On the Enchanted Life (Blog #1046)

Yesterday I finished listening to the audio version of Pam Muñoz Ryan’s juvenile fiction novel Echo. My friend Sydnie recommended it (“The audiobook is awesome because it includes the music relevant to each character,” she said), and it’s nothing short of glorious, full of magic and heart. In short, it’s about an enchanted harmonica that mysteriously comes into the the lives of several different characters not only to change their lives for the better, but also to bring them together across time and space. Brimming with hope, the book encourages us that, “Your fate is not yet sealed. Even in the darkest night, a star will shine, a bell will chime, a path will be revealed.”

I’ve been thinking about this today, the way that all is never lost, the way that help always shows up when we most need it. I’ve also been thinking about how so often help doesn’t announce itself. In Echo, each of the main characters is intrigued by the enchanted harmonica but doesn’t realize what power it would bring into their life. Likewise, six years ago when I first arrived at my therapist’s office there wasn’t a sign on her door that said, “Your life is about to be turned upside down.” And yet it was.

I suppose there are two ways of viewing your life. One, as if it’s not enchanted. Two, as if it is. Seeing your life as not enchanted, each day is the same, random. A beautiful person or object comes into your life, and you think, Isn’t that nice? At best, you occasionally use the word coincidence. Seeing your life as enchanted, however, each day is unique, full of possibility and wonder. You think, Nothing or no one comes to me by accident. You use words like synchronicity, fate, destiny, and meant to be.

Of course, I advocate the enchanted life. Not that I can prove this is the way the universe works, but I can certainly prove that believing it works this way is more fun. Last night I rearranged some artwork on my walls and in the process realized that one of my paintings was originally framed this very week in 1968, twelve and a half years before I was even born. Several years ago I lived in a hundred year old house that was an absolute godsend for me, a quiet home after I’d left one of turbulence, a space space where I could heal my broken heart. I completely believe that like the harmonica in Echo, The Big House came to me because, at least for a time, I needed it. Maybe because we needed each other. My point being that how do I know my painting from 1968 hasn’t come to me for the same reason? A drawing of a weeping willow, it continues to remind me to cry, to flow with life rather than stiffen against it, and to remain rooted.

Along these lines, my framed print of Diogenes reminds me to continuously search for truth, Diogenes being famous for his quest to find “one honest man.” And whereas I could go on and on about the search for truth and honesty, here’s what I’ve come to believe, what I think this drawing from 1946 came to teach me. You can spend the rest of your life looking for one honest man, or you can spend the rest of your life trying to be one. That’s the deal. Diogenes wasn’t looking for someone else. He was looking for himself.

He was it.

Years ago my swing dancing friend Robin sent me a framed poster of Lindy Hop legend Frankie Manning that’s signed by several Lindy Hop “gods and goddesses.” Along with it, she included a note reminding me how important I am, both as a person and a member of the dance community. For me, the poster and the note have become one. Regardless of which I look at, I inevitably feel better. Because I think, If even for a moment, I made a difference. If even for a moment, someone noticed. This is the power that one kind act, one thoughtful note can have. Its effect can last for years, a lifetime.

Talk about magic. Talk about enchanting.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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On Rearranging Yourself (Blog #1045)

I spent most of today working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. And whereas I didn’t finish, I did make good progress. Indeed, this afternoon I worked for several hours (at which point I took the picture below), and this evening I worked for a couple more. Ugh. When I get in puzzle-solving mode I lose all track of time. I skip meals, put off going to the bathroom, and delay blogging. I think, Just one more piece. Just one more section. Last year I completed a different 1,000 piece puzzle only to realize it was missing a piece. (So it was really a 999 piece puzzle.) Anyway, now whenever I can’t find a piece I convince myself it doesn’t exist. Then when I finally find it after looking “just one more time,” it’s the sweetest relief.

Earlier this week I bought a painting for four dollars (and a frame for the painting for eight), so this evening I set out to rearrange my “art wall” in order to accommodate it. And whereas I thought this would be a simple task, alas, it was not. Y’all, I spent almost two hours playing Tetris with my framed art, photos, and brooches, the main problem being that once I put the new painting above my bed I didn’t have a good spot for the old art that used to be there. FINALLY, after much frustration and upset, I decided to put the old art in my bathroom (above the toilet). After that, things were relatively simple. Well wait. Now that I think about it, they weren’t. Before it was all said and done, I hung or rehung a total of eleven framed pieces (two in my bathroom, nine in my bedroom).

