On Internal Versus External Validation (Blog #996)

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Last night my throat started tickling, and today I woke up sick. Sinus troubles strike again. Talk about a bummer. I’ve felt like half a bag (but not a full bag) of ass all day. This being said, it’s still been a fun a productive Winter Solstice (the darkest day of the year). This morning I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holidays with her son and grandchildren. Then when I got home, despite my intention to blog and “get it over with” and in an effort to listen to my body, I took a nap. Then I went out to eat with my friends Aaron and Kate and Justin and Ashley (our waiter joined us for the above photo) to celebrate my upcoming 1,000th blog post in a row, which–God willing and the creek don’t rise–will happen on Christmas day.

And no, I didn’t plan that on March 31, 2017, when I made my first post. I’m good at math but not THAT good.

Once I read that any meditation you do consistently for 1,000 days will positively affect your subtle body, your subtle body consisting of your chakras. And whereas I don’t know if this is true (and if it is true it’d be difficult to prove because the changes would be subtle), I do know that almost 1,000 days of blogging has transformed me for the better. This is something I could go on and on about (and have), but suffice it to say that not only has my writing improved (which was the original goal), but so has my relationship with myself (and therefore with others).

Along these lines, one thing my therapist and I have discussed is seeking internal validation versus external validation. With internal validation, you say, “Even if nobody else gets it or cares, I know who I am.” You say, “I’m a damn fine dance teacher and an excellent writer. I’m hot. I’m good in the sack.” Or whatever. You say, “I like myself–warts and all.” Conversely, with external validation, you look to others and their responses to tell you who you are. Depending on whether they praise you, criticize you, laugh at your jokes, or laugh at you, your ego either soars or flops. A look from a total stranger makes you or breaks you. You want everyone else’s approval, and you’ll do anything to get it.

Everyone else’s puppet, one day you’re up, the next day you’re down.

This is one of the biggest positive changes I’ve experienced since starting therapy and this blog–the shift from external validation (from being a people pleaser) to internal validation (to being a me pleaser). Not that it’s all about me, me, me (although, granted, I do have a blog with me in the title), but it is about listening to my internal guidance and the voice of my soul over the opinions of others. This includes the opinions of my family, my friends, my acquaintances, total strangers, pretty boys, and–yes–even my therapist. Of course, I try to listen to what others have to say. Hell, I pay my therapist for her opinions. But ultimately I’m the one who decides what’s best for me because this is my life and I’m the one responsible for it.

Likewise, I’m the one responsible for my happiness. Others are welcome to disagree with my viewpoints and philosophies, tell me I’m a rotten dancer or human being, and tell me to fuck off, Jack. And sure, I might be upset by these things. But give me some time–enough time to write a blog post–and I’ll be fine. Because nobody–but nobody–gets to tell ME how to feel about ME.

Nobody–but nobody–gets to tell YOU how to feel about YOU.

One both subtle and not-so-subtle change that’s occurred over the last 996 days is that more and more external EVENTS aren’t able to tell me how I feel about myself either. What I mean is that I used to feel a lot of pride and self-worth if I looked good, felt good, and had money. On the flip side, I’d feel a lot of shame and embarrassment if I looked not-so-good, felt like a bag of ass, and didn’t have money. When I was sick I’d feel less than, inferior to healthy people, to doctors. When I couldn’t pay for things, to people who could. And not that I don’t have these thoughts anymore, but having made a consistent effort to connect with my own good heart on a regular basis, I now have these thoughts in their proper perspective.

You know how you can hold your hands close to a lightbulb and create a large shadow on the wall? And you know how you can move your hands away from the lightbulb and the shadow will get smaller? This is what I mean by proper perspective. It’s not that the opinions of others, your own health and wellbeing, and your finances don’t make a difference. They do. No one is immune to criticism, it sucks, sucks, sucks to be sick, and groceries don’t buy themselves. Our challenges create shadows on the wall.

How big, however, is up to us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself a break.

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How to Navigate Relationships (Blog #995)

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This morning I woke up early to rifle through used books at a thrift store. And whereas I was super tired, I scored nineteen beautifully covered books (I’m using their covers for craft projects) for only a dollar a piece. Talk about a bargain. When I got home I set two books aside I decided to keep (one for me, one for a friend), then removed the covers from the other seventeen with a razor blade. Wouldn’t you know it? After all the work was done and I set the blade down, my left hand slipped off one of the books onto the blade and I cut my middle finger. Y’all, I started bleeding like a stuck pig. The worst part about it? I did the same thing yesterday to my ring finger.

“Did I never teach you how to use sharp objects?” my dad said.

