On Being Stuck with Yourself (Blog #955)

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Lately I’ve been talking about my need for patience. I still don’t have any. At least today anyway. All I want to do is scream. For whatever reason, I’m currently Mr. Cranky Pants.

In an effort to keep my bad mood away from the rest of the world, I’ve spent this afternoon and evening locked away in my room watching movies. First I watched Damn Yankees, the musical about Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO, starring Tab Hunter, Gwen Verdon, and Ray Walston. Then I watched Jerry Maguire, starring Tom Cruise and Cuba Gooding, Jr. Somehow I missed this one in the nineties. (I must have been busy in the closet.) Anyway, you know the film–“Show me the money,” “You had me at hello,” “I DID NOT SHOPLIFT THE POOTIE.”

Unfortunately, these wonderful films did little to uplift my spirits. It’s just been one of those days. This evening I stopped up the toilet. Later as I was leaving one room for another, I whipped around and hit my forehead on the doorframe. I can’t tell you how unamused I was.

Earlier this week I had acupuncture, and the lady read my pulses. Supposedly they reveal a lot about you. Feeling my right wrist, she said, “Stressed?” Uh, yeah, who isn’t? Then she felt my left wrist and said, “Are you VERY depressed?” I mean, she didn’t even asked if I WAS depressed, but rather stated it as a fact. Like, I know you are depressed, now tell me how bad it is.

“I don’t think I am,” I said. “It runs in my family, but I don’t struggle with it.”

Of course, her comment was the wrong thing to say to a hypochondriac. You know the power of suggestion. I started thinking, Maybe I am depressed. This lady could know something I don’t. I mean, my pulses SAID. Crazy, I know. (Don’t worry, I’m in therapy.) But seriously, it took me a while to convince myself that I knew more about my mental states than a total stranger did. (A very nice lady, but a total stranger.) A couple years ago I saw a woman who claimed to be able to interpret my physical health by looking into my irises, and although she gave me a long list of things that she thought were wrong, she said NOTHING about my sinuses, my major complaint at the time. My point is that just because someone has a certificate hanging on their wall (my therapist would call it a receipt) doesn’t mean they know more about you and your body than you do.

Take these things with a grain of salt.

Maybe the whole shaker.

All this being said, days like today make me think I could spend more time acknowledging my feelings. Not that I’m depressed–I’ve been depressed before and know what that feels like–but on a lot of levels I am worn down, frustrated, and irritated. Just last night I unearthed two emotions (anger and overwhelm) that were decades old. And whereas I’d like to think that one can take the lid off Pandora’s emotional box and be free from all consequences within twenty-four hours, I know that’s foolishness. No, if you’re going to invite your feelings over to play, you can’t tell them to go home for dinner. First of all, you are home. Second of all, your feelings show up and leave when they want to.

In other words, you’re struck with yourself.

Don’t worry. This is a good thing. In the story of Pandora’s box, the LAST emotion to come out, the one with the final say, was HOPE.

The poet Rumi said, “In the hand of Love I am like a cat in a sack; Sometimes Love hoists me into the air, Sometimes Love flings me to the ground.” To me this means that no matter what kind of day you’re having, there’s love underneath it all–somewhere. For example, in the midst of my frustrations today, I’ve managed to laugh–at the movies I watched, at my life (if it were anyone else’s it’d be hilarious), at my own stubbornness (I will have a bad day, I will). On an ever deeper level, my emotions have been inviting me to come back to myself, to make room for even this. So often when I have an uncomfortable feeling, I want it to go away. But more and more I’m realizing the work is about accepting all parts of yourself right here, right now. Even your frustrations, irritations, and anger.

In light of this, I’m considering getting a t-shirt made–Bad attitudes welcome here. And on the back–My bad attitudes, not yours.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing requires letting go of that thing you can’t let go of.

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Flipping the Script (Blog #954)

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This afternoon and evening I helped a client repair the fence in their backyard. (It was falling over, and their dog was jumping into their neighbor’s yard. Their neighbor didn’t like this.) And whereas the fence mending itself went well, while moving a heavy rock along the fence I smashed my middle finger and ripped my fingernail open. There was blood and everything.

And then I stepped in dog shit.

These things happen.

You know how you can begin a project with a good attitude, with hope in your heart that things will go fabulously, but then you start hurting yourself and stepping in shit (and there’s no one to blame but yourself) and your good attitude goes down the toilet? (I do.) That being said, today as my finger stopped bleeding and throbbing, I worked to regain proper perspective. Your finger will heal, I thought. The dog didn’t purposefully shit where he thought you’d be stepping. He just needed to go. We all need to go now and then.

Just about this time, a mosquito bit me.

Looking toward the heavens I thought, What?! I haven’t had enough for one day?

Since I only had about thirty minutes left on the fence project and hate having bug spray on my skin, I thought about taking my chances. But then I thought about how much mosquitoes love me and how badly my skin reacts to them, so I took a break, walked to my car (right through the dog shit gauntlet), and reached for the bug spray. I’d rather be covered in DEET than itching to death, I thought. For me, using the spray was an act of self-compassion, a way to prevent further suffering. Sometimes this is the best you can do. Earlier I’d put a Bandaid on my bleeding finger. It didn’t change the fact that something shitty had happened, but it did keep things from getting worse, and it did support healing.