Only four of the pieces on my “art wall” are in the same location they used to be.

Let’s hear it for trying new things.

I’ve said before that when you change one thing you change everything (and this is why we often avoid change), and this is what I mean. Everything’s connected. You buy one new painting, and it inevitably pushes your other ones around. Likewise, you get one new belief (like, I’m worthy of being treated well), and it can seriously upset your applecart. I mean, it sounds good to say that you deserve to be respected, but if you really believe that, what are you gonna do the next time someone (including you) disrespects you? Because this is where the rubber meets the road, where you have to speak up for yourself, have a hard conversation, or, if necessary, walk away.

Again, this is why most of us don’t buy new pieces of art, buy new pieces of art being a euphemism for change our beliefs. It’s not that we don’t like the idea of something new, fresh, and beautiful (I’m patient, I’m kind, I stand up for myself), it’s just that the rearranging we have to do in order to accommodate something new, fresh, and beautiful is seriously a lot of effort and often involves fallout.

Take money, for instance. Most anyone, myself included, would tell you that they’d LOVE to have more money. And yet most of us aren’t willing to do what it takes to have it. And no, I’m not just talking about getting a side-hustle. I’m talking about really getting honest about your relationship with money. For me this has looked and continues to look like digging into where, when, and how my beliefs about money started, realizing that despite the fact that I give myself a lot of crap about not being more “successful” in terms of worldly wealth, most if not all of the money concepts I have, for better or for worse, were handed down to me (by family, church, school, and society).

In terms of money, for decades I’ve had dreams about a particular person that I’ve always considered wealthy and successful. And whereas for years this person appeared in my dreams as far off or unapproachable, since starting therapy and unpacking my issues around money with my therapist, that’s changed. For instance, I’ve had dreams in which this person’s house has been for sale or I’ve been moving into their house, one possible interpretation being that their lifestyle is AVAILABLE to me. Last night I dreamed that, instead of me looking up to this person, THEY were looking up to me, literally serving me.

Keep working on the puzzle that is you.

As I see it, these dreams and especially last night’s dream mean that my beliefs about money are changing from “I’m intimidated” to “I”m in charge.” Better said, since this dream-person is just a part of my consciousness (and completely separate from the actual person), these dreams mean that my relationship with myself is changing. Earlier this evening I meditated on money (and relationships and all the things), and I realized that I’m accustomed to loss. Not that I’m used to always losing things or having people leave me, but it’s a FAMILIAR feeling. You might say it’s a comfortable one, albeit not a healthy or accurate one. All this to say that this is The Hard Work, the willingness to take an honest look at the beliefs that run your life and, if needed, change them by changing yourself. By rearranging yourself. This, of course, means carrying yourself differently, more confidently, and this is a scary and uncomfortable thing to do. Do it anyway. Keep working on the puzzle that is you until all your pieces fit.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Transformation doesn’t have a drive thru window. It takes time to be born again.

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On Tuition (Blog #1044)

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Over a week ago my parents’ garage door broke. Well, a gear inside the motor broke. Alas, I found out the manufacturer doesn’t make or sell replacement parts for their thirty-year-old motors. (Who knows why?) Thankfully, I found someone on eBay who does, so I ordered a new gear last Friday. And whereas I wasn’t absolutely sure that it would work, I decided when it arrived in the mail this afternoon that it would. Yippee. Sometimes God throws you a bone.

The way our specific garage door motor is set up is 1) there’s a motor that turns a crank, 2) that crank turns a big gear, 3) that big bear turns a small gear, and 4) that small gear moves the chain (and the chain moves the actual garage door). Well, when I got to looking, the only hangup with the replacement gear (the black one below) was that the second, smaller gear “sat” a little low, not quite in line with the chain. So I put a washer underneath it. Voila!

I wish I could tell you this was the only problem I had to solve this afternoon.

