On Tragedy, Trauma, and Transformation (Blog #797)

Leave a comment

Phew. I just spent the entire day working. Twelve straight hours. This morning I began cleaning a friend’s house, which I’m taking care of this week. And whereas I was a bit overwhelmed when I started (it’s a big house), I’ve just been taking it room by room, piece of furniture by piece of furniture. My friend’s dog isn’t helping. In fact, when I took him for a walk this evening in the rain, he came back in the front door and promptly shook all the water off in “my” clean living room. The nerve!

Thankfully I hadn’t mopped the floors yet.

After nearly six hours of cleaning, I switched gears and went to my friends Todd and Bonnie’s to finish installing door hardware, a project I’ve been working on for a couple weeks now. This evening I put locks back on doors–um–four locks successfully. One lock broke (whoops), and another is missing parts. Who knows where they went! Next, I took a shower. Then I taught a dance lesson to a couple who’s getting married soon. The guy was so excited that he jumped up and down. I wish all my students did this. That being said, most of my students do pay me, and that makes me jump up and down, so–next best thing.

Now I’m back at my friend’s house. After walking the dog I thought about cleaning some more but then thought it better to write before my brain quit working. However, when I sat down in this chair, everything quit working–my brain and my body. Seriously, I could pass out right this very minute. Is this what people who have jobs and work all day feel like–exhausted?

Manual labor–it’s for the birds.

I’m joking, but it actually feels good to be tired. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from knowing I’ve worked hard not just today but lately. Todd and Bonnie’s looks so good–the doors are freshly painted (some else’s work), they open and shut properly (I hung some and other people adjusted them), and all the antique hardware absolutely pops. Likewise, the place I am now is beginning to sparkle. There’s still a lot to do (hopefully tomorrow), but I made a serious dent in things today. Recently a jet-lagged friend told me they cleaned their house instead of sleeping–because “it’ll feel so good when everything is finished.” This is the satisfaction I’m talking about, the yeah-it-was-tiring-but-I-did-it feeling.

This tired-but-satisfied feeling is what I often feel regarding this blog. I mean, after almost 800 days in a row, it’s starting to get old. Not that I don’t love it and not that it doesn’t do a lot for me–it does, it’s changed my life–but it wears me out. This is often the case with things that transform us. They take everything we’ve got and then some. While cleaning today I listened to a lecture about Goethe’s Faust (I and II), and the speaker said that Faust I ends in tragedy. Faust’s wife dies after killing their baby. (I know this is a spoiler alert, but the book is over two hundred years old, so it’s not like you haven’t had a chance to read it.) This is the deal on planet earth, the speaker said, tragedy comes with the territory. But don’t fret. Whereas a lot of modern interpretations of Faust end the story in despair (at the end of Faust I), Goethe intended and wrote a different ending (Faust II), an ending that includes Faust’s healing and transformation.

In other words, things get better.

Our traumas can transform us.

I’ve learned not to bemoan the horrible things in life. Not that you’ll never hear me complain about having a long day or an aching body. Complaining is too much fun. But in terms of the big stuff–the major traumas and ordeals–I don’t see the point in grousing. Because we all have shit happen. Considering the fact that our traumas can transform us if we let them, they don’t have to be the worst thing. Granted, transformation isn’t a passive act. You have to do your part, or your traumas could transform you into a resentful, bitter ass. Yes, there’s work to be done. Houses and door knobs don’t clean themselves, and neither do your insides. I wish it weren’t this way on planet earth. I wish The Hard Work weren’t required to achieve almost every truly satisfying thing. But I don’t make the rules around here. If you’re a phoenix and want a new life, you’ve got to go through the fire.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Everything is all right and okay.

"

Yesterday’s Casserole (Blog #796)

Leave a comment

This evening I attended a writing class taught by my friend Marla. And whereas we mostly discussed short stories and what they are (it’s a short-story writing class), we did have one assignment. The Prompt was “I don’t know why I can’t forget–.” We were supposed to take it from there. We had fifteen minutes. So rather than fill up tonight’s space with what I did today, I’d like to share what I wrote, since I think it’s something more organic and true. It begins below in non-italics (regular print).