Twenty years ago when I was a teenager, I had a family friend who was a mentor of sorts. Our relationship isn’t private, but it would take a while to fully explain, so suffice it to say that this person and I communicated by letters because their personal circumstances didn’t allow for much more. They were in poor health and had limited resources, so I did a lot for them–typed up and made copies of documents, that sort of thing. Looking back, I can see that I didn’t know how to say no. For one thing, they were an adult. I was seventeen. For another, they were offering a lot of “sage” advice about matters I was interested in at the time–the Bible, the government–and it didn’t feel like I could question them. I remember thinking I had to do whatever they said.

For the last twenty years, the letters from this person have remained in a binder untouched. When I went through all my things and had my estate sale three years ago, I thought perhaps I should toss them. But then I thought I should read them first, so I just kept them, imagining one day I would. Well, tonight was the night. I opened the binder and read all twenty-two letters. (Yes, I numbered them.) And whereas most of the contents were benign, some of this person’s statements, quite frankly, were rude and inappropriate.

“You should do as directed.”

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I guess you only write when you want something.”

Followed by, “Send me a copy of such and such.”

The primary emotions I felt tonight were anger (because this person was brash, passive aggressive, and lacked boundaries) and overwhelm (because at the time I didn’t realize they were asking for more than a teenager could give, but I still felt obligated to act as their–unpaid–personal assistant). These are the SAME emotions I felt when I initially received the letters, of course, but I didn’t know how to express myself back then. I didn’t know how to say, “Whoa, Trigger!”

However, I do know. As I was reading the letters, I actually said, “Fuck you!” Now, does this person care? No, they died a long time ago. Besides, it’s not about them. It’s about me, about me finally letting go of an unhealthy relationship and the old emotions associated with it. Along these lines, after I talked to my family about the letters, I burned them. (The letters, not my family.) Every single page. Up in smoke in our backyard.

Sweeping off the ashy patio, I said, “The past is over” then walked back inside.

“The past is over” is a common phrase in the self-help world, but I’d like to be clear. Until I said, “Fuck you” and burned the letters tonight, it wasn’t over for me. Had I not given voice to my previously unacknowledged frustrations or had I held on to something that only upset me to read it, the past would have continued. This is the deal. You don’t just get over something. Despite what Frozen and even I sometimes say, you don’t just let it go. When your finger is smashed, you first have to admit that you’ve been hurt. You can’t just mutter, “Oh, I’m fine” when you’re really not. No matter what you’re feeling, you’ve got to be honest about it. Even if the feeling started twenty years ago. Even if the feeling isn’t “nice.”

Another way I could keep the past alive with respect to this situation would be to bitch and moan about what an awful human this person was, to go around for the rest of my life and say, “Can you believe the way they treated me?!” Now, the truth is this person didn’t treat me terribly. Sure, they were at times abrupt and overbearing, but at times they were quite endearing and kind. As my therapist says, people are complex. Even if they had been all-the-time mean and nasty, I know it wasn’t personal. Dogs shit on the ground because that’s what they do, and people are mean and nasty because–I don’t know–they are. What I do know is that how this person treated me is how they treated everyone (mosquitoes bite me, mosquitoes bite you), so what good would it do for me to complain and play the victim?

That’s right, it wouldn’t.

Life isn’t out to get you.

In the world of speech and debate, which I was involved with in high school and college, there’s something called a turn. A turn is when one side brings out a piece of evidence supporting their argument and–later–the other side shows that the evidence, properly interpreted, ACTUALLY supports THEIR side. The kids these days would call this flipping the script, and it’s what I suggest doing anytime you smash your finger, step in dog shit, get bitten by a mosquito, or unearth something from your past that upsets you. That is, use a difficult situation for your benefit. Rather than playing the victim, play the victor. If it’s a simple injury or irritation, use it as an opportunity to slow down and practice self-care. Remind yourself that life isn’t out to get you. If it’s something more serious and involves another person, consider it a chance to practice emotional expression, boundary setting, and better communication. Even if the person is dead, see that they’ve helped you get clear about something important and that–going forward–you can be that much more clear with yourself and others.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s hard to say where a kindness begins or ends.

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Let It Go, Nancy (Blog #953)

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Well, hell. My internet (hotspot) is running slow AGAIN. It just took me twenty minutes to get online and upload tonight’s picture. Which means every ounce of patience I had before I sat down to blog is now gone. Poof. Evaporated. Out the window. (Just like Donald Trump’s tax returns.) Not to worry. I’m sure my patience will return tomorrow after I’ve gotten a good night’s rest. Ugh. Maybe that’s my problem. Last night I didn’t sleep well. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was up until four in the morning looking at my phone. In my defense, I couldn’t shut my mind off. Maybe it was the coffee. Regardless, this is one of the great tricks of life–you’re often wide awake when you need to be tired and tired when you need to be wide awake.

And impatient when you need to be patient.

Which I guess means I need to be patient now.

Breathe, Marcus.