The next hangup I encountered was that because the motor and gears sit almost flush with the ceiling and are protected by a metal covering (not pictured), I had to run the chain through the gears BEFORE mounting the motor to the ceiling. But because the chain was connected to a bolt (that connects to a turnbuckle that keeps the chain tight) and the bolt wouldn’t fit through a plastic chain “holder” (pictured above, at top), I first had to remove the bolt by taking off the last chain link. Then, in an effort to tighten the chain and make sure it wasn’t too far this way or that way (because the position of the chain indirectly affects whether or not the garage door motor “thinks” the garage door is up or down), I broke the turnbuckle.

“Shit,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Of course, Lowe’s didn’t have the turnbuckle I needed, so I bought one that I thought I could make work. This involved drilling a hole in it so I could use a screw to connect it to the piece of hardware that actually carries or moves the garage door.

After I got the turnbuckle problem figured out, I mounted the motor to the ceiling and went to tighten the chain, which I first added the previously removed link to, holding it together with zip ties. This is when I realized the new turnbuckle’s bolts were SHORTER than the old turnbuckle’s bolts, so I had to ADD LENGTH by inserting a connecting link, which I stole from my bedroom where I was using it to hang a swag lamp.

The lesson: everything has more than one use. The other lesson: when problem-solving, you gotta think creatively.

THANKFULLY, all this rigging paid off. After I tightened the chain and reconnected all the electrical wires, everything worked fine. A little noisier than before, but fine. Is our garage door a little janky? Sure. But a brand new one would have cost $200-$350, and for the price of $24 ($21 for the gear and $3 for the turnbuckle), we’ve got something that works.

Later when my dad thanked me, I said, “You’re welcome. And I don’t mind saying it was a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure it was,” he said. And then, because he’s rarely outdone, he added, “But did you learn something?”

Of course, I had. Two weeks ago I had almost zero idea about how garage doors work, other than the fact that when you push a button they go up or down. But now after two solid afternoons getting my hands dirty in the garage, I understand most of the mechanics and some of the electronics. So I’m richer in experience, and my parents are richer in dollars.

As my Uncle Monty used to say, we’re all winners here.

Hey fella, why the long face?

This evening I went out to eat with my friend Kim and afterwards helped her feed her horses. Well, before we wrapped up she told me a story about a mutual friend of ours, a guy who’s married to a woman who was born in another country. As the story goes, the man and his wife were visiting her native land and took a taxi to get back to their hotel. Alas, the taxi driver was less than scrupulous and took the long route in hopes of procuring a higher fare.

“I’m not paying him extra,” the man told his wife when he realized they were being swindled.

“Yes, you will,” his wife replied. “You’ll pay the man and tell him this word.”

So at the end of the ride the man handed the taxi driver the higher fare and said the word his wife had told him to, at which point the taxi driver started shoving the man’s money back to him.

“What was the word?” I asked Kim.

“Tuition,” she said. “Apparently in the wife’s culture when someone teaches you a lesson, you owe them money for tuition. So when the man said ‘tuition’ to the taxi driver he was saying, ‘I owe you because you’ve taught me that you’re a thief. You’ve taught me not to trust you.'”

Isn’t this fabulous? Also, wouldn’t we all be broke if we paid tuition to all the people in our lives who taught us not to trust them? I know I would. I can’t tell you the number of valuable lessons I’ve learned through my bad relationships, my difficult encounters with friends, family, and clients. Probably more than through my good ones. More and more, I’m grateful for these lessons and the people who taught them to me. Recently I literally walked away from a salesman who was full of shit, and a friend of mine marveled at my bravery. But the only reason I could do it was because I’ve dated master bullshitters, been backed into dozens of corners by slick salesmen and non-stop talkers. My point being that every triumph I’ve had has come at a high price. Therapy alone has cost me THOUSANDS of dollars. (And yes, it’s been worth it. I’ve been worth it.) This is the deal on planet earth. Whether you’re dealing with people or garage doors, if you want to learn something new you’ve got to get your hands dirty. You’ve got to put in the time. You’ve got to–wait for it–pony up the dough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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What Goes Down Must Come Up (Blog #1043)

Last night I worked backstage for the national tour of Finding Neverland until one in the morning, rolling up Marley floor, wrapping up in padded blankets the windows Peter Pan flies, and pushing heavy crates onto semis. And whereas I had a fabulous time (the theater is magic), I could barely think straight when it was all over. Indeed, it was all I could do to get myself home, brush my teeth, and crawl into bed. Thankfully, I had most of today to rest. Alas, despite the fact that I slept until one this afternoon and took a cat nap this evening, I’m still tired. What the hell?

