Reality Isn’t Complicated (Blog #843)

For the last week or more I’ve been go, go, going. Granted, you wouldn’t have known it had you been watching. What I mean is that I’ve been filling my days up with reading, turning one page after another. And whereas this may sound like a leisurely activity, it’s not for me. Because more than simply reading, I’ve been studying, learning, trying to cram as much knowledge into my brain as I can. And whereas I love all of this, it’s still work. Plus, the pressure I put on myself to do more, learn more is exhausting. Tonight I signed up for a free video streaming service (Kanopy) through my library and flagged 7 documentary series (each with about 24 episodes) that I’d like to, think I should, watch. But ugh. Who has time for all this information?

Seriously, it’s overwhelming.

In order to deal with this overwhelm, I did something today I rarely do–I spent the entire day with friends. First, my friends Aaron and Kate and their son and I went to lunch, then we came to where I’m house sitting so we could swim. Then our friends Justin and Ashley joined us. Then Aaron and Kate and their son left, and Justin and Ashley and I went to dinner. Anyway, it was the perfect thing. Being with friends. Soaking up some sun. Not being so damn serious for a change.

Balance.

At one point today I was playing with Aaron and Kate’s son in the pool, and–just like that–he slipped off his floaty and went under water. Sometimes life happens so fast. Well, just as quickly, I snatched him up with both hands. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Water was dripping off his face, but you could have heard a pin drop. Just for an instant. And then the response came–tears. Then coughing. Talk about overwhelming. For a while, Kate held him. Then Aaron held him. Then the two of them were back in the water, the boy laughing again, insisting on getting back on his floaty.

This evening I’ve thought a lot about this. Things happen in the blink of a an eye. In the last two years–just like that–I was rear-ended, I tore my ACL. Oddly enough these experiences weren’t scary. They just happened, and then they were over. Conversely, earlier this week I accidentally ran a red light and didn’t realize it until I was in the middle of the intersection. No one pulled out or even came close to hitting me–everyone just sat there–but my heart jumped up to my throat. My point is that so often it’s not the actual things that happen in our lives that scare us, but the things we imagine will happen, or imagine could have happened, that do. I can’t speak for my young friend, but I know that’s what scared me today about his going under water–after the fact I thought, That could have really been bad.

I say after the fact because in the moment, thankfully, I was present. One minute we were playing around, he was on the floaty, and the next minute he slipped under. I could see his body submerged in water, I knew he couldn’t swim, and I immediately reached for him. Byron Katie says that our bodies are full of wisdom. For example, you accidentally touch a hot stove, and your hand automatically moves away from the heat. You don’t have to think, The stove’s hot, I should move my hand. It just happens. That’s what snatching my young friend out of the water was like. Automatic. I didn’t have to think or worry about how to do it.

My point in all this is twofold. First, it’s that in the moment we’re always taken care of and we always know what to do. Granted, when I’m in the midst of worrying about my finances and not sure about what book to read next, it doesn’t always feel like this. But what’s the truth? I’m sitting in a chair and am reading the book I’m reading, so I do know what to do. The boy is under water, and he can’t swim–snatch him up. Reality isn’t complicated. Secondly, our fears are never about what’s happening right here, right now. Rather, they’re always about what could have happened, what might happen next. Byron Katie says, “If you want fear and terror on purpose, get a future.” That is, imagine what will occur even a millisecond from now. You can really scare yourself. But right here, right now? Things are always better than we think they are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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On Power and Empowerment (Blog #842)

Last night after blogging I stayed up late and watched The Adjustment Bureau staring Matt Damon. (What a handsome fella.) The movie is about a politician (played by Damon) who unwittingly stumbles upon a group of angels (The Adjustment Bureau) who work to keep humanity “on plan.” I love this stuff, the idea that there’s more going on “down here” than what we can see, that there’s a great drama unfolding of which we get to play a part. I was absolutely riveted and completely amused.

Until three in the morning, that is, when I walked into the bedroom where I’m house sitting and my friend’s dog was on MY side of the bed.

“Scooter, SCOOT over,” I said.

Scooter snored.

So guess who moved sides?

Today has been absolutely marvelous. This morning I read The Adjustment Team by Philip K. Dick, which is the short story The Adjustment Bureau was based on. And whereas there were similarities, there were a lot of differences. For one thing, the short story was, well, short–just seventeen pages. For another, it didn’t involve a politician. Still, I’m fascinated by the fact that a short written over fifty years ago was the inspiration for a modern-day blockbuster movie. This the power of creativity. This is the power of words.

This afternoon I continued to read. First I finished the book I started yesterday, The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. Then I read the (short) play, The Devil and Daniel Webster by Stephen Vincent Benet (because May said it was a modern retelling of Faust). Then I read King, Warrior, Magician, Lover by Robert Moore, about four of the main archetypes (or patterns for thinking, feeling, and behaving) present in men. As most teacher of archetypes do, Moore points out that every archetype has a shadow side. For example, one shadow aspect of The King is The Tyrant. One shadow aspect of The Warrior is The Coward.