Something that’s on my mind today is the idea of letting go. For the last few weeks my mom’s been going through our house and garage–throwing away this, donating that, and setting aside everything else for an eventual yard sale. Well, I’ve recently gotten involved. This afternoon my dad and I took our broken lawnmower to the dump, and this evening I started sorting through the small storage room in our garage. Oh my gosh, y’all, talk about a trip down memory lane. When I was a kid, this storage room was my playroom, the place I used to invent contraptions and gadgets. Anyway, tonight I noticed a clothespin nailed to the doorframe. And whereas I don’t remember exactly why I put it there, I’m sure it was for some sort of booby trap.

My point–that clothespin has been there since Tupperware parties were popular, and it’s never once complained. Clearly that clothespin could teach me a thing or two about patience.

While going through the storage room, I began making piles–trash, keep, yard sale. Y’all, I wasn’t always this way, but I love a good trash pile. I guess because whenever I get rid of something I no longer need I feel a sense of freedom. This is what I mean by letting go. I literally don’t have to hold on to that thing any longer. To be responsible for it the rest of my life. To insure it. To dust it.

One of the boxes I opened tonight was full of cassette tapes. Remember those things? They came AFTER 8-tracks but before compact discs (CDs). Well, since I grew up on cassettes, I kept thinking how familiar they felt and how I kind of wanted to hold on to them (but kind of didn’t because they were mostly country music). But then I remembered the last time I tried to play a cassette tape on my boom box (yes, I own a boom box!) and how it ate the tape the way I eat pancakes when I’m starving. That’s right–no more tape.

Tonight it occurred to me that we often hold on to both physical objects and our beliefs (resentments, judgments) simply because they’re familiar or because we can’t be bothered with something new, even if it’s better. Like, after cassette tapes came CDs, and now there’s digital music, which is the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps some quality is sacrificed with digital (right, vinyl lovers?), but think about it. You’d be lucky to get two cassette tapes in your front pocket, but you can easily fit your phone there, and your phone will hold thousands of songs. And yet there are those who refuse to catch up with technology, folks who still use VCRs and cassette players, folks who have yet to learn that video killed the radio star.

If the idea of continuing to use cassette tapes when you could simply use your phone sounds ridiculous, that’s exactly my point. It would be ridiculous to hold on to something that’s no longer useful, especially when you have other, better options. Getting back to the idea of holding on to your resentments and judgments, it’s equally ridiculous to refuse to let go of your drama/trauma stories about people or events that hurt you back when Tupperware parties were popular. Caroline Myss says, “You’re still upset about something that happened twenty years ago? Stop it. You’re wasting your precious life.” Like, let–it–go, Nancy.

Breathe.

Forgive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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Like It or Not (Blog #952)

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This morning I finished listening to an audio series by Caroline Myss and Ron Roth called Spiritual Exploration: Navigating the Dark Night of the Soul. I first listened to this series years ago and recently felt compelled to go through it again.

Note: when you feel compelled to do something, do it.

It’s funny how sometimes a statement sticks and sometimes it doesn’t. For example, when I owned my dance studio, one night some of my most faithful clients were there, and I was talking about how in swing dancing rather than standing upright and shoving yourself in a particular direction, it’s important to lean into a movement, to let gravity PULL you where you want to go. Well, I’d said this no less than a dozen times previously, in the same way, in different ways, but that night, for whatever reason, it clicked for one of my students. They said, “OH, I GET IT!”

Who knows why they didn’t get it before.

It simply wasn’t time.

Anyway, today in the last audio file of the Dark Night of the Soul series, Ron Roth said something that I’d heard him say before but didn’t “get.” (It simply wasn’t time.) He was talking about loving other people, and whereas I can’t swear he meant other DIFFICULT people, people you might look down on, feel superior to, or be upset or pissed off with, those are the ones I thought of. Because, let’s be honest, those are the hard ones to love. Anyway, enough stalling. He said, “Like it or not, God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves you.”

Slow down. Go back and read that again.

Not that this is a new concept for me, the idea that God, life, or the universe loves everyone equally, but it struck me today in a new way. I guess because I have hopes and dreams for my life and would like to believe that whoever or whatever runs this planet, even if it doesn’t agree with everything I do, loves me unconditionally and is behind me, is rooting for me. And if I really believe that’s true for me, then I HAVE to believe that’s true for everyone. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this, that unlike most of us, the gods don’t play favorites. They love all of us. They want all of us to succeed.

This is a game changer if you truly get it.

This afternoon I spent time with my family, and I couldn’t help but see them differently. I like these people to begin with, of course, but I kept thinking, These are people God really cares about. This evening I ran some errands and found myself absolutely riveted by the store clerks who waited on me. I thought, This person’s gotta be pretty fabulous if God loves them as much as he loves me. And whereas that may sound like I think I’m a big deal, I do. I think we all do. This is my point. We are a big deal. At the same time, we’re no more of a big deal than anyone else is. When we imagine we are, that’s when we get into trouble. When we drive through traffic or scroll through Facebook thinking we know it all and that that other guy or gal is just an idiot driver, Republican, or Democrat rather than our equal, we inevitably separate from rather than connect with them.

This is our choice.