Clearly my body is not a fan of manual labor.

For whatever reason, I’ve spent most the day in a sour mood. Perhaps this is because yesterday was simply marvelous and, according to physics, what goes up must come down. (I’ll explain.) In addition to seeing the “backstage” friends I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I also saw my “onstage” friend Kirk, who plays Charles Frohman (the man who first produced Peter Pan) and Captain Hook in Finding Neverland. Not only did I get to chat and catch up with Kirk (albeit while he was changing clothes and combing his hair before the show), but I also got to see him perform. From row five, center. Talk about magic. It’s one thing to see a stunning musical, and it’s quite another to see your friend killing it in that musical.

One of my favorite lines last night was when Kirk (as Frohman) said, “I don’t have a child inside me. I have an ulcer.” What adult hasn’t felt this way? We’re encouraged to be lighthearted, to enjoy our lives, but we think, I can’t. I’m too busy. I have bills to pay. I’ll be happy later. My back hurts now. We meet a perpetually joyful person and are automatically suspicious. We actually say, “What are YOU smiling about?” As if smiling weren’t the most natural thing in the world.

Getting back to my sour mood today, I suppose we all experience a certain amount of let down after a glorious time. In the show last night the four young boys who inspired the creation of Peter Pan spent their days playing in the park, and at night the youngest would jump up and down on his bed and say, “I don’t want to go to sleep.” Likewise, as adults we go on vacation, watch a musical, or see an old friend, and think, I don’t want this party to end. And yet end it does. No party lasts for ever. One moment we’re flying high, and the next we’re back on the ground, at home doing the dishes. We think, Well THIS sucks.

Something I often tell people is that I almost always listen to the same instrumental music whenever I write this blog. And whereas the music itself isn’t important, what is important is that I’ve created a ritual around writing. Every night I pour a cup of tea, sit down in my chair, press play, and start typing, my goal being to process the day, figure things out, and walk away feeling better (or at least with more self-acceptance, compassion, and understanding). Well, the ritual works. I can be in the worst mood, turn my instrumental music on, and even without writing a word begin to feel better. Tonight, for instance, I was so frustrated.

But then the music started playing, and I found myself smiling.

It’s weird how we can get loyal to our bad moods. Currently I’m feeling lighter than I have all day, and yet there’s a part of me that wants to recount my grievances. And this hurts, and that hurts, and–worst of all–the party is over. Ugh. What goes up must come down. And yet more and more I believe the reverse is also true. What goes down must come up. That is, no matter how tired you are, at some point you find rest. No matter how sick you are, at some point you find healing (even if this is in death). No matter how ho-hum your mood, at some point you find yourself smiling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The truth doesn’t suck.

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On Interesting People (Blog #1042)

Phew. I woke up at six this morning and have been functioning ever since, working backstage for the national tour of the musical Finding Neverland. And whereas for weeks I’ve been fearful that my chronic sinus problems would rear their ugly head (in my head) and make my day miserable, I’ve felt fine. Almost human. Indeed, I’ve helped unload three semis, pushed props around, laid down Marley floor, made beds, and sanitized glasses and haven’t once thought, God, I feel terrible. Rather, except one time while crawling around on my knees, I’ve been grateful for this opportunity. Sure, it’s grunt work, but I love the magic of the theater and seeing how it all works.

Speaking of magic, here’s something. Over a year ago I got to work backstage for ten days for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. Well, this tour of Finding Neverland is being put on by the same production company, so this morning I was greeted by hugs and several familiar faces, friends whose lives and travels I’ve been following on social media. I can’t tell you what a treat this was, to show up to work and be welcomed, to not be a stranger. Of course, we’re all strangers at some point, in some situation. And so we meet each other. We say, “Hi, my name is (insert your name here). What’s your name?”

If we’re lucky, a conversation begins. And talk about magic, a good conversation can take you anywhere.

In my experience with good conversation, the key is to remain curious. Ask a lot of questions. So often we judge people by the clothes they wear or the job they’re currently doing and forget that we’re only seeing a piece of them, not the whole puzzle, the whole mystery. One of the gentlemen I worked with this morning was, by trade, a chef. Indeed, if you live in Fort Smith, you’ve probably eaten one of his recipes, since before he moved away he consulted with many of our local restaurants. Another worker said, “If you’re a chef, what are you doing here?”