However, before we begin, a few things–

Earlier in the class while introducing myself and talking about the blog, I said that I’ve learned to trust the writing process, to simply sit down and be honest. I said, “I know that whatever needs to come up, will.” This is true, my trusting the process. Not just in writing, but in therapy and life. I’ve come to believe that if I do my part, life will do its part. For example, when Marla gave the assignment tonight, I immediately knew how I would complete the rest of The Prompt. One specific thing came to mind. Then I started getting images, word associations. A quick mental outline formed. Fifteen minutes later, I was done.

Sometimes I think this is the best way to go about things, down and dirty. My therapist says our knee-jerk answers and gut reactions are often–usually–what’s most true for us. I’ve been listening to an audio program about one’s shadow (the inner shadow, not the outer one), and it says the same thing–that our first thought is usually our best thought, or at least the most potentially healing one. Like, if you said, “I’m most afraid of–” or “I’m terrified that people will find out–” and then quickly, without thinking, filled in the blanks, you’d probably find out something really important about yourself.

For the assignment tonight I wrote about something that, quite honestly, has annoyed the hell out of me for years. Something akin to a song that gets stuck in your head. And yet, tonight that thing ended up giving me more than it’s ever taken away. Caroline Myss says that you think something you can’t get out of your head–a little memory–is just an irritation, but that it’s actually there for a reason. That if you dig a little deeper, you may heal in some way. This was my experience tonight and is what I mean by Trusting the Process. Two decades of being irritated by something I’ve wished I could forget, and–bam!–in fifteen minutes that thing turned me upside down for the better. Because I finally listened (to myself).

As one writer has said, the subconscious is extremely efficient.

Yesterday’s Casserole
By Marcus Coker

I don’t know why I can’t forget my junior high science teacher saying, “Water is the universal solvent.” Over twenty-five years have passed since I first heard these words, and I still can’t—for the life of me—get them out of my brain. I’ll be taking a shower or washing the dishes, really scrubbing the dirt off, and a picture of Janice Massey, this middle-aged woman in a flower-print dress, will pop into my head and I’ll hear those words.

“Water is the universal solvent.”

I’ve thought a lot about this over the years, way more than I’d like to admit. Of all the useless facts to remember. I wish I could forget it. “Water is the universal solvent.” It’s like this broken record that plays in my brain every time I use water to clean something, every time I use water to soften something. “Water is the universal solvent,” my brain keeps saying.

“I know that!” I reply.

“Do you?” it says. “Do you really?”

Hum.

Thinking back to junior high and Mrs. Massey’s science class—that’s when we had that bad car accident. That’s when Dad left. That’s when, really, I stopped crying. Everything, I guess, was too much for me to handle, to talk about. Maybe, just maybe, I stiffened my upper lip, let myself get hard. You know the way old junk—yesterday’s casserole–will build up on your dishes if you don’t wash them off now and then. This is what I’ve been learning these last few years, that you can’t let the junk build up. You can’t stop crying. Recently I was writing about that bad car accident and absolutely broke down in tears because I realized how scared I was that night, how much I’d pushed down. Sobbing as I remembered, it felt like something softened, like my plate was cleaner somehow, like something finally dissolved.

Water is the universal solvent.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

"

Patience Takes Practice (Blog #795)

Leave a comment

This morning before I’d even really woken up, my dad said, “I hate to say this before you’ve had your coffee, but do you think you could mow the lawn today?” Well, he was right. Decaffeinated, I wasn’t in the mood to think about anything, much less work.” However, for whatever reason, I was determined to have a good day, so I said, “Sure, I can do that after I eat breakfast.” The problem, however, was that as I worked, it got cloudier and cloudier. It actually started raining while I was mowing the backyard. Still, I kept going. Then, about the time I was, I don’t know, about eighty percent done, the bottom fell out.