For me where the rubber of this idea of us all being equally loved by God really hits the road is in the area of my enemies, those people who have–from my perspective–harmed me in some way and that I’d really rather never see again. And whereas I’d like to say this is a short list of people, it’s quite long and includes exes who have cheated on me, friends who have lied to me, and former clients and employers who haven’t paid me. Like, good riddance. That being said, I’m SURE I’m on a number of other peoples’ shit lists. Because I’m not perfect. (There, I said it.) Anyway, I’ve been thinking about those folks on my shit list, the ones for whom I’d have a difficult time praying, “God, please bless them the way I want you to bless me” and really meaning it. And then I’ve been praying that prayer for them. Because God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves me.

Like it or not.

And I need to be reminded of that.

You know that saying that hurting people hurt people? Well, it occurs to me that when we’re unwilling to see those who have hurt us as just as special as we see ourselves and unwilling to desire the very best for them, we are, in effect if not in conscious practice, desiring that they continue to hurt (as punishment) and–consequently–continue to hurt others. This is bad logic. Think about your most miserable relative, the one who makes holidays oh-so-much fun. Don’t you suffer when they suffer? Wouldn’t you prefer for them to be happy, and wouldn’t you be happier if they were? This is how life works. We either suffer with one another or we celebrate with one another, but we’re all in this together.

Like it or not.

My suggestion: like it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Answers come built-in. There are no "just problems."

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On Others’ Beliefs and Two Left Feet (Blog #951)

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Well hell. My home internet (hotspot) is running slow tonight, and it just took me thirty minutes to get online, download today’s picture, and start a new post. I swear, at some point in my life I must have made the mistake of asking God for patience. First he made me a dance instructor (just imagine teaching an uncoordinated married couple how to samba), and now this. Seriously, if you ever want patience, come try my hotspot on a night like tonight. And no, I didn’t mean for that to sound dirty. Unless, of course, your name is Zac Efron.

Awe, it’s been a while since I’ve made a Zac Efron reference.

Recently I read an article in Psychology Today about boundaries. And whereas it was mostly focused on what we choose to share online, it brought up a good point–if you wouldn’t take out a billboard with whatever you’re saying on it, maybe you shouldn’t put it on Facebook. Because that’s essentially what you’re doing. Telling all your friends, neighbors, and God knows who else–I’m heartbroken, my bowels are WAY off today, Trump can suck an egg. This morning I saw my therapist, and she said, “That’s right. If you wouldn’t print it on a t-shirt and walk down Main Street, don’t say it.”

One idea the article presented was that Facebook and other social media platforms by design create a false sense of intimacy, that it FEELS like we’re sharing the personal details of our lives with a select few, but in fact we’re not. We’re sharing them with EVERYONE. (Don’t tell me you haven’t creeped on a stranger’s feed. Well, someone’s creeped on your feed too.) Another phenomenon that happens online is that whenever you read or watch something, it FEELS like it just happened. People watch dance videos I uploaded to YouTube years ago and respond as if whatever I did just occurred, as if they were right there in the room and I’d asked for their opinion. Don’t wear flip flops when you dance!  Get off your heels! The blonde hair was a mistake!

Of course, few of us would be so bold–so fucking rude, frankly–in person, especially with strangers. But there’s something called cyber courage (cyber rudeness) that makes us lose our boundaries and our manners. It makes us lose our patience with our fellow humans.

Something I’ve been chewing on the last few days is having sympathy and empathy for other people and their experiences. What I mean is that–like we all do–I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about myself, trying to understand me. And whereas this has been extremely helpful, it’s also often left me scratching my head when it comes to others. Part of this head-scratching, I think, is simply a matter of what comes easy to one person doesn’t necessarily come easy to another. This is why teaching dance has been good for me. I pick up on dance things fairly quickly, so any time I run across someone who doesn’t, especially if I’m hungry or in a bad mood, it’s a chance for me to consciously practice patience. A chance for me to take a deep breath and remind myself that this person isn’t tripping over their two left feet IN ORDER to piss me off.

There’s a popular idea that people are doing the best they can in any given moment. I once had a friend who told me some of the most intimate details (traumas) of their life the very first time we ever hung out. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this should have been a red flag–because when you have good boundaries, you reserve the intimate details of your life for those who have earned the right to hear them. My point being that I don’t believe my friend was intentionally having poor boundaries; they simply had never been taught them. My therapist and I talk about this a lot. Most of us (including me and my therapist) didn’t grow up being taught to set limits with ourselves and others, being taught to be direct (and kind) in conversation.

Getting back to the idea of a thing being easy for one person but not for another, I often make the mistake of believing that simply because I’ve learned or have started to learn something, the entire world has. Of course, this isn’t true. Today I told my therapist that I wished people could be more straightforward, and she said, “Marcus, for some people, being straightforward would be as terrifying as you walking out that door, suddenly being in China, and not knowing a lick of Chinese.” This is what I mean about having sympathy and empathy for someone else’s experience. In writing there’s the idea that even if a character isn’t the hero of YOUR story, they’re most certainly the hero of THEIR story. My point being that you may get upset with people in your life for having certain political leanings or–I don’t know–being bad dancers, but for them, their beliefs and two left feet make perfect sense. Absolutely perfect sense. For them, you’re the odd one.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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On Stumbling Blocks and Stepping Stones (Blog #950)

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After forty hours of fasting, this morning I weighed. The verdict: I lost 2.6 pounds in 24 hours. That’s a total of 13.6 pounds in the last seven weeks and brings me to a weight I haven’t seen in almost two years. Well, except for that time I got the flu twice in one season. But seriously tho, the last time I got down to this weight I decided I could live without losing any more, that weighing what I did in college was enough. And not that I’m deciding it’s enough forever–because my goal isn’t to reach a certain number, but rather to eat well and exercise and see what happens–but I am deciding it’s enough for this moment.