“Just making some extra money while I’m visiting my family,” he said.

I don’t know. I think people are fascinating. What’s more, I think they’re willing to tell you almost anything if they sense you really want to listen. One man I just met today told several of us at lunch about his mentor who died many years ago in a freak accident. “It really affected me,” he said. “He taught me everything I know.” Heart wrenching.

Something I’ve been thinking about today is just how much your attitude affects your experience. For example, when you’re sitting with a group of strangers, a fearful or shy attitude will keep you isolated. But a curious attitude, a friendly attitude, will connect you to others, others who are fundamentally the same as you. People with hopes and dreams, griefs and tragedies not unlike yours. People who want to be loved, accepted, and appreciated exactly as they are, just like you do.

This is true no matter what someone looks like, no matter where they’re from.

Getting back to the idea of attitude, at one point today a forklift driver whose sole responsibility was to unstack large boxes over and over again told me he was bored. “It’s just the same thing. Up and down, up and down.” I totally get this. For years I worked as a wedding photographer’s assistant and was constantly surrounded by magic, the most important day of the wedding couple’s life. However, for me it was just another day at work, one more batch of spinach dip. Looking back, I can see that it was my attitude, my perception, that kept me from enjoying the uniqueness of each event. It’s not that the magic wasn’t there. I just couldn’t see it.

There’s an idea that I subscribe to that says that BORING people are BORED and INTERESTING people are INTERESTED. Again, this goes back to how curious you are about other people and your surroundings, what your attitude is. The truth is that, on one hand, every day is the same thing over and over again. We wake up, we go to bed. Up and down, up and down, until we die. So yes, one could get bored pretty easily. On the other hand, every day is new. For example, although I may work backstage at another show, I will never again work backstage with the same people, the same constellation of precious faces I worked with today. Seen from this perspective and with this attitude, each person, each day, and each moment we encounter becomes a gift, a gift worthy of our reverence and interest.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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On Receiving a Grace (Blog #1041)

It’s ten in the evening. Tomorrow morning I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn for work, which will last until well after midnight. So in an effort to blog and get to bed earlier than normal, I sat down thirty minutes ago to start writing. Alas, my internet hotspot is dragging ass, and I just got tonight’s selfie uploaded. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is. On the one night I need faster upload speeds! Oh well. Once again I’m encouraged to be patient, to accept this moment as it is. Plus, it’s not like I’m going to get a ton of sleep anyway. You know how it is when you’re revved up about something.

I’ve gotta get some sleep tonight, you tell yourself. So you don’t get any at all.

Currently I’m thinking about not trying so hard. This afternoon I bought a painting (“I think it’s a high school art project,” the lady at the vintage store said) for four dollars. Then, so I’d have something to put it in, I bought an old frame at a consignment store for eight. And whereas the frame was a little smaller than the painting, I thought, No big deal, I can trim the painting down. Since the frame was a bit beat up, I imagined this whole project, glueing it back together, spray painting it black or gold. But then I showed it to a friend of mine, and they said, “I don’t think you need to paint it all at. It matches the painting perfectly.”

All this to say that this evening after I shored up the frame with a few nails, trimmed the painting, and took a look at everything, I decided my friend was right. It looks super. And whereas I COULD fill in some cracks and do some touch-up painting on the frame, I’m going to try not to.

Why, Marcus?

Because all too often I have a tendency to overcomplicate things. Or just to complicate things. Like, this isn’t a tough project, Marcus. Clean the frame up, wipe the glass down, put the painting in, and hang the damn thing on the wall already. What’s the use in turning an hour-long task into a five-hour one?

I guess I’m USED to things being complicated or difficult. For decades I’ve read hundreds of books and tried dozens of methods and modalities all in an effort to heal mentally, emotionally, and physically. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way I got it in my head that no matter WHAT you try, it’s not going to work. But also that you HAVE to keep trying. It’s the whole story of Prometheus breaking his back rolling a boulder up the mountain. Sure, he makes it to the top, but the boulder just rolls back down to the bottom. Back to the drawing board, Prometheus.

Of course, this is frustrating and depressing.

Complicated.