As my family says, it pissed and poured.

Forced to quit in the middle of a project, I was faced with a choice–get upset (that I didn’t finish) or accept life as it was in that moment. I chose option two. Indeed, I went a step further. I continued to work–and play–in the rain (closing the gate, moving flower pots, etc.). I actually sat down in the street in the rushing water to wash my legs off. I can’t tell you how much fun it was, the water lapping all over my body. Later Dad told Mom, “I wish you could have seen your son. He was SPLASHING water all over himself like a little kid.”

Of course, part of me is bothered that the lawn isn’t mowed, that things aren’t completed. But in the midst of the downpour, I thought, I’ve worked really hard over the years to get the patience that I have, so I might as well use it. Said another way, patience is a skill that I’ve developed. It’s a tool in my toolbox. So whereas my default is to get at least slightly worked up when things don’t go my way (or at most panic and cuss like a sailor), I know that I don’t HAVE to get worked up. Instead, as all those damn memes on the internet say, I can remain calm–and exercise patience.

This evening I worked at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house reinstalling the door hardware that I’ve been cleaning (shining) these last couple weeks. This involved hanging doors on hinges, and THIS involved exercising more patience because things never fit the same when you put them back on as they do when you take them off. There’s all this adjusting to do. Sometimes the doorknobs won’t turn. More adjusting. Anyway, what I thought would be two-hour project turned into a six-hour one. How do you work in a house with over twenty doors? One door at at time. If you’re not in a hurry, there’s not a problem.

My mantra for today has been, Everything that’s happens today is what’s supposed to happen. Therefore, I’m not going to get upset. If something is THAT BAD, I’ll be upset about it tomorrow. So when a door wouldn’t shut, I’d just try again. When my mechanic discovered that I needed a new alternator, I thought, These things happen. When I got the bill later, I thought, I’m grateful to have a working vehicle, and at least I’ve been employed lately.

Now that the day is over, it’s possible that some of my–um–ignored frustrations have added up and are getting under my skin. As I’m writing, I’m ready to be done, ready to be in bed, and I’m finding myself irritated. Granted, it’s two in the morning, and–I think–my body is mostly asking for a break. Plus, I think it’s “normal” to get upset when things don’t go your way, when things take longer or cost more than you think they’re going to. That being said, I think it behooves us to TRY to manage our chosen responses. I say chosen responses rather than knee-jerk-reactions, since I imagine a part of us will always think, Shit, whenever we’re slapped with a mechanic’s bill. But that doesn’t mean we have to play Isn’t It Awful? for hours after our initial disappointment.

For me, patience takes practice and is a practice. When I hear people say, “I’m not very patient,” I think, That’s because you haven’t worked at it. That’s because–every day for decades–you’ve practiced something else–getting upset, for example, when things don’t go your way. (I include myself in this statement.) Because you’re gonna respond TO LIFE one way or the other–with agitation and frustration or with patience and grace. So again, we’re back to choices, back to what we choose to practice.

Personally, if I were giving myself a grade for patience today, I’d give me a solid B, maybe a B-. I’m okay with this. I don’t have to get an A+ for patience. I don’t have to be “perfect.” As a friend recently said, “Perfection takes a lot of work.” And just as I don’t have to be perfect at patience, I don’t have to mow the entire lawn in one day or hang every door in one evening. In terms of my emotions, it’s enough to do better than knee-jerk. It terms of working, it’s enough to do better than not mowing the lawn or not hanging any doors at all.

It’s enough to make progress.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You've got to believe that things can turn around, that even difficult situations--perhaps only difficult situations--can turn you into something magnificent.