Speaking of coward, I just had to stop blogging to let Scooter outside. Never mind the fact that he has a DOGGIE DOOR! He’s just too afraid (at night) to use it. I mean, What’s on the other side?

This evening I ran some errands–bought some new socks, went grocery shopping. Then I came back home (my home for now, that is) and exercised while I watched/listened to a couple episodes of Sacred Power with Caroline Myss. Boy, that lady doesn’t pull any punches. If you’d like a dose of honesty (and who wouldn’t, really?), check her out. One of the exercises she suggested tonight was to notice–just notice–how much time you spend every day thinking about what anyone else may think of you (for any reason). Said another way, notice how easily or often you’re humiliated or embarrassed. Because whether it’s fifteen minutes or two hours a day, that’s fifteen minutes or two hours in which you’re losing energy, in which you’re losing power, that you don’t have to.

Personally, I’m really challenged by this. I can’t tell you the number of times each day I’m distracted by what someone else might think of me. I’m like Scooter–worried. How many likes did my last post get? That photo really wasn’t my best. Does these things really matter? No. I don’t know a single person who would say they do. And yet we all act like they do. We spend so much time finding that perfect selfie angle. You know, the one that hides our fat.

More and more, I’m seeing this not only as wasted time, but also–in Caroline’s terms–wasted energy, wasted power. This isn’t just an intellectual concept. When I’m really concerned about things that aren’t my business, I can feel it in my body. I get agitated, restless, tired. Not too long ago I saw someone I’d really prefer to never see again ever, and it was like my entire spirit got up and walked out of the room. I felt like I was going to shit on myself. Thankfully, I didn’t. Instead, I did my best to pull myself together, to call my spirit back. Hey, get back here. No one else is going to scare us off. We’re a Warrior, not a Coward.

Courage.

Courage, that’s something Scooter doesn’t have much of. Just a moment ago I had to get back out of my comfortable recliner to open the door for him–again. He kept pawing at the DOGGIE DOOR but wouldn’t actually use the fucking thing. So for a moment I lost my cool and was like, What the hell, man? Is it really all that complicated?

And before you say anything in his defense, the answer is no, it’s not. I saw him use it this afternoon.

Clearly, I’m not over it. I’m working on it. Nonetheless, this is a small example of one of the many ways in which a person can lose energy or power. That is, before Scooter took my side of the bed and before he refused to use HIS DOOR, I was perfectly happy. Peaceful. But then when he, oh, simply acted like himself (his owner told me he was a real wuss), I got in a tither and lost my peace. In terms of power, I lost my CONTROL. This is really the issue when we worry about what other people think of us or–on a grander scale–when we hold grudges and resentments over things that happened two weeks or two decades ago. Rather than US controlling our internal atmosphere, we make the CHOICE to let someone or something else control it. Tying everything back to archetypes, this means we act from our shadow or disempowered self rather than from our empowered self.

Is it easy to develop and act from our empowered self? No. It’s the journey of a lifetime.

Is it worth any and all effort it takes to do so?

Absolutely.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All emotions are useful.

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On Anxiety, Myths, and Divine Timing (Blog #841)

It’s eleven at night, and I just turned on my “blogging music.” This morning started off slowly–I slept in, ate breakfast, then read over a hundred fifty pages in The Cry for Myth by Rollo May. It’s fabulous, about the idea that life is inherently anxiety-inducing and that myths help us not only make sense of our world, but also alleviate that anxiety. Too much anxiety in your life? You need a different myth, a different viewpoint, a different psychological construct from which to see things.

A different set of glasses.

Honestly, I could have spent the entire day reading. I can’t tell you what a sense of accomplishment and joy I get when I finish an entire book in one day. Alas, this was not to be. For weeks I’ve been telling myself that I’d put down my books and finally do a few things–respond to emails, go to the bank and the post office, shit like that. Well, I finally did these things this afternoon. And whereas I started to give myself a hard time for not doing them sooner, I didn’t because recently I’ve been thinking about divine timing.

I’ll explain.

Byron Katie says that when you argue with reality, you lose–but only one hundred percent of the time. This means that if you think you SHOULD be running errands (and you aren’t) or that you SHOULD HAVE run errands sooner than you did, you’re going to experience stress. Why? Just one simple reason–it’s not the truth. The truth is you’re not running errands, or that you didn’t run them sooner than you did. This is what I mean by divine timing. Things happen when they happen. We can SHOULD and SHOULD HAVE all day long, but that just produces anxiety. This is the myth of I’m not doing things right, the myth of I did something wrong, and the myth of I’m a bad person, I’m a worm.

Going back to divine timing, I can’t tell you the number of times things have shown up in my life at just the right moment. For example, not too long ago I got an unexpected check for nearly three hundred dollars in the mail, the result of one of those silly class-action lawsuit postcards that I fill out now and then (and usually result in a check for $2.87). Well, that three hundred bucks totally saved my ass. The same thing happened over Christmas this last year when I needed to pay some bills but couldn’t work because of my knee injury. Someone bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. Of course, this miraculous timing doesn’t just apply to money. My therapist showed up at just the right time. Books and information continue to show up at just the right time.