Fortunately, I’m learning that things don’t have to be complicated. For example, thanks to upper cervical care, recently my body and I have made great strides with respect to headaches. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I used to dread headaches the way I dread sinus infections. Now I’m like, Oh, yeah, I remember when I used to get those. My point being that the treatment itself is simple, easy. This reminds me of something my Reiki teacher often says–“Doing the right thing IS simple. Knowing what’s the right thing to do, however, is another matter.”

Amen.

A word that’s been coming to mind lately is receive. That is, after we run around and try everything under the sun TRYING to heal, if and when we do have the blessing to find something that WORKS, it behooves us to RECEIVE it. To, rather than pushing it away because we’re used to everything being complicated, fully embrace it with simple gratitude and humility. Gratitude because your forty years in the desert is drawing to close. The Promised Land is near. Humility because no matter how much personal effort you put toward healing, you ultimately can’t make it come your way. This is why healing is always a grace, a grace that’s to be accepted with heads bowed, eyes closed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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On Lies and the Simple Truth (Blog #1040)

It’s midnight. For all that’s happened today and for all that I’ve been thinking about, I can’t for the life of me think of what to say. (There. That’s two sentences. Good job, Marcus.) Some days it’s easier to write than others. Okay, here we go. This morning I woke up feeling kind of junky, but now I think I feel better. Do other other people do this, go back and forth about whether or not they feel well? My body loves me, it loves me not. More and more I’m convinced that when it comes to our bodies, something is always working, something is always not working. We feel how we feel right here, right now.

For weeks I’ve been dreading this coming Wednesday. Because for weeks I’ve been fighting sinus stuff, and this Wednesday I have to work from sun up until after midnight. What if I feel miserable? I’ve been thinking over and over (and over) again. Then last week I started feeling better. (Whoopie!) Then two days ago I relapsed. (Boo.) Now I don’t know what’s going to happen. (Do we ever?) Yesterday I dreaded working all day today cleaning at a client’s, and yet it went fine. I was a little wiped out, but no where near exhausted or disgustingly sick. Indeed, I worked at my own pace and even enjoyed a book on tape as I scrubbed, dusted, swept, and mopped.

All that worry for nothing.

The book I listened to today was a juvenile fiction novel, but yesterday while raking leaves for my parents I finished listening to William Dameron’s The Lie: A Memoir of Two Marriages, Catfishing, and Coming Out. Talk about powerful. It’s about how the author, a gay man, maintained the illusion of being a straight man (by dating women, being married to a woman, having children, etc.) for decades. And whereas he obviously had to tell a lot of lies in order to keep his act up, he says it all started as a child when he first BELIEVED a lie, the notion that gay people aren’t worthy of love and a happy life.

You can be yourself.

I think about stuff like this a lot, about how lies complicate your life but the truth keeps it simple. I can’t speak for Dameron and have never been married (to a woman or a man), but I know what it’s like to be in the closet, and it’s full of lies and complications. You say, Oh, no, I like women. I just haven’t met the right one. You blow smoke up everyone else’s ass AND your own. All the while you’re trying to cover up your mannerisms and natural speech patterns. You lower your voice. You avert your eyes. Complicated. But when you’re honest, what’s to hide? You can be yourself. If anyone asks or you feel like sharing, you’ve got a one liner that goes, “I’m gay.” Even if someone says it’s not natural, you know it’s natural for you. Even if they say, “You’re going to hell,” it doesn’t change the facts. So you say, “Okay, I’m gay and I’m going to hell. Good. God knows SOMEONE needs to give that place a makeover.”

Simple.

I’m using being gay as an example, but this “lies are complicated, the truth is simple” formula can be applied to anything. Today at my client’s house there was a lot of clutter, and I caught myself thinking, They should be more organized (just like a fundamentalist might think, They should be more straight), the complicated part being that I then went down the rabbit hole of everything this person was doing “wrong” according the Gospel of Marcus. In short, I judged my neighbor (and forgot that their clutter was the reason I had a job today). But then I reminded myself that 1) it was their life, their house, and their clutter and 2) no one can be any more organized (or straight or kind or responsible) than they are in this moment. In the future, maybe. But not right here, right now. Right here, right now, we are as we are–organized, disorganized gay, straight, responsible, irresponsible, sick, not sick.