“No,” I replied, holding up my Bandaid-covered hand. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yesterday I bought three pieces of costume jewelry for two dollars. When I got them home, however, I noticed they were all missing jewels. Tossing them away I thought, Fool me once. This afternoon I used glitter spray paint on a picture frame but didn’t let it dry long enough. Now there’s an indentation where my hand was. Next time, sweetheart, be patient, I told myself. Don’t jump the gun. My point being in all these situations–no matter how old you get, there’s always more to learn. Especially with any new endeavor or undertaking (and I may NEED an undertakER if I keep slicing myself open), there’s always room for improvement.

Knowing that we don’t–can’t–know everything should keep us humble.

One of the books I dismantled for its cover was Extraordinary Lives by American Express. That’s right, the credit card company. Anyway, best I could tell by thumbing through it, the book was a collection of inspirational stories paired with original artwork and well-laid-out quotes from the book’s various storytellers. And whereas I didn’t read any of the stories, I did cut out several of the quotes I thought were worth taking in. Things like, “You didn’t have arguments and problems and lawsuits with patients. You had relationships.” And, “You can’t have everything you want. You’re not going to get the other side to commit suicide.”

For me, the two quotes I just mentioned are tied together. That is, only if a relationship goes sour will you have (major, lawsuit-like) problems, and only if those problems get way out of hand will you want the other side to cease existing. Tonight I attended a Christmas party, and one my friends pointed out that relationships most always go sour when we ignore red flags. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of looking back and thinking, I knew Phil was a cheater all along. I knew Sally was a kleptomaniac. Fine China doesn’t just up and walk away on its own.

“Why do we ignore red flags,” my friend said? “Because we have an agenda with someone. Because we want something from them.”

Ugh. Is this the truth or what? I’ve ignored my intuition with overbearing friends because I wanted to be perceived as “nice.” I’ve ignored it with inappropriate clients because I wanted their money. I’ve ignored it with love interests because I didn’t want to be alone. But more and more I’d rather be “rude” (or rather perceived as rude), broke, and alone than spend time with someone who isn’t a good match for me. And let’s face it–if they’re not a match for me, I’m not a match for them, so I’m doing both of us a favor. Along these lines, my therapist says that when you’re honest with someone–like, this just isn’t working for me–you not only give them permission to be honest, but you also free up both of your time and attention for others who ARE a match for you.

At one point today I had someone preface something they were about to tell me by saying, “I know you won’t tell anybody.” And whereas I haven’t always zipped my lips when someone asked me to in the past, I’m getting better at it. Like, I’m NOT talking about it on the internet. Or at all. I mean, if someone confides in me, that means they TRUST me, and that’s huge. Because trust takes years to build up.

But only a moment to shatter.

To the party tonight I wore a bow tie that was recently gifted to my by my friend Lydia (who won it as a door prize at a dance we attended together) and a brass brooch in the shape of two flowers–mums. As in, MUM’S THE WORD. I didn’t plan this coincidence (being asked to keep a confidence / mum’s the word) when I picked out my outfit and accessories, it just happened. In psycho-spiritual speak, it was a synchronicity, an divinely orchestrated opportunity for me to really think about the quality of my relationships, what they’re built on (trust), and how I can work to maintain them (as Elaine on Seinfeld would say, lock box).

My therapist says “mum’s the word” is almost always a good idea in relationships–and not just with respect to keeping secrets. For example, my friends and I used to process a lot together, use each other as therapists. There’s nothing inherently wrong with doing this, but things can get pretty heavy pretty quick. This is why my therapist suggests zipping my lips or not processing so much with others. “Friends are for fun,” she says. “If it’s something deep and heavy, something you’d put on the THE LIST, talk to me about it. Aren’t you paying me to listen?” These are things I continue to work on–what to talk about, what not to talk about, how to navigate relationships. And whereas I don’t always get it right–with friends or with razor blades–I’m learning.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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Today’s Special (Blog #994)

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Tonight I’m blogging on my phone–old school, one letter at a time–because yesterday I installed (my friend Justin installed) a new battery in my laptop, and part of the installation process is to completely drain the battery and leave the device turned off for five hours. Well, the leaving it turned off part is happening now. And whereas I’d probably be okay to turn it back on to blog (I’m not sure exactly when it died because I left it running while I was gone this afternoon), I’d rather be safe than sorry. The way I see it, technologically “roughing it” now and then makes me all the more grateful for the days when I don’t have to.

Which, to be clear, is most of them.

This afternoon I did some thrift shopping for craft projects then ended up at my aunt’s house. Together we thumbed through some of her craft odds and ends, did a few handyman jobs, and ate a late lunch for me and an early dinner for her. Anyway, while we were at her kitchen table I got absolutely captivated by some of her holiday decorations– two small vases full of red glass rocks.