One of my points here is–How do you know? That is, how do you know you should have said something or done something sooner–or that you should even do it at all (if you haven’t already)? Having been on the receiving end of multiple (hundreds of) perfectly timed kindnesses, it’s not a stretch for me to think that I can play a part in the producing end of perfectly timed kindnesses in someone else’s life. What I mean is that I can beat myself up for not sending a letter in the mail sooner, but maybe the person getting that letter didn’t NEED it sooner. Maybe they needed it LATER. Likewise, I can (and do) beat myself up for not working more on writing my book(s), but again, perhaps it’s just not time. How will I know it’s time to write my book(s)?

I’ll have my butt in a chair and will be writing them.

It’s that simple.

Gosh, we like to complicate things. I like to complicate things. And not that I’m encouraging procrastination or not listening to your inner nudges to act, but I am suggesting that most of our self-flagellation is just that–self-punishment. As if we won’t get things done unless we constantly berate ourselves. I’m not doing things right. I did something wrong. I’m a bad person, I’m a worm. Please, we need a new myth–the myth of I’m doing things just fine, the myth of I did something right (a lot of things right), the myth of I’m a good person, not a worm.

Living by a new myth, of course, is more than simply changing your perspective or putting on a new pair of glasses. For a myth to really make a difference in your life, you have to internalize it and you have to let it change you. May says, “We seem to think that we can be reborn without ever dying.” This means that our old personality structure must be completely torn up (or torn down) in order for a new one to be planted, take root, and grow. This is why Noah was in the Ark, Jonah was in the whale, and Christ was in the grave. Chaos always precedes order, darkness always precedes light, and death always precedes new life–and change always takes time. For me, this is where the myths are most helpful. Knowing that “destruction comes before creation,” rather than be filled with anxiety whenever my life is falling apart, I can be filled with hope. I think, It’s just a matter of time before things start coming together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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Our Burdens Fall Away (Blog #840)

It’s ten-thirty at night, and I’m plum tuckered out. Last night I stayed up reading a theory about the mathematics of creation and got so excited thinking about it that it was three in the morning before I finally wound down. (I’m a nerd, I know. But an even bigger nerd had to write the theory, so there’s that.) Then this morning I got up early to help a friend move. But then the stars didn’t align, and they postposed. Well hell, I was already awake, so I made breakfast and did more reading. Then I exercised and read some more. Seriously, y’all, have you tried reading?

It’s great.

What really made me tired, however, was not turning pages. True, I’m a delicate flower, but not THAT delicate. No, what wore me out was mowing. Recently I picked up a couple lawn care gigs and did them both this afternoon. Mowed and weedeated. Maybe this was a mistake, tackling both jobs in one (very hot) day. My lower back sure seemed to think so. Oh well, it’s over now, and I have the entire weekend to recover. This was my logic in working so hard today, that I’d have more time later to relax.

And by relax I mean read.

Recently I finished a book called Rules for the Dance by Mary Oliver, about how to read and write poetry. It’s stunning. For anyone who loves words, whether you’re into poetry or not, I recommend it. Anyway, one of the notes I took from the book was about ballads, which are a particular type of poem and–often–set to music. Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers, for instance. Anyway, if in a ballad there’s a line that repeats itself at the end of every stanza, that’s called a refrain. The line “I can’t help falling in love with you” in Elvis Presley’s song Can’t Help Falling in Love is a good example.

Okay, heres’ the part that interests me–the refrain is sometimes referred to as the burden.

I’ll explain.

Recently I had someone say something that was intended as a joke but hit a nerve with me. A small nerve, mind you, but a nerve nonetheless. And whereas I had a chance to say something about it, I decided to let it go. My therapist says, “You can’t confront all day every day–well, you could because people are full of bad behavior, but that would be exhausting.” My point is that having decided to not say anything about the matter, I was left with it in my head. So for the better part of a day I mentally replayed (repeated) the situation, imagining different outcomes.

I’ve done this so many times with so many different things it’s not even funny. Talk about wearing yourself out. Byron Katie says , “Who is more hurtful: the person who wronged you once or you for reliving it over and over in your head?” I hate this, but whenever I ask myself this question, I always have to answer–I am more hurtful. This is what I mean by the refrain being a burden. People say rude things. They cut us off in traffic. Even worse. In an instant, it’s done with. And yet we rewind and repeat the very worst in our lives. In so doing, we refuse to let the moment pass. Instead, we hold on–we hold grudges.

We punish ourselves.

Eckhart Tolle has a book called The Power of Now, which–if I recall correctly–is largely about the healing power of the present moment. For example, right now it’s quiet. There’s just a faint hum of a florescent light and the clack of my keyboard. I’m tired and my body hurts somewhat, but all the grass and dirt from this afternoon have since been washed away, and even the blisters on my hands have begun to repair themselves. And whereas I could sit here and imagine all sorts of both mildly irritating and actually horrific things that have happened in my past, the fact is that they now only exist in my memory. This is what’s beautiful about this present moment. Every horrific thing is over. Right here, right now, if we don’t repeat them, our burdens fall away. Right here, right now, we begin to heal. Right here, right now, there is grace for us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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On Following Your Bliss (Blog #839)

Yesterday I spoke about the feeling of delight, and today has been delightful. Not that it’s been ALL that different from most of my days on the outside, but there’s been a certain quality about it that’s made it different on the inside.