And that’s the simple truth, Ruth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one comes into this life knowing how to dance, always moving with grace."

On Manipulation and Cleaning Up Your Act (Blog #1039)

This afternoon I cleaned my room from top to bottom. Every book came off its shelf and was wiped down. Every knickknack came off its perch and was dusted. I pulled out my trundle bed and cleaned under there. (Talk about gross.) I even took apart the fan I turn on every night for white noise and cleaned it. You know how it’s difficult to clean a fan. Well, now mine is spic and span. No more dust on the blades. No more hairs wrapped around the propeller shaft. And whereas all of this took time, it was worth it. Sitting in my room now, I feel lighter, brighter.

God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Here’s something. Last week I did some yard work for a new client. Before agreeing to the job, I said, “I charge this much an hour,” and they said, “That’s great.” Well, it was a big job. Over the course of two days, I raked and bagged forty-six large bags of leaves in their backyard. When I finished I said, “I can take these bags around front if you’d like,” and they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” I said, “if you think you’re going to want me to move the bags later, I’d rather do it now than come back.”

Again they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I totaled my hours, and they paid me. Also, they gave me a fire pit off their back porch. “You can have it if you’d like it,” they said. “I never use it.” And whereas I kept hearing my therapist say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” I said, “Sure, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands.”

So I loaded it in my car, and that was that.

Or so I thought. What I mean is that this afternoon my client texted and said, “If you would put the leaves by the curb for pickup, that would be cool. They pick up Tuesday.” Well, something felt off to me about this, I guess because they didn’t actually ASK me to move the leaves. They just said, “That would be cool.” I mean, I think it’d be cool if someone would bring me breakfast in bed every day, but so far that hasn’t happened. Anyway, trying to determine if they wanted a favor or an employee, I replied, “I can do it later today. Also, it’ll probably be an additional one to two hours of labor/cost. Is that good?”

To which they replied, “Not really. I’m pretty tapped out. I can do it. Or we can call it a trade for the fire pit.”

Then they added, “Either way, I’m good.”

I responded, “I understand. And as I understood it, the fire pit was a gift. I’m happy to bring it back.”

“Oh no,” they said. “It’s fine. Enjoy it. It was just sitting there. Total misunderstanding.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. Good luck with everything.”

Y’all, I hate shit like this, when someone refuses to be direct. When someone says one thing but means another. When someone gives you a gift and later uses it as a tool for manipulation. This is why more and more it’s important for me to be as clear in my personal and professional dealings as possible. “This is how much I charge an hour. I’d rather move the bags now than come back later. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” This being said, I understand that, especially in the south, it’s extremely difficult for people to ask for what they want in plain terms. It’s MUCH easier to say, “If you don’t mind, that’d be cool.”

Alas, having played the indirect game for decades, I get it. I really do. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve hinted or subtly suggested my wants and needs, especially in terms of money, work, and compensation. Indeed, not all that long ago I would have driven my ass to Fort Smith and broken my back hauling forty-six bags of leaves from this lady’s backyard to her front yard, all the time HOPING she intended to pay me. Instead of just asking up front, “Are you going to pay me?”

Here’s the great thing about being up front. It gives someone a chance to say yes or no. Likewise, it saves a lot of time and drama. Today when my client (um, former client) said, “That’s not really good,” the rest of my day opened up. Because I certainly wasn’t going to spend three to four hours of my life driving across the bridge, working, and later cleaning myself up without pay.

You know, because it would have been a “cool” thing to do.

The lesson that I continue to learn is that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Does this mean that you should suspect everyone’s motives. No, I don’t think so. People are kind and do kind things every day. But, as Jesus said, be wise as serpents. Meaning that when a total stranger offers you a gift and later uses it as leverage, don’t be surprised. Meaning that in the future I could just ask, “Does this come with any strings attached?” And then the person could be honest. They could say, “No, I’d really like to get rid of it.” Or, “Yes, I was hoping you’d lower your rate or come back to move the bags for free.”