It’s weird how your memory works. As I was taking the above picture, I realized the vases and red rocks reminded me of a television show I used to watch as a child–Today’s Special, about a department store mannequin (Jeff) who comes to life after all the customers leave. Specifically, I recalled an episode–my favorite–in which Jeff and his friends get trapped in a dungeon and have to retrieve a magic potion (a red liquid in a glass jar) from a window ledge in order to escape.

Well, thank God for the miracle of the internet because earlier tonight I was able to find that specific episode–called “Adventure”–on YouTube and rewatch it for the first time in over thirty years. What a trip! And whereas I’d forgotten a few details, like the fact that there’s a mouse (a puppet) in the department store who always speaks in rhyme, most of the time I was like, Oh yeah, I remember that!

And I was spot-on about the red liquid in the glass jar.

The basic plot of the episode is that the magician who first turned Jeff into “a real boy” has been cursed and shrinks every time he sneezes. Enter the need for the magic potion in the dungeon (in a land far, far away). How are Jeff and his friends going to get there? They have a genie in a bottle, of course (you gotta rub him the right way). Anyway, the genie gets the rescue crew to the remote land, but, like all good heroes, they’re faced with a few challenges. They have to touch a giant lizard on its nose. They have to find the potion. Then in order to reach the potion from its perch, they have to work together.

As a child I remember being so scared of some of the details–the lizard, the dungeon, the shrinking magician. I thought, What if they don’t make it? As an adult, it was no big deal, no fear. Granted, I’d seen the show before and knew it ended well, but perhaps that’s the point. As we get older, wiser, we should realize that there are fewer and fewer things to be scared of. Because we’ve figured out it’s all going to be okay.

From a mythological standpoint, the episode offers a lot of symbolism. For example, the heroes have to touch (slay) a lizard (dragon). This means–sooner or later–we all have to face our fears. This sucks, but the good news is, it’s never as difficult as you think it is. When Jeff touches the lizard, it disappears. That’s the deal–you face your fears, they vanish. Then you think, What was all the fuss about?

Next our heroes get stuck in the dungeon, which represents our shadow or unconscious and means we’ve gotta go underground to find the good stuff, to become a whole person. Then there’s the whole working as a team to get the potion part, which means none of us get through life alone. We’re all in this together.

So don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Both as a child and anytime I’ve thought of Today’s Special since, I’ve assumed the show title was an incomplete sentence. I saw special as a noun. Like, today’s special is roast beef on rye, today’s special is chicken salad and potato chips. Now that I’m learning to appreciate the gift of life (and high speed technology) more and more, I think of the show title as a complete sentence. I see special as an adjective. Like, today IS special.

So often we think of our days as ordinary. We go thrift shopping. We see our family. We take these miracles for granted. And yet one day, like a laptop battery, we die. All of a sudden, what we wouldn’t give for one more ordinary day. One more special day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Any mundane thing–an elevator ride!–can be turned into something joyous.

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There Are Other Cards to Pull (Blog #993)

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

So we might as well quit trying to.

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

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

And a Village Inn.

Go team.

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

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

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

So that’s the card they pull.

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Door Is Shut Now (Blog #992)

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This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, my upper cervical care doctor who’s helping me “get my head on straight.” The idea being that when your atlas vertebrae, which supports your head, sits right, good health is most likely to follow. Conversely, when it doesn’t sit right, it can put pressure on your brainstem and cause all sorts of problems (because your brainstem and nervous system directly affect or influence almost everything in your body). All this to say that today my doctor determined (through the use of a handy dandy device that looks like Batman’s ray gun) that my nervous system was working fine on its own and, therefore, I didn’t need an adjustment this week.

Honestly, this was a little disappointing because I’ve had such good results with the last few adjustments. Plus, the last few days my head has hurt, my back has ached. But my doctor said, “That’s normal. Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s more like a wiggly line, full of ups and downs. Be patient. People normally hit the sweet spot around the two to four month mark. People think the adjustment is what heals them, but that’s not it–it’s your body. Give it time.”

“So just tough out the pain until my body decides to fix the problem?” I said.

“Yep,” he smiled. “That’s what you’ve been doing all this time anyway, right?”

I laughed. “Right.”

“Don’t be discouraged,” he said. “We’re fighting a long history of problems.”

Boy, did he say a mouthful or what? So often along the path of healing, in all its many forms, I’ve wanted instant results. Then, upon not getting them, I’ve gotten depressed, convinced that the universe in all its wonder doesn’t have an answer to my problem. Or worse, it doesn’t care. But the truth is the universe does care (a lot) and does have an answer. However, sometimes the answer we’re looking for doesn’t come fast precisely because of our long history of problems and, in many cases, because of our self-neglect. Think of it this way. The longer you go without cleaning your house, the longer it’s going to take to clean it. The more baggage you have, the longer it’s going to take to move somewhere.