I’ll do my best to explain.

This morning I made breakfast and got around slowly. Then a couple hours later I made a snack and took it outside to eat. Then because the sun felt so nice, I lay outside and read a book. And whereas I think I overdid it (my stomach is currently medium rare), it felt fabulous. Then a friend of mine asked me to help her install an air conditioning window unit, so I did that. I love a good project. Plus, another friend was there to help, and since they’d installed several window units before, I ended up learning something. I love learning.

Lately my therapist and I have been talking a lot about money. I’ve said before that I have a lot of gross feelings about money, largely due to the fact that I had to be responsible for my family’s finances as a teenager. And although it’s taken me, oh, twenty years to identify how I felt about that, I can now say that it was extremely overwhelming. Anyway, I’ve made a lot of progress in this area. There are several areas in my life that I’m super neutral about. For example, my romantic life. I think, Whatever happens, happens. I don’t have time for bullshit. Well, my therapist says I can take this same attitude–laid back–and apply it to money. “Something ALWAYS comes along for you,” she says. “Chill out.”

Well, damn if she hasn’t been right (again). First there was that air conditioner work today, then I picked up a yard-mowing gig this evening. And not that I’m sitting pretty or anything, but everything helps. Plus, I’ve told the universe that I really am willing to work doing almost anything so long as it affords me the time to continue to do what I love–read and write. Apparently it’s listening. Things keep showing up–house sitting gigs, odd jobs, dance lessons–and I haven’t even advertised. Other than talking about my life and random jobs here on the blog, I haven’t tried to drum up business even once.

I keep going back to Joseph Campbell’s quote (that I’ve mentioned several times here before)–“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” This means that as we listen to our heart, we’re helped by “unseen hands.” (If you’re not listening to your heart, I don’t know what to tell you.) When we’ve talked about what writing project I want to tackle next, my therapist says, “Follow the energy–do the thing that excites you the most.”

I started to say, “Listen to you heart and do The Hard Work” because listening to your heart, as lovely as it sounds, is tough stuff. That is, rarely is anyone else going to encourage you to do what YOU want to do, since everyone else wants you to do what THEY want you to do. Think about it. It’s human nature. A while back I did some work, and my gut told me it was worth a certain price. Well, the client initially offered slightly less. What the big deal? you might say. But I knew that I’d feel like I’d compromised myself if I didn’t at least ask. So I did, and they said yes. This is a small example, but my point is that following your inner guidance isn’t just about becoming a writer, or whatever it is you want to do professionally. If you’re going to listen to your truth, you’ve got to listen to it across the board.

In all situations.

Not to beat a dead horse, but I can’t count the number of times in the last several years when following my bliss has looked like putting a friendship on hiatus, saying no to bad behavior from lovers or potential lovers, and even confronting my loved ones. Again, the idea here is that if you want the universe to start opening doors for you, you have to be willing to do your part, which may include shutting a few windows. At the very least, you have to be willing to walk a different path, and that means being able to say no when necessary. It means being willing to go against the grain and withstand criticism. I can’t tell you the number of times people have told me, “You should go to college. You’re gonna have to get a real job one day.”

“Fuck that shit,” my therapist say. “That’s their problem.”

Not that I’m advocating dumb or negligent behavior. Only you get to decide what’s best for you, and I can only speak to my specific life. All I know is that since I was in high school, it’s never felt deep-down right to “just get a degree” or be like everybody else. Rather, since then I’ve had a deep-down dream to be a writer and do things associated with writing. Some people may say this is a pie-in-the-sky idea, and I get it. It’s hard to make it as a writer. But more and more I KNOW. This is what I came here to do. If I have to do random odd jobs until it “happens,” so be it.

I’m willing to pay the price.

What’s more, I know that my day-to-day happiness doesn’t depend on what’s happening out there.

It depends on what’s happening in here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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Snap! The Job’s a Game (Blog #838)

This morning I watched a (ten minute) video by intuitive Robert Ohotto in which he suggested something he calls the I Don’t Give a Shit (IDGAS) Detox. The basic concept is that for a week or two you stop giving a shit about whatever it is you give a shit about. If you want to take it a step further, you write down your reactions to not giving a shit. Like, That felt nice to not give a shit about what other people think about my hair, or Maybe I should have given a shit about that noise my car was making–because now it’s broken down on the side of the road. As I understand it, the IDGAS Detox is designed to alert you to how you spend your mental and emotional energy.

Which, incidentally, you only have so much of.

