an evening–laughing. Plus, as the book points out, comedy takes life’s tragedies and makes them bearable. When we can laugh at our burdens, they automatically become lighter.

Here’s something. For years, maybe even decades, one of my biggest gripes about my lovely father is that he’s an interrupter. Specifically, he’s a me-interrupter. At least that’s what gets on my nerves. This usually happens when I’m in the middle of a story, often in response to his asking, “What did you do today, son, oh fruit of my loins?” Like, let’s say I’m going on about being in the dermatologist’s office and how the dermatologist is telling me, “You don’t want to use steroid cream and anti-fungal powder at the same time because that would be like mixing milk and flour together and getting frosting.” But before I can even get to the part about the dermatologist saying, “And you wouldn’t want GENITAL FROSTING,” Dad’s interrupts me and starts talking about a cake with chocolate frosting he ate at the senior citizen’s center last Friday. Like, licking his lips and everything. “It was WONDERFUL.”

Historically, this type of behavior has really pissed me off because (as my father’s child), being interrupted makes me feel minimized and unimportant, as if what I have to say doesn’t matter. I’ve said this to Dad before, and he says that’s not the case. “If I don’t say what I’m thinking right away, I’ll forget it,” he says. And whereas I don’t completely buy this excuse (or buy it at all), I have come to accept it. At the very least, since interrupting is my dad’s habit with–well–most people, I’ve come to not take it so personally.

[At this point I’d like to apologize if I’ve ever interrupted you, dear reader, and say that I really have been working on fixing the problem for a while now.]

Okay. All that being said, this morning I’m sitting at the breakfast table, still in a daze from the anti-histamines I took last night, chewing away on grilled chicken and scrambled eggs. And BAM–out of freakin’ nowhere!–Dad starts apologizing for “all those years” he interrupted me. Oh my God, y’all, I almost choked on my cheddar cheese. Suspicious, I said, “Where is this coming from?” Dad said, “Well, your aunt interrupts me on the phone sometimes when I’m in the middle of a sentence, and IT DRIVES ME CRAZY.”

I put down my fork and leaned back in my chair. “Payback is a real bitch.”

Sometimes you have to give up wanting something before you can actually have it.

Twelve hours later, I’m still in shock. All these years of asking Dad to change and getting nothing, and now this, unsolicited. Not that I expect Dad’s habits to turn around overnight, but–as they say–the first step is admitting you have a problem (not someone else admitting you have a problem). But truly, I’m in awe at the way life works. Wayne Dyer tells a story about a cat that chases its tail. Of course, he never catches it. Then one day he decides to give up trying and go about his life. Later the cat comments, “You know, it’s funny. Now my tail follows me everywhere I go.” To me this means that sometimes you have to stop trying so damn hard. To me it means that whether it’s an apology or the answer to a healthcare problem, maybe you have to give up wanting something before you can actually have it. (Ain’t that a bitch?) So this is my new mantra–Stop chasing your own tail, Marcus. Now as for chasing someone else’s tail, well, that’s another matter.

That was a sex joke, Mom.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A friend’s laughter takes us backward and carries us forward simultaneously.

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