This truth applies to your house, your body, your mind and emotions, and your relationships. At times I get frustrated with people in my life (who doesn’t?), but usually by the time my lid’s about to pop over something “big,” it’s only because I’ve let so many small things go without addressing them. Without addressing the relationship. Whenever this occurs, I remind myself to slow down, to breathe. I remind myself we’re ALL fighting a long history of problems. The last two days I’ve mentioned a YouTube commenter who read me the riot act for counting Rumba incorrectly (according to them), and this idea applies to people like him too. Like, I want him to straighten up and fly right, but–let’s get real–that’s probably not going to happen because he’s had an entire lifetime to become who he is.

Not that people can’t change. They can. But it takes time. And they don’t do it just because I (or you) want them to.

My therapist would add, “They have to really desire it. And they have to work their ass off.”

Which reminds me of a joke my aunt told me once. How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Only one, but the lightbulb has to really WANT to change.

I keep going back to this YouTube commenter not because it’s really a big deal to me, but because it represents things that are big deals. You know how we all have things we can’t get over. Like, I live with my parents, and they do things that drive me absolutely crazy. Things I can’t stand. Things I’ll probably miss when they’re gone (but not a minute sooner). And yes, I’m sure I do things that make them go bananas too. And then we all have THE BIG THINGS. The real dramas and traumas in our lives that really are difficult to let go of–a long history of problems–but that really NEED to be let go of. Because you can’t live your life collecting problems and baggage and expect to be happy.

What can you expect, Marcus?

Misery.

So I’ll say it again and again. It’s worth your time to clean things up.

In yesterday’s selfie I apparently left my bedroom door slightly open. Well, the damndest thing, earlier when I looked at the photo (I always look at yesterday’s post before I start today’s so I know what number I’m on), I thought, Crap, my door’s open, and immediately started out of my chair to close it. Even now when I look at the photo above (I’ve included it again for your convenience), I glance up at my actual door and am amazed that it’s shut. I think, Phew, it’s closed. But then I look at the picture again and think, Wait, it’s open. This is the power of an image, whether it’s a actual photo or a memory in your head. It’s seems real but it’s not.

What is real then?

Whatever’s right here, right now. For me, it’s a chair, a laptop, and a closed door. For you, maybe it’s an open door.

The problem with images, including memories, appearing real is that we get hung up on them. We tell our friends, “Some guy on YouTube said this shitty thing to me. My parents did this. My lover did that. The door is open.” A wise person will point out that everything is in the past and there’s no use wasting your present, vital life force keeping your past–your long history of problems–alive by holding on and looking backwards instead of forwards. “Look,” they’ll say, “the door is shut.”

“But it WAS open,” you’ll insist. “And this guy really did say something shitty. And these terrible things really did happen.”

“I know, sweetheart,” they’ll reply, “and the door is shut now.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is all right and okay.

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When a Pickpocket Meets a Saint (Blog #991)

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There’s an idea in self-help and spirituality that we repeat things over and over again until we get the point of them, until we learn the lesson. You know how some people, maybe you, always end up falling for the same kind of lovers. Emotionally unavailable assholes, let’s say. Or maybe you’re constantly being shit on at work–and it’s been like that for twenty years. One way of describing this situation is “same drama, different actors,” and I think it’s worth taking a look at. Because if you can’t step out of the hamster wheel of your life and analyze it archetypally (non-personally), chances are you’ll keep getting more of the same.

My chiropractor who works with emotions and the body and I talk about this a lot. I saw him today, and we worked through a recent situation in which my reaction was, “Fine, damn it, I’ll do it,” even though someone else really should have. Like, it was their responsibility. Well, this feeling of taking on more than I really should goes back a long way. When I was a child my mom was sick quite a bit. When I was a teenager my dad was in prison. Long story short, I had to grow up fast. Looking back, I can see I wasn’t very happy about it and didn’t know how to express my frustration. But with respect to the same-drama conversation, what’s important to note is that although all the stories I’ve mentioned tonight were different on the outside, they were the same for me on the inside.

Recently I’ve been taking the covers off old books in order to use them for art projects, and yesterday I noticed a line on the first page of a book (I can’t remember which one) that said, “‘Every morning,’ he said, ‘every morning it’s the same damn thing!'” This is what I’m talking about emotionally, repeating the same feelings, the same roles (the runt, the slave, the misunderstood one) day after day after day. This is where my therapist and my emotionally intelligent chiropractor have been invaluable. They’ve helped me spot UNPRODUCTIVE PATTERNS so that I can do something about them. Because that’s the deal–it’s really hard to see your own routine. Sometimes you’re just too close to your own life to get what’s really going on. But someone else can take one look and say, “Girl, you’re stuck in a hamster wheel.”

