Life’s Labyrinth (Blog #448)

Today was the summer solstice, the “longest” day of the year. (I had to take a nap to get through it.) For the next sixth months, the amount of sunlight we have will gradually decrease each day. Yes, dear reader, the long, slow march to winter has begun. I’m not excited about this. (I hate winter.) Historically, today is a day of celebration (the sun is high in the sky!), but it feels like a death to me. There’s only one longest day a year, and now it’s over–dead–just like spring is dead, just like increasingly longer days are dead.

I really liked these things.

I saw my therapist this morning, and we talked about relationships (friends, students, lovers). This was in the context of my tendency to people please, my desire to follow-up with everyone in my life to make sure they are “okay” or not mad at me. My therapist’s advice–don’t chase anyone. It’s desperate, needy, and stems from a “lack” mentality. Abundance, she says, is where it’s at. (Step right up and get you some!) My personal jury is still out on this one, but I’m considering it.

It SOUNDS like a good idea.

After therapy, I went to the park to read and watch hot guys jog around without their shirts on. Last year I started a book on mythology by PL Travers (the woman who penned Mary Poppins) and recently picked it back up. The book, called What the Bee Knows, is a collection of essays that Travers wrote for a magazine, so they are sort of all over the place topically. But an image that stuck with me from today’s reading was that of a labyrinth, this maze-like path that loops back on itself. Travers says life is like this, moving around in circles. We think we’re lost, that we’re going backwards, but that’s just The Way.

Going backwards. That’s how I feel a lot. I’m living with my parents. I don’t have “a real job.” I’m almost forty. Shouldn’t I be passed all this by now? Passed–my past? Even in therapy there are times I think, Are we STILL talking about my desire to please people?

Yes, yes we are.

You can’t get lost.

Back home this evening, I rested before teaching a dance lesson. For dinner my dad made chicken nuggets, then I went for a walk to make myself feel better about the fact that I ate so many of them. For a while I did my usual route, up down one block, then the next. Finally I stopped at a labyrinth at a nearby church and walked the path. I guess it was on my mind from the book this afternoon, but I like to do this sometimes, start on the outside of the circle, wind my way around and around until I hit the center. This is how a labyrinth is different from a maze. A maze has multiple entries and exits, or at least several possible ways to get where you’re going. Plus, there are wrong turns and dead ends. But labyrinths aren’t like that–they have one entry, the same exit. You can wind around getting to the middle (that’s the point) but you can’t get lost.

This is what I love about a labyrinth–there’s only one way. Perhaps this is why so many people use them as a meditative device. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm as you walk around in circles. Early on in the labyrinth you’re within steps of reaching the center–your goal–but then you’re taken away from it. Within minutes, you’re far away from it. All the looping back is frustrating and seems inefficient. But then you realize that looping back is, essentially, a way to time travel–to clean up your past–to pick up anything you dropped along The Way. So eventually you learn to trust the path you’re on.

This is something I’m working on, letting go of how I thought I’d “get there” and accepting each step along my particular journey. Every day it’s something new, something old. Oh, this again. Haven’t we been here before? I mourn the death of longer days, the changing of The Seasons, but this too is part of life’s labyrinth. Here, there’s one way in, one way out. Everything moves in circles. Everything loops back and repeats itself. You and the stars are no different–each on your own heavenly path. So one day you move a little closer to The Center, the next a little further away. No matter. The Center awaits. There are no wrong turns.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Being scared isn’t always an invitation to run away. More often than not, it’s an invitation to grow a pair and run toward.

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Hooray, We’re Here! (Blog #110)

Bonnie and I spent all damn day shopping. Well, okay, I slept until noon, AND THEN we spent all damn day shopping. FINE. We also stopped for tacos, and–out of the clear blue sky–two Old Fashioneds poured themselves down my throat while I just sat there and let it happen. I mean, you have to pick your battles. ANYWAY, except for all of that–we spent all damn day shopping.

It was exhausting.

We bought a welcome mat at Target that we thought would be perfect for Annie’s Pilates studio. We didn’t tell Annie, so don’t go blogging about it or anything. Anyway, it’s super cute and–well–welcoming. Not only is it in the color family of the studio (teal, turquoise, blue, cyan), but it also says, “hooray you’re here!” Hooray, you’re here! What a perfect message–here could mean here at the studio–here in Austin–here on the planet. I just love it. I’m seriously considering buying one for my house–except I don’t have a house. Of course if I did, I’d probably have to put a note on the door that said, “Welcome mat does not apply to 1) government officials, 2) anyone trying to convert me to a religion or sell me a vacuum cleaner, or 3) little children hocking raffle tickets, buckets of popcorn, or overpriced candy bars.”

In those cases, Hooray, you’re leaving!