So this evening I ate cornbread.

Tonight’s blog is #950 in a row, and for whatever reason it feels like a big deal. I guess because I remember how proud I felt when I reached #50, and this is 900 more, 900 more days of–life. (I made it.) Somewhere along the way, I do feel like something shifted. I still have bad days, of course, and all the emotions. My outer circumstances haven’t changed all that much, although I guess I have lost weight and made headway with certain physical challenges like sinus infections. And whereas other inner and outer challenges remain, the last 950 days have taught me that I can handle whatever comes my way. Even if it’s not pretty.

Especially if it’s not pretty.

Bring it on, world.

I take that back. I’m probably IN my current predicaments because I’ve said, “Bring it on, world” before. Not that it works that way. If you’re here on the planet, you’re going to face inner and outer challenges because it’s how we grow and evolve. Suffering strongly encourages us to change, to transform.

I hate this as much as you do.

This evening I’ve been irritated about a business matter, which may nor may not turn out to be a big deal. Anyway, I’ve spent the entire night doing things to distract myself from thinking about it–folding laundry, downloading music files (as if I don’t have plenty to listen to already), eating cornbread. Of course, this hasn’t worked, and I’m still stuck with my feelings. The good news is that 1) recently my therapist told me she thought I was better at feeling my feelings than I give myself credit for and 2) I’ve come to understand that even uncomfortable feelings provide us with information. For example, my therapist says when she makes important business or personal decisions, she wants her heart to feel light as a feather. If it doesn’t? Then the decision’s not right. In this sense, I know that if I have feelings I want to run away from, they’re likely simply telling me that something is “off.”

Seen from this perspective, our icky feelings are our allies, in that they alert us to things we NEED to think about even if we don’t want to. For example, time and time again during the past two plus years I’ve started the day with a gross emotion and–thanks to this blog and its ability to help me process–come to a better understanding of myself, others, and the world around me. When I think about the last 950 days, the current matter that’s bothering me seems like less of a problem–not only because I’m reminded of more difficult situations that worked out just fine, but also because I’m reminded that each difficult situation offers us a pearl of wisdom if we are willing to take it.

Along these lines, earlier tonight I read a pamphlet about forgiveness that I picked up at my chiropractor’s office, and one of the points was “learn the lesson.” The point being that forgiving someone or getting past a situation is easier if you can allow it to help you grow. I’ve often said that my ex was real pill but that he was largely instrumental in getting me to therapy (thanks to his ridiculous behavior, not his encouraging words). And therapy’s changed my life. This doesn’t mean anything he did or didn’t do was right and good, of course, but it does mean he provided me an opportunity to grow.

The important part: I took it.

In my experience, few of us SEEK opportunities to grow. Like, who wakes up in the morning and says, “You know, I’ve got a free weekend coming up and think I’d like to turn my world upside and completely change my beliefs about myself, others, God, and the universe”? No, most of us have to be “offered” opportunities to grow, largely where we don’t want them. For example, I would have preferred my ex to be “the one,” to be someone he, quite frankly, was not, rather than the catalyst for my transformation. Earlier this summer a client tried to pull a fast one and get me to do twice the work I’d agreed to but for the same amount, and I would have preferred for them to be integrous, rather than my chance to speak up. My point being that we don’t get to decide how someone else behaves. We only get to decide how we respond, whether we’ll use a challenging situation to become bitter or better.

A popular concept in new age and self-help literature is that the world is an illusion. I’ve come to believe that this doesn’t mean your dining room table or headache isn’t real, although the argument certainly can be made that these things aren’t as solid as we once believed they were. Everything’s made of vibrating atoms and so on. Rather, the idea of something being an illusion is just this–that things aren’t what they seem. Something else is afoot here, Mr. Watson. Using my previous examples, what I mean is that the situation with my ex wasn’t about love or hate or any of his piss-poor behavior. Although I could have made it this, it wasn’t about me being right and him being wrong for all eternity. Likewise, everything I’ve ever been upset or worried about over the last 950 days hasn’t been about those specific things. Instead, it’s been about how I responded to them, whether or not my soul grew or shrank.

This is a mystical perspective, of course, but it’s the one that will ultimately bring you the most peace. Your diet isn’t about how much you weigh; it’s about whether or not you’re being kind to yourself. Are you losing weight as a form of self-punishment or self-love? This is the illusion part. Either way you’re on a diet, but your motivation determines whether or not you’ll be content with your results. If you’re beating yourself up, nothing will ever be good enough. If you’re loving yourself, whatever happens will be okay. In terms of your challenges, do you see them as stumbling blocks or stepping stones? Either way you’re looking at a rock. It’s just a matter of whether the rock uses you, or you use the rock.

My suggestion: use the rock.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.