I’ve thought about this a lot today, about not giving a shit. And whereas I’ll spare you all the specific incidents to which I’ve applied the wisdom of IDGAS–or, truth be told, IDGAF–I will include a short list of things I think we could all care less about. Here we go–what’s happening on Facebook, what anyone else is doing (period), whether or not someone else calls or texts you back, what other people think about anything about you, how you compare to others, and (take this one however you like) whether or not you can still get into the same pants you could in high school.

That’s a sex joke, Mom.

As I’ve thought about these things today I’ve realized I spend a lot of time worrying or being concerned about things that really don’t matter. And not that any of this is unusual or directly harmful, but it does affect exactly how much joy I experience from moment to moment, and all that adds up. Robert suggests the IDGAS Detox if you’re feeling exhausted, and I think that’s his point. If you’re getting enough sleep every night and still find yourself tired, it may be because you’re wearing yourself out with all your mental gymnastics. The ones that sound like, Everyone else has it better than I do. They’re so much richer, smarter, and more talented than I am. Or vice versa.

Give it a rest, Nancy.

Give it an IDGAS rest.

This afternoon I saw a chiropractor, a friend of mine, who uses a lot of unconventional (weird) techniques. I’m all about this sort of thing, the mind-body connection. Hell, I’m all about whatever works. My neck and shoulder have been bothering me for over six months now, so at this point I’ll try anything. Well, get this shit. When I walked in the majority of my back was, in his terms, “locked up.” In my terms, it was tense and inflexible. Thirty minutes later, it was much, much better. It was like something had let go. The best part? My friend didn’t have to crack or twist anything or do anything dramatic. Rather–and this is the weird part–he communicated with my unconscious (through muscle testing) to find out WHY my body was so uptight.

Like, “What’s your deal, Lucille?”

One of the tenants of this approach is that for each physical problem, there will be a mental/emotional component. In other words, in most cases, our bodily aches and pains don’t come out of nowhere. And whereas for me it’s tempting to think my neck and shoulder pain have to do strictly with my car accident two years ago and the fact that I’ve been doing a lot of manual labor lately, that’s a bit like thinking an appleseed can flourish into a full-grown apple tree by simply sitting on your coffee table. Of course it can’t. It needs dirt, water, and sunshine. What I’m saying is that for a physical problem to manifest (turn from a seed to a tree) in your body, it needs a particular environment in which to do so. Simply put, your thoughts and emotions are a huge part of that environment.

The good news about this: if you change the environment, you change what’s able to grow there.

According to my friend (and my unconscious), the emotion that’s related to my neck and shoulder pain is jealousy. “It’s probably not a romantic jealousy,” my friend said. Now, maybe this sounds like a bunch of crap. If so, that’s okay. I’ve thought so in similar situations in the past. But today I couldn’t truthfully say, “WHO ME? Jealous?” So instead I said, “I know exactly what kind of jealousy it is–it’s professional. It’s the thought that other people are succeeding at what they want to do and I’m not.”

“So it’s not really about all that manual labor,” my friend said.

“Well, that plays in because I don’t deep-down want to be doing all that manual labor,” I said. “I want to make the money, but I’d rather make it doing something I love.”

This wanting/not wanting, of course, is a recipe for tension both internally and externally.

With my friend’s approach, for each negative emotion that comes up, there’s also a positive one to balance it out or help remedy the situation. In my case, that emotion was delight. As an exercise, you could think jealous thoughts for a minute and see how that feels, then think thoughts of delight and see how that feels. For me, delight feels one hundred times better. When I think of things that delight me, I feel less constriction and more expansion. Freer. This is what I’ve been trying to do since this afternoon. Outwardly the rest of my day was typical–I read a book, mowed my parents’ lawn, took a shower, and began writing. But rather than adopting an attitude of pressure or obligation, I adopted one of fun and enjoyment. One of delight.

As Mary Poppins says, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and–snap!–the job’s a game.”

Getting back to the IDGAS Detox, I think it’s an excellent tool to use for transforming a negative emotion into a positive one. For example, whenever I’ve been tempted this afternoon and evening to be jealous of another person’s body, work, or body of work, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit what anyone else is doing. Likewise, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit if I read as much today as I did yesterday. I don’t give a shit if I mow the lawn perfectly. Consequently, I’ve experienced more joy. (There, that wasn’t so hard.) At the same time–and this is the real gem–I’ve freed up a good bit of mental/emotional energy that, rather than using on things I don’t like, I can now use on things I do. Because I DO give a shit about writing, I DO give a shit about dancing, and I DO give a shit about reaching my highest potential, and these things require A LOT of energy.

My final thought about all this is that when pirate ships are caught in a storm and are “going down,” the crew throws everything overboard that isn’t absolutely necessary–cargo, supplies, anyone who’s not pulling their weight. (Sorry, Petey.) Free of the extra baggage, the ship can now stay afloat. After the storm passes, it can even sail quicker than it did before. This is what discarding negative thoughts and emotions can do for you. This is what discarding negative relationships–with friends, technology, and even your own body–can do for you. It can lighten you up. It can get you to where you’re going faster.

It can turn a job into a game.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are all connected in a great mystery and made of the same strong stuff.