Here’s a picture of me and a pillow from Target that says, “Every day is an adventure.” I tried to look as unexcited as possible because I like ironic humor. Well, shit. The grammar nerd in me is not happy, since I just noticed that whoever made the pillow wrote “everyday,” instead of “every day.” One word instead of two. First the president and now this. Seriously, folks–we’re going downhill fast.

Here are the tacos we stopped for, at a place called FoxHole. Technically only I stopped for tacos because Bonnie stopped for pizza. But since I ate half of it, I guess I stopped for that too. Anyway, it was a delightful lunch, and the moral of the story is–shopping burns A LOT of calories.

After refueling, we went to Z Gallerie (and a hundred and three other places) in search of the perfect curtains–which are apparently harder to find than the Holy Grail. (Later we did end up with something that MAY work but has to be ordered.) Anyway, we certainly had fun trying. Check out this cool plate Bonnie found. The text on the plate is probably a more accurate description of what transpired at lunch than the one I just offered. It says, “Butt weight…there’s more.”

It’s funny because it’s true. Don’t you hate that?

Before the shopping ended, while we were at a cool store called Arhaus (is a very, very, very fine house), I got stung by a bee. You read that right–a honey bee stung me. There I was, minding my own business, doing my small part to rid the world of ugly window treatments, and one of God’s little creatures planted his stinger right in the middle of my throat. Ouch! I was at the top of an escalator when it happened, felt a little prick on my neck (there’s a dirty joke there somewhere), and ended up brushing a freaking bee off my skin. Well, I immediately stepped on it. (Sorry, not sorry, fella. You fucked with the wrong guy.) And don’t even think about judging me for killing that son of a bee. (See what I did there?) He started it. Plus, apparently honey bees die when they sting someone anyway.

Here’s a picture of the stinger that little jerk left in my throat. Bonnie pulled it out. Yeah, Bonnie!

Oh, and don’t worry. I’M OKAY. My throat didn’t swell up, and I didn’t stop breathing (except to drink a beer later). I’ve had more of a reaction from a mosquito bite. Go figure.

Tonight I went to a swing dance at The Fed, The Texas Federation of Women’s Clubs. The Fed is housed in a gorgeous–gorgeous–historic building with a beautiful–beautiful–ballroom. Tonight was my first time there. Anyway, I ran into my friends Matt and Laura, who were two of the first people to start teaching Lindy Hop in Austin. I told them I wanted to move to town, and Laura said, “Come on! This city will love you.” Matt added, “Most of us artists have day jobs, but those are easy enough to find.”

It was the perfect thing. Most the time when I travel to dances, people are “nice.” But only now and then do I get a warm welcome like the one I got from Matt and Laura, one that ends with the exchanging of phone numbers and an “I hope to see you later.” Honestly, it felt like–Hooray, you’re here!

Later Laura introduced me to some friends, and when I mentioned I’d like to move to town, one of them said that jobs were hard to find. Like, Uh, good luck. And–internally–the weirdest thing happened. Normally I would have been immediately discouraged, started thinking about how difficult it would be when I finally get around to moving. But instead I thought, “That won’t be my experience. Jobs are easy to find.”

When the universe speaks–listen.

When I got back from the dance, I went for a long run, and I started thinking about how much my perspective has changed since starting this blog. Earlier today I told Bonnie that I thought all the lessons were actually learned over the last several years, but that I’ve only taken ownership of them in the last three months. Plus, I’m believing more than ever that I’m connected to something much bigger than myself. Lately I’ve been saying and writing the affirmation, “My dreams come from God, and God has the power to accomplish them.” My friend Suzanne says, “First you know something, and then you KNOW something.” That’s all I can tell you–now I KNOW it–when it’s time for me to move and when it’s time for me to get a job, I will.

There’s a quote by JD Salinger that comes from one of his short stories that says, “‘I was six when I saw that everything was God, and my hair stood up, and all,’ Teddy said. ‘It was on a Sunday, I remember. My sister was a tiny child then, and she was drinking her milk, and all of a sudden I saw that she was God and the milk was God. I mean, all she was doing was pouring God into God, if you know what I mean.'” What I love about this quote–God pouring God into God–is that it makes me feel better about those Old Fashioneds pouring themselves down my throat today. It was like–holy. It also reminds me to have faith. God can get God a job, if God thinks God needs one. As Caroline Myss says, “Life takes care of life.”

So get this shit.

When I got home from my run, there was a book sitting on my dresser called What the Bee Knows. I guess I took it out of my bag yesterday. And since–you know–I just got stung by a bee, I figured I ought to pick it up. (When the universe speaks–listen.) Well, the book was written by PL Travers and is a collection of essays about myth, symbol, and story-telling. So I flipped to the article with the same title as the book and found out that bees, in all time-periods and cultures, are a symbol for life–life as immortality, which could be seen as one thing changing into and out of many forms. God pouring God into God. Fascinating, right?

Butt weight–there’s more.