"

Reconnecting (Blog #794)

Leave a comment

It’s late, two in the morning, and I’m tired. Really, I’m in no shape to think. (Whatever you do, don’t let me vote.) Still, I must. Think, that is. Or at least try. (Geez, this is going so well.) I just finished listening to a lecture about synchronicity. Then, when I tried to “synch” my photos for tonight’s blog, they wouldn’t. This is called ironic. Anyway, it’s amazing how frustrated I can get when I’m tried (or hungry) and things aren’t working like I want them to. I can really pitch an internal fit. I can really tense up.

I’m telling myself I’m going to keep this short. This weekend I’ve did something I never do–relaxed. That is, I chilled out, visited people I care about, listened to music, watched television, drank a gin and tonic. Relaxed. I didn’t even read a book. Not one page. Consequently, due to all my inactivity, I don’t have a lot to talk about.

One thing I did do earlier tonight was look at stars. This is the first time I’ve really studied the heavens since winter. And whereas it was beautiful and fun, I’d forgotten a lot. I mean, the stars change from season to season, not to mention throughout the night. And since it’s been nearly a full year since I looked up at a spring sky, it’s going to take me a while to get reacquainted with its constellations and “major players.” But really, it’s been months since I’ve seen Jupiter. And yet there it was tonight not exactly but basically where I left it last year–near Scorpius.

Okay, my brain is failing, so I’m going to find a way to wrap this up. Lately I’ve been thinking about this relaxing thing, about how I’d really like my physical body and nervous system to relax, since I always feel slightly on edge, tense. For years I’ve gritted down to get stuff done and, in the process, ignored a lot of my body’s cries for a break. Stop pushing so hard. More and more I know we can’t go on like this. I’ve blogged a hundred times (or more) this late at night, and I just can’t keep it up. At least not tonight. I don’t know, I used to be worried that other people could relax and find peace and balance and that I couldn’t. But now I believe these things in all of us, waiting for us to come back to them. Like a planet or bright star int he sky, just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there. It’s just a matter of reconnecting with them, of finding yourself again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

"

Games People Play (Blog #793)

Leave a comment

Yesterday I bought a new battery for my car, Tom Collins. The lights on the dashboard had been going crazy, and, according to the internet, that was the most likely problem. The battery or the alternator. The guy at the battery store tested the alternator after putting in the new battery and said I was good to go. Phew. Or so I thought. Since the lights continued to flash, I got things tested again by another store. That guy said it was definitely a bad alternator. Well, he was right. (Shit.) Tom Collins died last night.

So that’s something to deal with.

While all this was going on, the plumbing at my parents’ house backed up. We’re still not sure if the problem is under control or not. This morning, first thing, like before I’d even had my coffee, Dad said, “More bad news.” The air conditioner quit. It was like, Crap, what are we gonna do?

Thankfully, the air conditioner is now working. A service guy came out, and a wire had gone bad. What’s more, there wasn’t a service charge involved. Now just to deal with Tom Collins and the plumbing.

I’ve spent this afternoon helping my friend Todd. He and his wife Bonnie are in the middle of remodel, so I’ve been cleaning their antique door hardware. Today Todd and I went to Lowe’s for new ceiling fans, wall plate covers, and a number of others things. While there, Todd took his time chatting with the folks at Lowe’s, folks who apparently always treat him well and help him get the best deal (he does a lot of business there). Anyway, when we left Todd said, “I always try to slow down and talk to people because relationships are important. Plus, I’m an old retired fart, so I’m not in a hurry.”

I could stand to learn a lot of from Todd, from his old-retired-fart mentality. (But really, he was laid back before he retired.) Nothing seems to phase him. When a problem comes up with his house, he doesn’t pitch a fit, he just thinks, Okay. How can we fix this? Then he gets to be creative, to find a solution. And whereas I like to be creative and find solutions too, I always have this moment of panic when problems arise. Yesterday when Tom Collins’s lights started going nuts, I was ramped up for a few hours. This is bad, I thought, this is terrible. Then again with the plumbing and the air conditioner. There’s an old psychology book called Games People Play, and one of the games was called Isn’t It Awful? Like, Isn’t it awful that my car broke down? Isn’t it awful that the air conditioner stopped working? Isn’t it awful that we’re hot or running late?