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I Meant to Do That! (Blog #837)

Photo by Virgilia Dale. Thanks, V!

This morning I saw my therapist and read her yesterday’s blog, about childhood memories. I don’t do this very often, maybe once every couple months, if I’d like her opinion on something or it seems relevant. For example, on our last therapy-iversary, I read her my post about why me and my therapist are successful. It was my way of saying, “Thank you.” (I also brought cookies.) Anyway, I read last night’s blog because, as I told her, “I cried when I wrote it and am hoping I can cry again.”

“Go for it,” she said. “Get the poison out of your water.”

Then she added, “I like how you’ve been crying more lately.”

Well, sure enough, it worked. I cried more when I read the post to her than when I wrote the damn thing. I guess there’s something about my therapist’s presence. It’s like I know I can say anything, be completely me in the moment, and that’s going to be okay. Never once in five years have I felt judged. Not that I’ve always been agreed with–far from it–but I’ve never felt judged. Instead, no matter if I’ve been angry, sad, depressed, irate, confused, lethargic, disappointed, hurt, or horny–I’ve felt totally accepted. And I guess that’s been one of the big gifts this blog has given me too–acceptance.

Self-acceptance.

I imagine this is why certain posts make me cry. Like last night’s, they’re usually the ones that have something to do with my childhood. The way I see it, I probably needed to cry (and yell and scream) back then but just didn’t know how. Consequently, it’s like some part of me got asked to sit down and shut up indefinitely. But here’s the thing about writing if you do it correctly–you bring your whole self to it. This means that when you’re being creative all the parts of yourself that have previously been silenced can potentially speak up. They may cry and they may to tell people to fuck off. If you’re smart, you’ll listen. This is what self-acceptance is–not letting every part of you run the show, but letting every part of you be heard.

The above picture of me at a lemonade stand showed up in my Facebook memories today. For a while my dance studio was in the same building as a photographer, and the lemonade stand was one of her props. Anyway, this picture always makes me think of that overused saying–when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Along these lines, there’s this quote from Joseph Campbell–“To transform you hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act. Joyfully participate in the sorrows of the world and everything changes.” To me this means not so much that you make the best of a bad situation, but that on some level you actually choose the bad situation.

I’ll explain.

There’s an idea in the self-help world that you’re happy not when you have what you want, but rather when you want what you have. Think about it. We usually associate wanting with things we don’t have, but if you were to–in this moment–look at everything in your life and say, “I want this,” you’d immediately experience a sense of contentment. For me this would look like saying, “I want to weigh 190 (ish) pounds. I want to be single. I want to be living at home with my parents and experiencing a headache.”

Good news! I am.

Applied to one’s past, all of this means that rather than labeling your difficult circumstances as bullshit or something that never should have happened, you look at them and say, “That was exactly what I needed.” This is what Campbell means when he says, “Turn your fall into a voluntary act.” Children do this all the time. They trip on their shoelaces, hit the concrete, and scab their knees then immediately look at their friends and say, “I MEANT to do that!” In keeping with my previous discussion about last night’s blog about childhood memories and specifically the fact that my family’s home burned down when I was four, this means that yes, I cry or scream about it when I need to, but I refuse to let myself be bitter about the situation. Instead I think, That helped make me who I am today. And I like who I am today.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can rewrite our stories if we want to.

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Now Green Grass Grows (Blog #836)

I’ve spent today reading three different books online–The Kingdom Within: The Inner Meaning of Jesus’ Sayings by John A. Sanford, Cathedral by David Macauley (about gothic architecture), and What Your Childhood Memories Say about You by Dr. Kevin Leman. And whereas I love reading and learning, after several hours of this my eyeballs felt like they were going to fall out of my head and roll around on the floor, so I shut my laptop and went for a walk.

While strolling, I thought about the book I’d just been reading, about childhood memories. The author of the book contends that we form how we see ourselves and the world around us basically by the age of eight and that our early memories can clue us in to not only who we are and what we believe, but also why. Anyway, I started scanning my memory banks and came up with several instances when I felt excited about learning or figuring things out, as well as several instances when I felt afraid or embarrassed. This is important, the book says–if it’s really a formative memory, there will be an emotion attached to it.

Because I’m currently tired and would like to keep this short, I don’t intend to go into my specific memories. Plus, I’ve already discussed a number of “the biggies” here before. What I will say, however, is that although I haven’t finished reading the book, I already agree with its premise. Those emotions I just mentioned–excitement (about learning or figuring things out), fear, and embarrassment–continue to motivate nearly everything I do.

Here’s one way to think about all this. While walking tonight in downtown Van Buren, I stopped by what’s left of what used to be my family’s home, which burned down when I was four. The building itself has since been cleared, and there’s a park. Still, one brick wall remains, and even after thirty-five years, you can still see black smudges all along it. What I mean is that simply because something happened forever ago (when you were a child) doesn’t mean it can’t leave a long-lasting and permanent impression.