Having had the help of wise counselors for years now, it’s getting easier and easier for me to spot my own unproductive patterns. For example, I’ve learned that I’m chronically attracted to a certain type that’s fundamentally not good for me. So whenever I feel myself going down the rabbit hole again, I stop and say, “Hold it right there, Mister. Stop in the name of love. We know how this is going to end, and it’s not good.” Then I do something else (or someone else). Another thing I’ve found helpful is to note whenever I catch myself saying, “Well, if it were anybody else, I’d tell them to do this (dump him, run the other way, go to a doctor).” Then I drop all my excuses and take my own advice. Because that’s my inner wisdom talking, and it shouldn’t matter if it’s someone else, or me, or the President. A problem is a problem is a problem, and good advice is good advice is good advice.

This evening I went thrift shopping and bought a few hardback books for their covers. Well, the total was $5.56, but I only had $5.25 in my pocket. “I’ll be right back,” I told the girl behind the counter. “I just need to get my change from the car.” Well, I came back with 26 cents, which, as the girl quickly pointed out, was 5 cents short.

So back to my car I went.

For a moment I thought, She must think I’m really dumb. Then I thought about how I won all sorts of math awards in junior high and high school, and how maybe I should tell her about them. Like, I really do know how to add. I won the Math-A-Thon! I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Then I thought, You don’t have to explain yourself to a high school student who works at Goodwill, Marcus.

So I gave her the damn nickel, picked up my books, and left.

There’s a saying I think about a lot but have never shared on this blog. It goes, “When a pickpocket meets a saint, he sees only his pockets.” To me this means that we don’t perceive others and the world as THEY are, but as WE are. Like, I could be the nicest guy and a really good mathematician, and if some tween at Goodwill thinks I’m stupid, she thinks I’m stupid. Now, does she? We’d have to ask her. Chances are, unlike me, she’s forgotten the whole interaction. Or maybe she hasn’t. Maybe she’s fallen in love with me and is currently at home stalking my Facebook and being disappointed by the fact that I don’t date girls. My point being that–either way–her reactions have little to do with me and everything to do with her. Yesterday I mentioned that someone bitched me out on YouTube for (in their opinion) counting Rumba incorrectly, and–same thing. This unfortunate commenter didn’t see ME, he only saw some ignorant dance teacher from Arkansas. A figment of his imagination.

And yes, it hasn’t escaped me that my not being able to count has apparently become a theme. Same drama, different players.

You’re never as stuck as you think you are.

For me another takeaway of the pickpocket/saint saying is to TRY to see people neutrally. Tonight I looked at the girl at Goodwill and thought, I know nothing about who this person is or what her life is like, and I certainly don’t know what she’s thinking. So often we assume we know what’s going on in someone else’s life or head and end up separating from rather than connecting with them. But seeing someone neutrally opens a door for grace to walk through. Likewise, seeing yourself neutrally (archetypally, impersonally) opens a door for grace to walk through. Because when you unplug from your own drama, your own story about your life, you have the thought that perhaps things could be different. And they could. You’re never as stuck as you think you are. In life, there’s always space to rewrite your script.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perfection is ever-elusive.

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Let Me Have My World, I’ll Let You Have Yours (Blog #990)

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A few things–

1. On creating

Lately I’ve been working on a few creative projects, and today I finished one of them–a vintage Hollywood wallpaper magnet board. I made the board itself over a decade ago, but it’s been screwed to the back of a desk that’s been pushed up against a wall in my parents’ front room for I don’t know how long. Anyway, last week I took the board off the desk, two days ago I spray painted the wood for a frame, and today I attached the frame to the front of the board and fastened two hanging hooks to the back. And whereas I could tell you every little thing that went wrong with and what’s NOT perfect about the whole project, believe it or not, I won’t. Rather, I’m happy to say that for less than twenty dollars in supplies I have something that’s not only so much better than the industrial metal shelf I was using before, but is–I think–pretty cool.

As my therapist says, cheap thrills.

2. On perspective

Along the lines of cheap thrills, this evening I went shopping for a few craft items. One of the places I stopped was Target, and just after I looked at their furniture and was about to look at their picture frames, I noticed their wall clocks. Eyeing one in particular I thought, That is so beautiful. Well, not five minutes later I overheard a man ask his wife if she’d found a clock yet, and she said, “Hell no. All their clocks are ugly. I guess we’re gonna have to go back to Hobby Lobby.”