You get the idea. Perhaps you’ve even played this game yourself.

While running around today, Todd told me a story about an old man–a grumbling old cuss–who got upset with Todd and some of his bicycling friends. I don’t remember what happened–somebody got in somebody else’s lane maybe, and this guy went to shaking his fist and really playing Isn’t It Awful? I thought, Geez, old dude, you’ve had seventy years on earth, and you haven’t figured out how to be happy. You haven’t figured out how to keep stuff from getting under your skin. Because, let’s face it, problems are always going to pop up, things are always going to break. Why get all worked up? For me, this is The Hard Work, figuring out how to keep normal life from getting to me, figuring out how to play a different game, a game like How Can We Fix This? or Everything’s Going to Be Just Fine.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We’re all made of the same stuff.

"

My First Rodeo (Blog #792)

1 Comment

Oh my gosh. Tonight I went to the rodeo. Like horses and bulls and cowboys (in Wranglers)–the rodeo. This afternoon my friend Kim invited me. She–apparently–goes every night, every year, and had an extra ticket. And whereas at first I said no (I had plans to work and was also stressed out with car maintenance issues), I changed my mind. My dad encouraged me. He said, “Marcus, you haven’t been to the rodeo since you were a child. Live a little.” So that’s what I did. Or rather, that’s what we did–me, Kim, and her daughter Laura–slapped on our cowboy hats and had a big ole time.

Giddyup.

Don’t squat with your spurs on.

So, I don’t know if you’ve been to the rodeo, but it really is the wildest thing. Our group sat on the front row, and several times had dirt kicked in our faces by the animals. Kim said one year a bull’s leg came through the guardrail and hit her son’s knee. Talk about live drama. As if the cowboys who ride the bucking horses and bulls weren’t enough. I kept watching those guys tonight, their spinal columns whipped about like those blow-up Crayon characters in front of car dealerships. Seriously, they looked like rubber, but you know that’s got to hurt. One cowboy tonight got bucked off and landed on his knees in the splits and limped off like I did when I tore my ACL. Laura said, “I bet her broke his leg.”

I said, “This shit is real.”

On a lighter note, one of the categories tonight was called Mutton Busting, which basically involved toddlers (4 to 8 year olds) holding onto the backs of sheep for their dear lives. Oh my gosh, talk about adorable–the kids wear protective vests and helmets and clamp down with all fours while the sheep run, run, run. I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life.

When the rodeo was over, Kim and Laura visited with some friends of Kim’s, and I ate a caramel-covered apple with nuts. This is “a thing” of mine whenever I’m at the fair–and, now–the rodeo. Talk about delicious.

Next we went to an afterparty “just to check things out.” Y’all, we ended up closing the place down. First we visited (the bar and with each other), then Laura and I hit the dance floor. Talk about exciting–I love two-step, and this was my first chance to two-step since my knee injury. And whereas Laura hasn’t danced a ton before, she caught on super-duper quick, so we had a blast. A blast, I say.

At one point during the night, we joked that this really was “my first rodeo,” since I don’t remember going as a child. At least I don’t remember watching the events and understanding what was happening. And whereas parts of it really were terrifying (horses and bulls are powerful animals), that was part of the fun, part of the thrill. I commented that the bull fighting (there was bull fighting!) was our modern-day equivalent of gladiators and the colosseum. You know, where people would die. I don’t know, there’s just nothing like live (and dangerous) entertainment, seeing a cowboy fly through the air, smelling the animals, feeling the dirt land against your skin.