Getting back to the idea of manipulation, I think it’s important to call things for what they are. This being said, MOST of us have private agendas, so I don’t blame anyone for being indirect or trying to get me to do free work by way of guilt or any other strategy. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Still, it simply doesn’t work for me anymore. I prefer the direct, honest truth. Along these lines, no conversation about manipulation would be complete without pointing out (what should be) the obvious–it takes two to Tango, and it takes two to manipulate. What I mean is that someone can TRY to manipulate you, but you have to be complicit in their manipulation in order for it to work. Meaning you have to also be indirect, you have to FEEL guilty, and you have to DO the thing they’re asking you to. (Of course, if you do the thing with a conscious motive, like, “I’ll do this for free so they’ll like me and be my friend,” you’re also being manipulative. As Byron Katie would say–checkmate.)

So who’s fault would it have been had I gone to move the bags of leaves today and gotten stiffed? Mine. Because I would have known better, especially since my gut had alerted me to a problem.

All this to say that THIS is what the journey of self-discovery and growing up looks like. In fairy tales the hero faces giants and dragons, but in real life we face our clients, friends, and families. Better said, we face the fears and issues that our clients, friends, and families bring up in us. (And they face the ones we bring up in them.) Is this difficult? One the one hand, yes. It’s hell. It means being responsible and accountable for everything that happens in your life, or at least being responsible and accountable for the way you handle it. On the other hand, cleaning up your act (your communication, your life) is no more difficult than cleaning up your room. What I mean is that it happens one knickknack or interaction at a time.

Does this TAKE time?

Of course, but it’s worth it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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On Gays and Egg Salad (Blog #1038)

It’s almost midnight, and for the last thirty minutes I’ve been staring at my laptop trying to figure out what to write. (I got nothing.) Honestly, I’m dog tired. My bed is six feet away, and I’d much rather be over than over here. Indeed, my body is crying out for sleep. This evening I went out for Mexican food with my friend Aaron, and my head almost fell into the cheese dip. That being said, I still had a wonderful time and managed to stay more than alert for the drive home. But seriously, as soon as this blog is over, I’m out like a light.

I guess part of the reason I’m exhausted is because I didn’t get much sleep last night and have been going all day. Plus, I’ve eaten a lot. My insulin is working overtime. This morning I ate at a brunch buffet with friends and had three helpings. You know, to get ready for the Super Bowl, the official favorite holiday of gay men. (That was a joke, Mom. The official favorite holiday of gay men is Halloween. Because we get to pretend like we’re someone we’re not. Ironic, I know. You’d think all those years in the closet would have been enough pretending.) Anyway, after brunch, me and one of my friends ran around to a couple antique shops and one bookstore, where I bought an old book about nautical astronomy (how to navigate ships by the stars) for a dollar.

Something I’ve been thinking about tonight is how every book is a world unto itself. For example, the book I bought today includes charts and tables that if correctly read, understood, and used, would allow one to sail a ship around the globe using only the stars (and sun and moon and horizon, I’m assuming) for guidance. Talk about amazing. I can barely get to an out-of-town shopping mall without a GPS and three Hail Marys. But I digress. My point is that any book, fiction or non-fiction, has the power to open to you new and (hopefully) exciting ways of seeing the world. New ways of understanding. New ways of believing.

Along these lines, lately I’ve been thinking of individuals as books, each with his own way of perceiving, each with her own story to tell. And whereas our lives obviously overlap with the lives of others and we’re written into the chapters of our friends and families, no two books–er, no two lives–are exactly the same. Byron Katie says that each of us lives on a different planet, in a completely different solar system than everybody else. Meaning that in your book, in your world, gay people may be hated by God (or you rather, since we’re talking about the God in YOUR head) and condemned to hell. In mine, not so much. At one point this afternoon my friend’s sibling offered them egg salad, which the sibling obviously loved. “Ick,” my friend said. “I could never.”

See? Two different novels, two different stories. The story of “egg salad is delightful,” the story of “egg salad is shit.”

More and more, it’s becoming important for me to let people have their story and let people have their world. What I mean is that I have less and less interest in trying to change people, in trying to convince anyone that gays and egg salad are fabulous. This afternoon I stood amid thousands of books, and only one of them seemed so interesting that I reached for my wallet. But what? Am I going to insist that the other books be banned? Certainly not. Every book has a right to exist. Likewise, so does every person have a right to exist. Exactly as they are. With all of their experiences, opinions, and judgments. However contrary to mine or yours. This is love. It doesn’t demand that the people around us change one iota. Rather, it appreciates the fact that every book reads differently.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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