Now, I have no idea what KIND of clock this lady was looking for, where she was going to put it, or what her particular taste or style is. Nor, let’s be clear, do I care. I just think it’s interesting that what one person considers gorgeous another can find offensive. What’s the saying? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I also think it’s interesting that we all KNOW that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that everyone sees the world differently (according to their background, tastes, and predilections), and yet we spend so much time judging other people for not seeing the world like we do. Trying to convince them they should be more like us (because we’re so pleasant and fun to be around). I love peanut butter and eat it out of the jar, but recently someone said, “OH GROSS, THAT’S DISGUSTING!” UUUUHHHHH. Obviously in your world it is. In my world, it’s heaven.

My point: let me have my world, I’ll let you have yours.

Your world without Target clocks. Your world without peanut butter.

Your world without joy.

3. On interacting

This evening a total stranger commented on one of my ten-year-old YouTube videos. “Never, never, never count rumba 1,2,3 / 4,5,6!!!” he said. (The idea being that rumba, although it has six steps in a basic, is actually an eight-count dance and should be counted 1,2,3,4 / 5,6,7,8, where either the 2 and 4 or 4 and 8 are held beats.) These were his first, maybe his last words to me. Not a greeting or conversation starter–hi, hello, excuse me but I beg to differ–but rather a command with three exclamation points. As if he were my authority or dance boss. As if I weren’t another adult worthy of his respect.

Now, this online nonsense happens fairly often in my world. And whereas sometimes I let it go and sometimes I don’t and am rude in return (I’ll count rumba any damn way I want to), tonight I simply replied, “You’re obviously quite passionate about this, Stan. Please tell me more. In my experience teaching, I’ve found that some students prefer counting beats of music and some prefer counting steps or footfalls, which is why I count rumba two different ways in this video.”

Will he reply? Doubtful. Regardless of what he does, my point is that it’s important what I do. It’s important what you do. It’s vital that we ask ourselves, “How am I going to treat my fellow humans? Especially when I disagree with them, am I going to be rude and condescending (as if in this whole wide universe I know everything there is to know and therefore have the right to rub my superior opinions in your face), or am I going to be kind, compassionate, and humble?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to become who you were meant to be, it's absolutely necessary to shed your old skin. Sure it might be sad to say goodbye--to your old phone, to your old beliefs, anything that helped get you this far--but you've got to let go in order to make room for something new.

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The Game of Life (Blog #989)

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Phew. It’s two in the morning, and I’ve been going all day. This morning and afternoon I went antiquing/craft shopping, mostly hunting for inspiration. The last two days I’ve talked about mounting vintage brooches on old book covers, and I’ve gotten absolutely obsessed with the idea that you can use books for something other than reading. Talk about a novel idea. (Get it, novel?) Granted, I’ve used books for decoration before, but I’ve never cut them up strictly for parts until yesterday. This afternoon at a thrift store I rifled through a stack of books and judged them solely by their covers. I can’t tell you how good it felt.

No reading required.

Walking away from the thrift store with the above stack of pretty books, my mind raced with creative options. I thought, I could do this, I could do that. Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming, somewhat like staring at the menu at The Cheesecake Factory. Seriously, too many options! But this is life. Whether we’re crafting, writing, or picking out what to eat for dinner, we could go in a thousand directions. And whereas I tend to take decision-making rather seriously (like, What if I don’t choose the right thing?), I really think it’s meant to be more playful than profound. I mean, yes, even seemingly trivial choices have consequences. But if your following you heart, being kind, and having fun, I’m not sure you can go wrong.

Looking back at nearly a thousand days of blogging, I KNOW I haven’t always said or done the “right” or ideal thing. But here’s something I absolutely know to true–it’s better to create imperfectly than to not create at all.

This evening I babysat two boys, and we (well, me and one of the boys) played Fort Smith Opoly, our town’s nod to the famous (or is it infamous?) Monopoly board game. Y’all, I thought we’d be done super-quick, but the game went on for over two hours. We didn’t even get to finish; the boys had to go to bed. That being said, when we did wrap up I was kicking my opponent’s little rear end. He had two thousand dollars, and I had seven.

But don’t go asking me for a loan for your creative projects. You can’t spend Fort Smith Opoly money at Hobby Lobby.

It’s fake.

Recently I heard Caroline Myss say something like, “Think of all the wonderful things that have happened in your life–you didn’t plan any of them. Now think all the disasters in your life–you planned all of them.” Oh my gosh, y’all, I laughed out loud. How true. Every mentor or true-blue friend I’ve ever has been someone who just “showed up.” You know, randomly. Conversely, most every thorn in my flesh has been someone I saw and thought, I really need to get to know them. The idea being that it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to trust our own wisdom a little less and the wisdom of the gods a little more.