Recently the Arkansas River flooded in Fort Smith and Van Buren, like higher than it ever has before. My immediate friends and family are okay, but it’s gross. Buildings and homes and under water. Some of my former students are affected, not just by the water, but by looters. I can’t imagine. All this being said, it’s phenomenal to see the river up so high. This afternoon I was driving over one of the bridges, and I couldn’t believe it. There was water everywhere, covering the tree tops, just below a local retaining wall. Anyway, I was suddenly struck with the peace of it all. What I mean is that in the midst of this big, powerful river, I connected with that sense of quiet that’s always there if we’d just slow down enough to realize it. I thought, Nature is herself. She doesn’t ask for praise on a sunny day or apologize when she turns a town upside down. She simply continues to move.

It was beautiful.

Personally, I think this beauty that is life is always there for us. It’s just we get so busy that we don’t see it, feel it. We get so wrapped up in what we think is wrong that we don’t see what’s right. We go about our days assuming we’ve been there and done that. We say, “This ain’t my first rodeo.” Consequently, we get cynical. We lose our capacity to wonder, to be amazed. It takes something grand or violent–a raging bull or river–to get our attention, to wake us up the present moment. And yet each new moment offers something beautiful and amazing. You and I have seen yesterday’s sun and today’s sun, but not tomorrow’s. No, tomorrow’s sun has never risen, never set. Indeed, tomorrow itself is a whole new rodeo, which we can attend with fresh, full-of-wonder eyes if we are wiling.

Giddyup.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

In this moment, we are all okay.

"

On Branches-Down Thinking (Blog #791)

Leave a comment

This afternoon a friend and I were discussing things to do in Fort Smith, and she said that when people tell her “Fort Smith really needs this” or “Fort Smith really needs that,” she says, “Why don’t YOU do it?” Then she continued, “Most people find an excuse not to, but some people actually get involved. But really–what are you waiting on–Providence to sweep down and scoop you off your couch?” Amen. This is how I feel about a lot of things–dancing, exercise, writing, and mental health, for example. You’ve gotta get off your couch if you want to see improvement in these areas. (Well, maybe not writing and mental health. I’m on a couch right now.) A week ago I agreed to be part of an upcoming murder mystery fundraiser simply because if I want my social life to improve (and I do), I’ve got to get out of the house (sorry, Mom and Dad).

As Liza Minnelli says, you gotta ring them bells.

Recently my therapist and I were talking about complaining. You know, bitching, grousing, whining, or whinging. Similar to my friend I just mentioned, I said that I knew several people who frequently complained about this or that but that–from my perspective–refused to do anything about this or that. “I used to the same way,” I said, “but it’s just so clear to me now–they don’t have to put up with other people’s bullshit. Suffering is optional.” Well, my therapist said two things. First, that she LOVED to complain, that it was one of her favorite pastimes. And whereas this hasn’t been my observation of her, that’s probably because she’s so fucking funny whenever she does it. Like, she’d be a fabulous standup comedian, which, now that I think about it, is really a person who gets PAID to complain. So I guess it’s really not the content when someone complains, but the delivery. (Work on your delivery, people!) Anyway, second, my therapist said, “Some people really get off on being martyrs.”

Think about that.

A few weeks ago I got an unsolicited email from an online hemp (CBD oil, etc.) company asking me to promote their products on my blog. In return, they offered to promote me on their Twitter account, which–I just looked–has 452 followers. Along with their (generous) offer, they included a link to one of their blogs about mental health. I guess this is why they thought we’d be a good “fit” for each other. The Mental Health Connection. Earlier tonight I read the blog, entitled “Ten Mental Health Habits to Try in 2019.” Great, I thought, I might learn something. Well–get out your pen and paper–here they are: exercise, gratefulness, be kind, sleep, hang out with friends, chocolate (made with CBD oil), laugh, eat well, love yourself, meditate.

Okay. I have a lot of thoughts. On the positive side, I think all of these are fabulous things to do, especially the chocolate one. Personally, I know that I always feel better after I exercise, express gratitude, be kind, sleep, hang out with friends, laugh, eat well, love myself (talk kindly to yourself was their suggestion), or meditate. Super. That being said, having spent the last five years deliberately working on my mental health, I also see all ten of these suggestions as very surface recommendations. My therapist would call them “soccer mom” recommendations. No offense to soccer moms, but just to say they (the suggestions, not the moms) don’t go very deep.