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On Being Confident and Enough (Blog #949)

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Last week, from Sunday evening until Tuesday at noon, I fasted for forty consecutive hours, and since it went so well (I lost 4.2 pounds and reached my lowest weight since I don’t know when), I’m doing it again. Last night at eight I stopped eating, and I haven’t eaten all day today. And whereas I’ve been hungry, only water and green tea have passed my lips. Granted, I’ve been tempted. This afternoon my aunt offered me a bowl of chili, and I almost dove headfirst into the pot. But, having seen good results with what I’ve done thus far (I’ve lost a total of eleven pounds as of this morning), I’m too motivated to continue to quit.

This last week, honestly, I probably ate “worse” than I have since I started my one-year-to-forty health plan seven weeks ago. For example, this weekend was full of carbs–I inhaled tacos, pasta, a huge cheeseburger and fries, AND pancakes (with peanut butter, butter, and syrup). Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now I’m starving. Anyway, despite my indulgences, when I weighed this morning I was still down 3.8 pounds from a week ago and only up .4 pounds from my lowest (after last week’s fast). I assume this is because my body’s metabolism is changing and also because whenever I indulged I made my next meal a light snack. Saint Augustine said, “Love, and do what you will.” I say, “Find balance, and eat what you will.”

But seriously, pancakes with peanut butter.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions and their physical manifestation, and we dove into an issue that used to plague me quite a bit but hasn’t plagued me in a while–hives. During our conversation, my chiropractor asked how having hives made me feel. Panicked, out of control, I thought. (In his method, you don’t have to verbalize your answers). Then he asked me to go back to the first time I felt that way. Thinking of a time when I was about five or six, I said, “Got it.” Then he said, “If you could have felt any other way [besides panicked or out of control], what would that have been?”

“The word that keeps coming to mind is confident,” I said.

Well, me must have hit on something true because when I left my chiropractor’s office and climbed in my car, I began repeating to myself out loud, I am confident, and ended up crying. So often I think my entire intuitive and healing system is broken, but moments like this one remind me that it’s not. Likewise, the fact that I can stick to a dietary plan and lose weight reminds me that I am not the exception to the rules of health and healing. My body (inside and out) was made to work.

Getting back to the idea of confidence, this is what I’m talking about. Sometimes when you’ve faced one disappointment after another, you start to question whether you’ve got what it takes to get by in this world. You start to think that relationships, success, and healing are for everyone else but not for you. But the truth is anything can happen to any of us. We all have our challenges. We all have our triumphs. Things can turn–either way–on a dime. More and more I believe we all have “the stuff” to handle whatever comes our way.

Something else I’ve been thinking about today centers around the idea of reaching your goals. For example, seven weeks ago I set a goal to lose ten to fifteen pounds, and–technically–I’m there. Now, this doesn’t mean I’m finished eating well and fasting once a week, since my original goal was to maintain a certain weight and size and–also–work out consistently for a year and see what happens. God knows I’ve seen what happens when I DON’T eat well and exercise. But my point is that part of me is never satisfied. I lose ten pounds and instead of celebrating I immediately think it needs to be twenty, which simply isn’t reasonable for me. Thus, nothing is ever good enough. I’m never good enough.

My therapist says that getting what you want is scary, that her office is full of people who say they want a different body or better relationship, and as soon as they come close to actually getting one, find a way to sabotage it. They binge on a bucket of ice cream. They flake out our cheat on Mr. or Miss Right. They shoot themselves in the foot. In effect, they prove to themselves that what they want doesn’t exist or is beyond their reach. This has been true in my experience. I’m so used to struggling (in terms of healing, for example), it’s easier to think my goals are unattainable than to think they are attainable and NOT reach them.

Thankfully, this attitude is changing for me. In terms of my body, I’m believing more and more that “this is good enough,” that I don’t have to be the perfect weight, have the perfect cholesterol. There’s no such thing. There’s simply how you are right here, right now, and are you going to love yourself or not? Over two and a half years ago I set out on a journey to blog every day for a year. Well, I did it, and my goal became to blog every day for two years, which I also did. Now the current goal is to blog every day for three years, and I’m telling myself that’s gotta be it–not matter what else I have to say, no matter how many people have or haven’t read it, no matter whether or not the project seems successful to myself or others. At some point, you stop struggling. You give it up. You surrender. After you’ve done all you can do, you let go of the results.

Whatever the results are, they’re enough. You’re enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

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When You Find Yourself at Your Worst (Blog #948)

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Ugh. It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m just now writing. Thanks to Daylight Savings, today was technically longer than usual (25 instead of 23 hours), but seriously, where did it go? This morning my aunt and I went to breakfast, then this afternoon we went antique shopping. Then I drove home (from Tulsa), taught a dance lesson, and had dinner. Then I unpacked and helped my parents with some stuff. Now here I am–braindead and unsure of what to say.

More than anything else, I’m tired. My body wants to sleep. Still, I’m pushing it to stay awake and function, and this is causing me to be increasingly frustrated. I want to throw this laptop across the room and screw this entire project. Like, what’s it gotten me anyway? Never mind the fact that it’s changed my entire life for the better. In this moment, I’m over it.