I suppose it’s ironic (funny) that in a number of languages the word for bee means “life” or “living,” especially when you consider how easily bees die when they either sting someone or get stepped on by a pissed-off curtain shopper. But just as Christ spent three days in the grave, bees spend the winter (three months) in their hives, only to reappear in the spring (raised to walk–er–fly–in newness of life). So today I’m reminded–by a bee sting of all friggin’ things–that although parts of our lives pass away just as insects and even people do, new parts of our lives continually spring forth. Life itself marches forward, every day is an adventure, and one part of God is always saying to another, “Hooray, we’re here!”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Getting comfortable in your own skin takes time.

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two books and a ball cap (blog #19)

I’ve spent the last three hours working on a blog post that I finally admitted wasn’t working. So I told myself that I did the best I could, told the blog post, “It’s not you, it’s me,” and I started over. I mean, it’s only 4 AM, my brain stopped working two hours ago, and I don’t know what I’m going to do now. So what could go wrong?

The blog post I originally sat down to write was about The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book by Mark Haddon that I read several months ago and fell in love with, but also a Tony-award-winning Broadway play that I saw in Fayetteville at the Walton Arts Center tonight with my friend Marla. And although I’m absolutely riveted both by the book and the play, and although I cried a lot tonight (which is good because I almost never cry, even when I want to or when it would be really handy), that’s not what I want to talk about. Or to be more accurate, that’s not what wants me to talk about it.

So this is me giving into my muse, who apparently wants to discuss two books and a ball cap. (I can’t believe I just said that, but here we go.)

Last week I found an old gift card for Barnes and Noble. I can’t tell you how long I’ve had it, but long enough to not remember. It had $11.89 on it. So although I’m really not buying a lot of books these days, I decided to use it and get two books that I’ve wanted for a while now, books I haven’t been able to find at a library. Well, the books came today, and it felt like Christmas morning or that scene in Bedknobs and Broomsticks when Angela Lansbury’s witch’s broom finally arrives. I mean, I love books, but this moment at the community mailbox this afternoon was something else.

I’m sure someone’s going to ask, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you. The first book is by Gabor Mate, and it’s called In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. It’s about addictions. The second book is by P.L. Travers (the author of Mary Poppins), and it’s called What the Bee Knows. It’s about myth, symbolism, and storytelling. I really get excited about all this stuff.

But despite my interest in the book topics, I don’t think that’s what caused my excitement. I mean, even now, I’m looking at the two books on top of the television across the room, and I think they look so stately and lovely, which doesn’t make sense because they’re paperbacks. But I’m wondering in the best way if I’m going to be able to find room on my one bookshelf for them, since it feels like trying to find two good seats for two special guests you didn’t know were coming. (I have the sense that we’re going to be friends, that I’ll somehow be different after I get to know them.)

Tonight, after the show was over, I made a second stop by the merchandise table. I’d already been by at intermission to get a magnet, which is my standard and almost-always-only purchase. But the show was so stunning, and I was so emotional, and I’d also been drinking red wine from an adult sippy cup. So I ended up buying a ball cap. The cap is all black, and it has the outline of a dead dog on the front, and the name of the book/play on the back. (The story’s about a fifteen-year-old autistic boy named Christopher who finds a dead dog in his neighborhood and sets about to find out who killed it.)

Anyway, here’s the weird part—I’m so excited about this ball cap that I’m practically doing backflips at almost five in the morning. Two books and a ball cap, and I feel like a virgin on prom night. And I thought I needed a job or a husband to be happy.

And whereas I’m sure the book and the beautiful story and the play all have something to do with my excitement about the ball cap, here’s what I think has actually happened. As I may have mentioned before, several months ago, I threw away, gave away, or sold most everything I owned. This included getting rid of hundreds of books that I’d paid for and collected for close to twenty years. And it also included most of my clothes. I mean, when I got dressed for the show tonight, my choice was between three t-shirts.

And whereas I don’t regret getting rid of anything, and there are a lot of benefits living simply, there are times when it feels like something is missing, or would at least be nice to have. (Like, tonight, I could have used a belt.) Well, one of those things that I’ve thought would be nice to have is a ball cap, since I didn’t keep any of my old ones because they were so worn out. Well, you can get a ball cap anywhere, but I’m fussy, remember, so not just any old ball cap would do.

All that to say that I’m finding that owning fewer things has not only made me infinitely more appreciative of the things I do have, but it has also made me infinitely more excited about even the most ordinary of purchases—two books and a ball cap. And it seems there’s a lot of satisfaction in something you’ve been thinking about buying for a long time (those two books) or wanting for a while (that ball cap), and finally getting it. Like, they’re small things, but I’m so happy with them, I can honestly say I’m glad they didn’t show up sooner. Still, now that they’re here, I wonder where we’ll be going together, what dreams we’ll be more-patiently waiting for.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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