The idea being that they’re on our side and want good things for us.

For me what’s difficult about trusting heaven is that I’m not in control. Now, I KNOW I’m not in control, but one of the reasons I like to obsess over every little detail of creative projects is because it makes me FEEL like I am. This is all an illusion. (Give it up, Nancy.) I can brag about winning Fort Smith Opoly tonight, but if we’d ended the game thirty minutes earlier I wouldn’t have had even a hundred dollars because THREE times I rolled the dice and had to pay my little friend $2,000 when I landed on Downtown Fort Smith, which he owned and had developed to the enth degree. My point being that both my bad fortune and my good fortune were largely out of my hands, left to the roll of the dice. Left up to heaven. (Pause.) More and more I’m seeing whatever heaven sends my way as more than enough, better than I could plan for. So long as I get to play the game (of Fort Smith Opoly, of life), I’m content. So long as I get to create, I’m happy.

This dog, however, is apparently only happy when he’s hoarding five-hundred-dollar bills.

Don’t bother telling him they’re not real.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s never too late to be your own friend.

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On Upcycling Your Past (Blog #988)

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Last weekend I got the idea to start a magnet board project, and yesterday I got the idea to start a picture frame project. And whereas a lot of my inspirations never come to fruition (this is the nature of the beast), today I started working on both of these ideas. Although I guess I technically started earlier in the week when I went to Lowe’s to buy supplies–spray paint, mounting hooks, etc.–for the magnet board. Or maybe I started before that when I had the notion to create. Hell, this probably all goes back to that fateful morning in 1979 when my parents skipped church to conceive me. Who knows when anything starts or stops?

But I digress.

For the magnet board I first took the pieces of wood framing I already had and cut them to the proper size. Having gone back and forth about whether to frame the board on the front (where it would look pretty and hold down the decorative paper on the board) or on the back (where it would allow more space for magnets and provide an easy way to hang the whole thing on the wall), I finally decided on the front. This is the deal with decisions. You worry and worry and then–poof!–you make a decision. Like an adult. Anyway, then I put one coat of spray paint on the boards and ironed the decorative paper as flat as possible while they dried. Then I put on a second coat of spray paint and turned my attention to the picture frame project I talked so much about yesterday.

As my plan was to hunt down a used book with an appealing cover for the mounting board/backdrop for my picture frame, I changed out of my paint clothes, switched shoes, and got ready to go. But just as I was leaving the house I decided to rifle through a box of religious books my mom had set aside for our upcoming spring garage sale. Well, I hit pay dirt. (Apparently Christians know how to make pretty books.) I found beautiful covers in blue, purple, black, and gold. And whereas I decided on blue for this current project, my mind went wild with possibilities for other projects. I even started showing my parents–like, Look at this, look at this. Well, when I showed my dad a golden cover with golden etching next to my golden frame and golden brooch (the object I’ve been thinking about displaying inside the frame), he said, “That’s TOO MUCH gold.”

“Not if I painted the frame purple,” I said.

He just looked at my mom and shook his head. “There’s something wrong with that kid.”

“You’re witnessing creativity in action,” I said.

As I sit here now, neither my magnet board nor picture frame project is complete. For the magnet board, the paint is still drying. Some things just take time. (No matter how much I wish things were complete, I can’t change the laws of spray paint.) And whereas for the picture frame project I got the book cover cut and mounted and a hanger attached to the back, I still haven’t decided WHAT to put in the frame. I love the idea of having my golden leaf brooch on display, but I also like the idea of wearing it and therefore don’t want to hot glue it down. Alas, I don’t know WHAT I’m going to do. The upside to being undecided? Anything could happen. The possibilities are endless.

With respect to everyday living, the lesson here is that we can focus on (put inside the frame of our attention) anything we want. When we wake up each day we can say, “Am I going to whine, bitch, and complain about the world I see? Or am I going to be grateful that I’ve been given one more day to live here and–here’s an idea–do something about it?”

While cutting the blue book cover down to size, the part of me that loves books and believes they’re meant to be read died a little. Tossing the rest of the (religious!) book in the trash, I felt like a sinner. Still, I remember what it felt like to be under the thumb of religion, and it wasn’t good. So it also felt refreshing to take something heavy and turn it into something light, to upcycle a piece of my past. With this is mind, I wrote the name of the book and its author on the back (er, inside) of the book cover to remind myself that as one thing–a book, an idea, a way of being–dies, it makes room for something else to be born.

Nothing is ever wasted.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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On How to Frame Your Past (Blog #987)

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This afternoon I went antique shopping for several hours. And whereas I didn’t buy much, just one thing, I did have fun looking. As I said yesterday, the world is full of pretty objects. Okay, okay, enough suspense. I’ll tell you what I bought. My solitary purchase was a small golden frame for the bargain price of a dollar.