For me, the impression that the fire left was Something bad is going to happen. It really was a horrific night. Although my family was spared, nine people died in that fire, along with many of my stuffed animals. The next thing I knew, I was sleeping at a friend’s house, being given someone else’s toys to play with. Another emotion that comes up in a lot of my early memories is confusion, and perhaps the fire is where that feeling started. How confusing for a four-year-old to one day be living in a newly built three-story home and the next day be living on his friend’s pullout couch.

Because our home that burned really was lovely and then it was all gone, I think another impression the fire left was Good things get taken away. This is a belief that’s been reinforced for me a number of times–when Dad went to prison, when our new cars got repossessed. When all that happened, in my teens, both me and my family started getting more hand-me-downs. When I graduated high school, a family I deeply love gave me a car. And whereas it did the job and it was mine(!) for a few years, it was in rough shape. So, without meaning to, I guess I developed a spinoff belief of Good things get taken away–that I’m only worth second-rate things. Used things. Things nobody else would want.

This isn’t easy to talk about it. I don’t like the fact that something, a number somethings, that happened so long ago continue to influence my attitudes and behaviors even today. And yet they do. They continue to have sway over my platonic and romantic relationships (like, I don’t deserve the best), my relationship with money, how I think about healing, and even how I go for a walk. Because when you believe Something bad is going to happen, it’s difficult to ever relax. When you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, it’s hard to let your guard down.

The good news is that all of this is getting better. All of this is better than it used to be. For me, a lot of healing has come through writing and this blog, through simply stating the facts–I was scared when I saw the smoke that night, I was embarrassed my Dad went to prison, and I was embarrassed I couldn’t afford my own car. As I understand it, something magical happens when you can, with compassion, be a witness to your own life. Also, for me it’s been important to really grasp how much my difficult childhood experiences laid the groundwork for my personality, a personalty that although it experiences a great deal of fear and embarrassment, also experiences a great deal of inner fortitude and determination to overcome. I wouldn’t trade these positive qualities for the world. This is how life works. Whenever it takes something away from you, it gives you the opportunity to cultivate something better in return.

At the spot where our house once burned down, just next to that smoke-stained wall, now green grass grows.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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On Endurance (Blog #835)

It’s Saturday, and this morning, again, I woke up with sinus junk. This has been going on for two weeks now. Color me not amused. That being said, since I haven’t been every-day sick for the last two weeks, I know my body is trying. Indeed, some days I’ve woken up and felt almost normal (whatever that is). So I continue to ingest different probiotics and fermented foods (kimchi) in hopes that I’ll once again find the magic formula that literally clears things up. But in the meantime and for the record, this back-and-forth isn’t fun for me. Pick a lane, body!

The feeling-fine lane, that is.

In an effort to be productive, this afternoon I attempted to install a utility sink at a friend’s art studio. I say attempted because before I could make much progress, I knocked over an open quart of pink paint and made an absolute mess. As if that weren’t enough, I didn’t notice the mess until I stepped in it and nearly went into the splits as one of my legs went one direction and the other went the other. Color me terrified. All I could think about was my recently operated-on knee. Praise the lord, I was fine. And after about thirty minutes of cleaning up paint, so was (most of) the floor.

Here’s a picture of the spot where I almost became a unich.

Curse words were said.

Here’s a before picture of the sink installation. I guess a cabinet used to be there but was ripped out. The tank is the hot water heater.

Thankfully, getting the sink assembled and connected went fine. I often get overwhelmed by projects like this because no two jobs are ever the same, but it was just a matter of going step-by-step. Now, granted, the box the sink came in said, “Everything you need is included!” but the instructions on the inside of the box said, “Anchor the sink to the floor with concrete bolts (NOT INCLUDED).” So that sucked. Plus, I had to go to the hardware store to get a longer supply line, since I turned the sink sideways and one of the lines wouldn’t reach. But whatever, we figure things out.

Here’s the final product.

At one point while working today, I noticed a blob of pink paint on my leg, a spot I’d missed earlier. Getting up off the floor and making my way to the bathroom sink, everything hurt–my head, my back, my ankle. And not that these things individually were unbearable, but on top of my sinus infection and a number of other life problems I’m facing at the moment, it was all too much. Mostly because I really have been working hard lately (these last few years) to be healthy and get some of this stuff figured out. And I really do believe the body is capable of healing itself. My general take on the body, healing, and even life itself is, “Everything you need is included!” And yet some days it feels like I’m missing something, like I’m doing something wrong.

You can do this.

There’s an idea that a big part of the spiritual journey is learning endurance. I think about this a lot, that before I was born I probably made the mistake of asking the gods for patience, maybe even compassion for those who suffer. I say mistake because there’s only one way to learn these things. You have to be continually frustrated. You have to go through hell and survive. Only then can your character truly be refined or changed. Only then can you learn to surrender, learn to trust. Only then can you look at someone else who’s suffering and honestly say, “Sweetheart, I know this sucks, but you can do this.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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How to Change the World (Blog #834)

Yesterday I started reading a book about dream interpretation and active imagination, active imagination being a technique you can use to dialogue with various parts of your unconscious. For example, you could dialogue with the part of you that’s depressed, angry, or lazy. Or the part of you that doesn’t want to lose weight (and probably has a good reason for that) even though you do want to (or rather, your ego or personality does). The basic idea is that you get quiet and still, then ask your unconscious to present an image or symbol that represents that energy pattern in your life. I’d like to talk to the part of me that’s resentful. Then you see who or what shows up and you have a conversation with it, with yourself.