I’ve heard Caroline Myss say that we should be less concerned about who we are when we’re at our best and more concerned about who we are when we’re at our worst. You know, when we want to throw things across the room, curse people out, spend money we don’t have, and run away. According to Myss, the reason we should be concerned about this side of ourselves (rather than just chalking it up to being tired or blaming our mood on someone or something other than ourselves) is because this is the side of us that’s really running the show, influencing our health and relationships. Think about it. You don’t have an upset stomach because most of the day you’re calm; you have an upset stomach because part of the day you’re a powder keg. You don’t break up with your ex because they’re a total monster; you break up with your ex because they’re a partial monster (and yet it matters).

For me, the answer’s not about getting rid of any frustration or anger. It’s not even about not blowing up, although I think it’s wise to keep one’s outbursts to a minimum. Rather, it’s about becoming intimately acquainted with all parts of myself. This starts first with acknowledging any and all feelings (physical sensations) and emotions (states of mind) I’m having, and second with giving them a home.

I’ll explain.

This morning at breakfast I told my aunt that I have a ritual I go through whenever I buy new things. For example, with clothes I take the tags off, sometimes wash the clothes, and always hang them up or put them in a drawer. With books I remove any stickers, then put the books on my shelves. “You HOME them,” my aunt said. “You give them a home.”

Getting back to the idea of our feelings and emotions, I’m suggesting that if I were to blow up and throw my laptop across the room, I would NOT be giving my feelings and emotions a place to live. I might be expressing them, I might be externalizing them, but I would also be distancing myself from, well, myself. This is the deal whether you’re externalizing your emotions (biting someone’s head off) or internalizing your emotions (stuffing them down and pretending they don’t exist), you end up taking part of yourself and putting it “over there.” Consequently, you cut yourself off from valuable information. For example, when I’m able to sit with my tiredness and frustration and ask them what they have to say (rather than ask them to leave), they tell me that I’m pushing myself too hard, that I’m asking too much of myself mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

“Whooooaaa, Trigger,” they say.

Admittedly, my first instinct is NOT to home my feelings and emotions. When I’m upset, I’d much rather throw a fit or stuff things down than actually get curious about what’s going on. That was one of Myss’s points when she said that we should be concerned with who we are at our worst. Not like, oh, there’s a serious problem, but like, oh, I wonder why I do that. For example, one of my triggers is being told what to do, but at this point in the game I know it has nothing to do with anyone who happens to be offering me unsolicited advice. Rather, it has to do with my fears and insecurities about being able to take care of myself, about whether I know enough or am enough. Like, I should have it all figured out, and if someone’s telling me what to do, that clearly means I don’t.

If it’s not obviously, these last few statements are bullshit beliefs. Myss would call them spells, things that aren’t true but that we buy into and that have (huge) influence over us nonetheless. The good news is that once you become aware of your bullshit beliefs, you can do something about them. How do you become aware of your beliefs? Get to know yourself. HOME your feelings and emotions and listen to what they have to tell you. Get to know your triggers. When you find yourself at your worst, consider that you’re being given a window into your psyche and soul. Say, “Whoooooaaa, Trigger, this is an opportunity for me to grow. This is a chance for me to really change.”

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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The View Is Better at the Top (Blog #947)

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Currently I’m in Tulsa. This afternoon I visited a friend in the nursing home then did some window shopping. Well, I did buy a sock cap from a favorite vintage clothing store of mine that’s apparently closing their brick and mortar store. “The owner is moving everything online,” the clerk said.

Everything changes.

At one antique store I found a set of unique bookends that weren’t priced, so I asked the owner if they were for sale. “Yes,” he said, “for twenty-five dollars.” Well, since this was more than I wanted to spend, I said, “Thank you.” But then I added, “Would you take twenty?” Unfortunately, he said no. “I shouldn’t,” he said, “twenty-five really is a deal.” And whereas he was probably being honest–I looked up similar bookends online later, and most of them were north of fifty or sixty dollars–I still walked away from the purchase. Just because something is a deal, doesn’t mean you have to buy it.

Along these lines, my therapist says, “Just because you have a skill, doesn’t mean you have to use it.” For example, I’m good at teaching dance. I know that about myself. But despite the fact that I’ve invested a lot of time and money in dance–and still teach now and then–it’s not what I want to do forever. My heart and soul were in it at one time, but they’re elsewhere now, in writing and other creative endeavors. I’ll always love dancing–I’m going to a swing dance shortly–but it’s not what I want to do professionally forever.

Everything changes.

On the way to town today I started listening to a lecture by Caroline Myss called The Power of Modern Day Spell Casters. (It’s available for free when you sign up for her newsletter here.) So far, it’s glorious, and challenging. The idea is that any belief you have that directs your spirit and behavior qualifies as a spell that you’re under. For example, I’ve spoken before about going to dances out of town and feeling insecure in a big way–because I’m not the best dancer in the room, because strangers don’t talk to me, ask me to dance, or compliment  me. In short, I show up to a perfectly neutral dance hall and make it all about me. But getting back to the point, the only reason I do this is because I’m under a spell, because I’ve bought into the beliefs that my value has something to do with my dance ability and that perfect strangers should affirm me verbally.

How do you break a spell? According to Myss, you change the rules of the game. You change your behavior. For me, this would mean going up to strangers at dances rather than waiting on them to come up to me. It would mean given them compliments. In short, it would mean setting the tone for my own life and taking responsibility for my own fun.