“One dollar even,” the lady said.

Y’all, even as I was walking the frame to the car, I had little idea what I was going to do with it. I thought, Maybe I can add it to my magnet board, use it to accentuate part of my collection. Then as the day went on I thought, Or I could use it as God intended and put a photo in it. Well, when I got the frame home I realized it didn’t have glass in it. So then I thought I could either buy a piece of glass for it or just use it as-is to frame a three-dimensional object. Either way, I thought, before I do anything else I’ve got to get this warped cardboard off the back and take an iron too it. So that’s what I did. And whereas I thought, I’m tearing this thing apart, I also thought, It’s only a dollar.

While ironing the cardboard backing, I thought that I COULD paint the golden frame purple. Then I set that thought aside to search through my closets in hopes of finding a picture, toy, or statue to fit inside the frame. Y’all, I tried everything–a plastic dinosaur, pictures I’ve torn out of magazines, a small statue of Jesus. Alas, nothing worked and I quickly ran out of options. This is the one of the downsides to not owning much; it limits your creative options. Every hoarder thinks, I may need that one day, and every minimalist sooner or later thinks, Crap, I could have used that. But if you don’t have it, you don’t have it.

At which point you’re forced to be more creative.

Eventually I started toying around with the frame and a brooch I bought yesterday–a golden leaf. First I put the brooch inside the frame on the warped (and worn) cardboard, then I replaced the cardboard with a book whose cover (which is a delightful shade of blue) I absolutely love.

Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

Because I didn’t and don’t want to butcher my book for this project, I started going through the books my family has set aside for an upcoming yard sale. And whereas I couldn’t find any of them that were as pretty in terms of color or texture as my blue book, I did find some interesting options. For example, the text on the front of a black John le Carre book just happened to be written in gold, so all the elements–the text, the brooch, the frame–tied together nicely.

Completely different than the blue-book option.

Lastly I tried ANOTHER blue book (I have a lot of blue books), a darker, non-canvas one. And whereas I didn’t and don’t like it as much, I’m including it here to 1) illustrate the creative process, 2) demonstrate that all blues are not created equal, 3) present an option with the leaf turned at a different angle, and 4) show that details make a difference.

Ultimately, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my one-dollar frame. Chances are I’ll hit up a used book store to continue to explore cheap backdrop options. Then I’ll play around with temporary versus permanent ways to mount my brooch or, if I decide I’d rather wear it, mount something else inside the frame instead. Then I’ll figure out how to hang the whole thing on the wall. Or on the ceiling. Hell, I may put it in the bathroom above the toilet paper holder. Wouldn’t that be something?

My point: this could go down a number of ways.

Often I talk about the importance of perspective, and what I mean is that to a large extent the joy or suffering you experience is based on how you see things. For example, I’ve had a lot of shitty things happen over the years (who hasn’t?), and they used to cause me a lot of pain–because I was embarrassed by them, because I was afraid I couldn’t handle myself, because I thought life wasn’t fair. In short, I SAW myself as a victim, a pawn in the game of life, someone without any power. And whereas all these perspectives are true on one level, on another they simply aren’t. That is, the more I’ve explored my depths and connected with my soul, I’ve come to see that every challenge and shitty circumstance has been absolutely necessary. They’ve made me stronger. They’ve pushed me to learn. They’ve taught me endurance, patience, and compassion.

Simply put, I used to think all those horrible things had taken my life from me. Now I see they actually gave it to me.

For me self-help books and spiritual teachers have been immensely valuable in providing perspective. They’ve taught me I’m not alone in my experiences or thoughts or emotions about them. Likewise, my therapist has also been immensely valuable. Whenever I’m hard on myself or another, she offers a more compassionate viewpoint. Sometimes we work a topic over and over again until it feels right, until there’s peace. This is the deal with your life, your past. You think it’s set in stone, and maybe the facts are. (Whatever shitty things happened to you, I’m sorry. All the therapy, drugs, and gurus in the world can’t change it. I wish they could.) But like my dollar-frame project tonight, your perspective about your past and what it means is WAY flexible. That is, you can set it against a dark background (my life has been torn apart), or a light one (my life is coming together).

This is my advice: take the facts of your life and turn them upside down, twist them this way and that until they look right, until you have them just so. Frame your past in the best way possible. Don’t lie to yourself about what happened. Instead, get brutally honest. Cry and scream. Then move on. Forgive. Tell yourself, Whatever happened was absolutely necessary. Yes, it was difficult, but it made me the glorious being I am today. In fact, I couldn’t have planned things better myself.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

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