As I spent most of today continuing to read the book I started yesterday, I tried this active imagination exercise earlier this evening with several different parts of myself, including my resentful part. Y’all, it was fascinating. It presented itself as a poor, newsie-type boy with bad grammar. “Whadayawant?” it said.

“I’d like to hear what you have to say,” I replied.

“Oh yeah, you ain’t been so interested before,” it said.

“Well, I’d like to try again,” I said.

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation, but this is an important point in active imagination or talking to your internal parts–because they’ve been so frequently ignored, they often won’t want to chat. So you have to let them know you’re serious about (re)establishing a relationship with them. Sweetheart, I’m here for you. In the case of my inner resentful kid, he ended up saying that I give him a lot of crap for not knowing enough, not knowing enough being an internal attitude of mine that manifests itself as my cramming book after book into my brain and always having to learn. “You must think I’m a real dope,” he said. Later he said that it wasn’t that he was against learning, but he’d really like to have a break now and then. “Maybe you could just sit around and chew on a toothpick,” he said.

I realize this may sound like a bunch of crap, but it’s something that hit home for me. Lately I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself to produce, stay busy, learn more, and even heal. Because my outer life doesn’t look like I want it to, I feel like I’ve got to DO something about it. And whereas this may be true, going nonstop is exhausting. But when I think of that kid I dialogued with this evening, I picture someone free in his body and world. A kid who’d just assume lie around or play baseball than read a book or LEARN. Honestly, that sounds nice. I could use more of that–relaxation.

One of the book’s points is that when your unconscious gives you information (in a dream or via active imagination) it’s not enough to think about or even interpret that information–you need to do something with it. For example, after my inner resentful kid told me I could be a real stick in the mud, I went for a walk and–according to his suggestion–didn’t listen to an informational podcast along the way. Last night I dreamed I drank pickle juice, which I associate with being sour but also full of electrolytes (energy). And whereas I’m still chewing on the meaning, I’m thinking it has to do with the idea that although some of my current experiences are sour, they’re giving me energy for what’s to come. Anyway, the point is that in order to HONOR the dream, I drank some pickle juice for breakfast.

This idea, that you need to do something with the knowledge your unconscious gives you, seems to be true across the board. For example, recently I got a text message that fundamentally bothered me. Essentially it was from someone I really don’t know that well who wanted a favor. Well, this has happened a number of times before, and although it’s always bothered me, I just ignored it, which is to say I ignored the part of myself that was bothered. However, when it happened this time, I dealt with it directly. I said no. And whereas my answer was well-received, that’s not the point. The point is that when your unconscious or even your intuition gives you information, it’s usually asking you to take an action. To further illustrate the point, there were a lot of insights about my relationships I had in therapy that never really “sunk in” until I had the balls to have difficult conversations and–in some cases–set boundaries.

Granted, my therapist says that you don’t have to take action EVERY time you’re alerted to a problem or a situation. “The important thing is to see things for what they are,” she told me once when someone I knew had said something shitty to me. In that case, I acknowledged their behavior for what it was and let it slide. Still, I had fantasies of telling that person off and ultimately wasn’t satisfied until I said SOMETHING to them.

For the record, I didn’t tell them off; I was simply honest. I think this is shitty. This is another point the book I’m reading makes–that our dreams and fantasies are often extreme because they need to get our attention. Last night after the pickle juice dream I dreamed that I was yelling at someone who wouldn’t let me have fun with my friends or, later, be by myself. “FUCK OFF!” I said. And whereas I think the interpretation of this dream goes back to my needing to go easier on myself and take a break now and then, the point remains the same–my unconscious isn’t asking that I start aggressively telling other people, or even my inner task master, to fuck off. Rather, it’s simply trying to alert me to the fact that a previously ignored part of me would like to be heard, would like to be considered.

Start by accepting every part of yourself.

For quite a while now, there’s been a (small) idea floating around the globe about equality–equal rights for women, for all races, for all sexualities. Along these lines, there’s also the idea that everyone deserves to have a voice. And whereas sometimes when I look at the flapdoodle people say and share on social media, I fundamentally agree with this–the right to free speech. Also, and I realize I’m not the first to do so, I’d like to propose that equality and freedom of speech start at home, inside of you. What I mean is that if there’s any part of you that’s angry, resentful, sad, depressed or anything else, and you’re unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider it, then I guarantee that you’ll be unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider something or someone outside of you as well. Conversely, the more you open up to the variety of voices inside of you, the more you’ll open up the variety of voices outside of you. Want everyone in the world to be accepted? Start by accepting every part of yourself. This isn’t easy, of course, but it’s how you truly change the world. You change YOUR world.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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