They don’t really cut the mustard.

Other than “sleep” or “take a nap,” my therapist has never–not once in five years–suggested I do any of the things on the above list. Well, maybe meditate. But this isn’t because they’re bad things to do. They aren’t. Do them. Knock yourself out. But in terms of doing them in order to improve your mental health, that’s like putting a Bandaid on a broken arm. Sure, it might make you feel better, but it doesn’t really get to the root of the problem. For years–nearly a decade–I worked with exercise, gratitude journals, “being nice,” saying positive, self-loving affirmations, and meditating. The entire time I hoped that I’d be able to “spiritualize” myself in such a way as to never have to confront my problems directly–to have the hard conversations, to set boundaries, to speak my truth. Said another way, I hoped I’d never have to admit–My arm is broken, I’m hurting, and I could use a little help here.

I’ve said before that what took me to therapy was a bad relationship. Before I started therapy, I tried everything I knew–every suggestion my self-help books offered to make it better. I tried being kind and being understanding, the whole time thinking that if only I had enough inner peace, he could be a total asshat (and boy could he ever) and it wouldn’t matter. But it did–it did matter. Maybe a saint could find peace in a prison, but 1) I’m not a saint and 2) the saint would be a fool to not walk out of the prison if he suddenly learned the door was open and no one was standing in his way.

What I learned in therapy was that that relationship was simply a SYMPTOM, a natural result of past traumas, my upbringing, and my beliefs–about myself and what I was worthy of, others and how they should treat me, and the world around me. In other words, I was sick. Now, I don’t mean diagnosable. I have family members who are clinically mentally ill, and I wasn’t that. But just like my family members “laugh” when people tell them “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” or “try getting more sun,” I laugh now at the thought that hanging out with more friends or eating chocolate with CBD oil could have even come close to fixing my sickness.

Really, situation is a better word than sickness, since I don’t mean sick as in diagnosable or gross, but sick as in “something isn’t working here.” Something isn’t as healthy here as it could be/should be. As I see it now, we all have situations or things that aren’t working–a relationship, a job, a feeling or behavior that won’t leave us alone. What I’m saying is that no problem happens in isolation and that, chances are, the roots of our problems run deep. If you’d rather complain that do something about your problems–and if you’re not going to be a standup comedian–ask yourself why. Because complaining or playing the martyr is a very disempowering thing to do, whereas facing your problems directly is very empowering. Sure, you can get a lot of sympathy and you can feel sorry for yourself by staying helpless, but staying helpless never produces longterm positive results or, for that matter, self-esteem.

Why not empower yourself and walk out of your prison?

Going back to the list of ten things to try for mental health, I see them as a bit like trying to grow a tree from the branches down. We see all these lists on the internet–be kind, be grateful, laugh, treat yourself well. But these aren’t things you can simply force yourself to do, at least for very long. Rather, they are the fruits of healthy roots. (I rhymed!) So work on your roots. Go to the heart of your problems and deal with them directly, then you will naturally be grateful, kind, and all those other things. Then you’ll naturally treat yourself lovingly because you will have cleared away enough junk to connect with the love that organically resides in your heart. Affirmations push truth into us. The Hard Work cracks us open and lets truth flow out. We see other people who have walked The Path and think that if we ACT like them, we will EXPERIENCE their peace. But again, this is branches-down thinking. Trees grow from the roots up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

"

Unadulterated (Blog #790)

Leave a comment

What to say, what to say? I’ve spent the day, most of it, with my face buried in my laptop, either reading books or looking at books on online stores or libraries. If I could do this every day, I’d be a happy camper. That being said, I’m sure my eyes would fall out, if my brain didn’t fall out first. At one point this evening I HAD to stop reading a fascinating book about Chartres Cathedral–did you know that the Notre Dame (Our Lady) cathedrals in France are laid out in relation to each other in the shape of the constellation Virgo?–because I was absolutely famished. Later I stopped to exercise. A body has to eat. A body has to move.