Since the beginning, every time I write a blog I categorize it. I have over a dozen categories that blogs fall into on a regular basis–including Abundance, Letting Go, and Therapy and Healing–but, by far, the category I use the most is Perspective. And whereas early on I used Perspective as my “I don’t know what else to call it” category, I’ve come to believe it’s the most important. Because your perspective, how you see yourself, others, and the world around you, is everything. This is big, so I’m going to say it again.

How you see yourself, others, and the world around you is everything.

Myss explains perspective or perception like this. If you lived on the first story of a high-rise building in New York City and all you ever did was look out your window, you’d think the world was smelly, dirty, smoggy, and generally gross. But if you lived on the top floor of that same building and all you ever did was look out your window, you’d think the world was vast, full of lights and stars, and generally glorious. Either way you’d be in the same building, and either way–at least in your world–you’d be right.

In this analogy, the building is you–where you were born, who your parents are, how tall you are, how old you are. The floor you’re on is your perceptions, the beliefs or spells that run your life. Ground floor beliefs come from our tribes, religions, and families–we’re not like them, you can only make so much money, you are a worm. Top floor beliefs come from our souls–all is one, the faith of a mustard seed can move mountains, you are a child of God. And whereas you can’t change buildings, you can change floors. You can change the way you see things. The deal, however, is that once you change your perspective, you have to be ready for everything else to shift too. As I’ve said before, my world (including my friends, possessions, and finances) has been turned upside down since I really got serious, got in therapy, and started daily reflection with this blog.

Usually people say, “Everything changes” and mean, “Everything changes–and that’s a shame.” But the perspective you want to hold on to as you consciously change beliefs, break spells, and ascend floors is, “Everything changes–and that’s okay.” The view is better at the top.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

The Lost Art of Moseying (Blog #946)

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Earlier this week a friend called and asked if I wanted to ride with them to Tulsa today to pick up an antique lamp they recently dropped off to have repaired. And whereas I knew I’d be going to Tulsa tomorrow for both business and pleasure, I said, “Sure, I want to spend time with you.” The older I get, the more it’s important to me to spend time with the people who really count, even if it means getting up WAY earlier than usual, which I had to do this morning. Like, my alarm went off at seven, when it was still dark out. Y’all, I know my waking and sleeping hours are often turned upside down, but c’mon, it’s just arrogant getting up before the sun. What, you think you’re better than the center of our universe?

Despite my not being a morning person, believe it or not, I can–literally–rise to the occasion. Today I got myself together and managed to get to my friend’s on time. Well, fine. I was eight minutes late. And whereas my friend seemed a little put out, they quickly joked, “You’re ALWAYS late.” As my therapist would say, at least I’m consistent.

Marcus Coker–you can count on me to be there–five to ten minutes after I said I would be.

That’s me, predictable.

Thankfully, I wasn’t in charge of anything today. All I had to do was tag along and be a sidekick. Well, I take that back. I was in charge of deciding our lunch spot, but I ended up having some help. After my friend and I picked up their lamp and went somewhere else to buy a shade, we roamed around an antique store. The owner was super friendly, a real hoot. My friend said, “Your shop is freezing! I’d buy more if it were warmer.” The guy, who was wearing shorts despite the fact that it was fifty degrees outside (and inside I’m guessing), nearly died. Anyway, I asked him where we should eat. “Go to Vista at the Boathouse. It’s part of the Gathering Place [a new park],” he said. “I think you’ll say, ‘I’m glad we did this.'”

Boy was he ever right. My friend and I went to Vista at the Boathouse, and the atmosphere was great, the food fabulous. Just the right thing. After I downed two brisket tacos and a plateful of jerk chicken pasta, I wiped my lips, looked at my friend, and said, “I’m glad we did this.”

After lunch, my friend and I check out another antique store. And whereas I didn’t buy anything, I had fun strolling up and down every aisle, taking my sweet time.

Then we came back home.

Back in Fort Smith and still in the mood to shop, I visited ANOTHER antique store. This time I hit pay dirt. Well, sort of. I collect books and statues–and I found a bowl. I know, woo. But not just any bowl, a silver mid-century modern bowl with green enamel on the inside. Y’all, I kept thinking, I have absolutely no use for this. I don’t own a single mint or nut to put inside it. And yet every time I tried to walk away from this bowl, I couldn’t. I was simply spellbound by its shape, shine, and beauty. So I thought, What the hell, and bought it. After all, why must everything be useful or practical before I buy it? Isn’t it enough that something attracts me, that something mesmerizes me?

Yes, Marcus, yes it is.

One should be mesmerized now and then.

Now it’s 6:15, and I’m getting ready to have dinner with another friend, so I need to wrap this up. Yesterday I blogged about resting and slowing down, and I’m really trying to implement this by blogging sooner and not filling up every minute of every day. You know, I’m trying to breathe, to enjoy not only the main moments of my day but also the moments in between the main moments. Recently I made plans to have lunch with my aunt out of town and told her, “After we eat, I’ll mosey on home.” She said, “Moseying, that’s a lost art.” How true, how true. We rush around constantly, and yet there’s no hurry here in our universe. The sun takes an entire year to make its way around the sun, the sun and entire day to make its way across the heavens. All the more reason for us to pump the brakes, enjoy each other, and appreciate beauty wherever we can find it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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