One of the books I read this afternoon was by Guy Kettelhack and was about–quite frankly–gay men and sex. And whereas I don’t intend to go into details (you’re welcome), the author had a lot to say about how we, as people in general, suppress or try to ignore various aspects of ourselves. Our sexuality, for instance. Because we think certain parts of ourselves are good and holy, and other parts of ourselves are wicked and vile. At the very least something we shouldn’t talk about on the internet. But Kettelhack says, “Every part of you is true.” The idea behind this statement, I think, is that even those desires, fantasies, and emotions we deem socially unacceptable, first of all, exist whether we want them to or not. Second, they exist because they have something to offer us. Third, and along the lines of yesterday’s blog, we’d do better to interact with all of our parts consciously rather than unconsciously.

Another thing Kettelhack says is that permission is letting yourself be who you already are. In terms of sexuality, I know that I’ve spent a lot of time (historically) trying to convince myself I wasn’t something I am–gay. But in other terms, I’ve also spent a lot of time trying to convince myself I wasn’t a number of other things–upset, angry, unhappy, even happy. This has caused me to distrust my own body and emotions and instead try to substitute who I am for what I’ve thought I should be–as told to me by the church, a self-help book, or even so-called friends. This is one of the worst things, I think, that a person could do–discount their own inherent wisdom, the truth of their experience because someone else says something different.

And yet it happens every day.

This isn’t to say that if you have a sexual urge or unpleasant emotion (like anger) that you should take it out on the world around you. But it is to say that you’ll get further by acknowledging how you really feel than by depressing your authentic desires and internal reactions. Recently I was considering confronting someone, and my therapist said, “Do you want to but feel like you ‘shouldn’t’?” And whereas that wasn’t the case, it reminded me of countless other situations in which I felt like I “shouldn’t” speak my truth or do what I really wanted to because it wasn’t socially appropriate, I imagined I’d hurt somebody’s feelings, or I was afraid someone wouldn’t like me.

It’s not your job to make anyone else happy.

The problem with this way of living, of course, is that it puts someone else’s imagined experience above your actual experience. Or even their actual experience above your actual experience. Either way, you’re the one who ends up suffering. I’ve known people–usually gay people–who have married someone just to make that person, their parents, or god happy. But here’s a slap in the face–it’s not your job to make another human being, your parents, or even god happy. (If god hasn’t figured out how to be happy after all this time, that’s his problem.) Indeed, you CAN’T make anyone else happy. Sure, maybe you can do something nice and evoke a smile, but when has anybody else been able to make YOU happy? Like, permanently, deep down? It just doesn’t work that way.

As the saying goes, happiness is an inside job.

Your inside job.

My therapist says that when you’re honest, first with yourself and then with others, you give both you and others a gift–the gift of you authentic response. By being honest (and the honest truth is different than your honest opinion), you give others permission to do the same. Because we all teach by example. Like, if I live a closeted life or pretend to be someone I’m not, I teach others that “this is the way.” But if I live an authentic life, one in which I speak my truth and honor my body and emotions, I naturally imply that it’s good and safe and right for others to do the same. I suggest, and I’m saying it clearly now, You don’t have to hide anything about yourself in order to be accepted or loved.

From my perspective, the world is lacking in honesty and authenticity. Granted, the words gets a lot of lip service these days. But if they were truly “a thing,” the world would be a different place. That is, if you think you have truth in your life and yet your life looks the same as it did ten, twenty, or thirty years ago, I’m gonna suggest maybe you don’t. Because truth is married to change. It comes into your life like a wrecking ball–it has to–in order to remove all that is false within you–your false perceptions, your false beliefs, your false relationships. This is why I pay my therapist so much money. My friends tell me, “Maybe it’ll work out. Give him a chance.” My therapist tells me, “He’s a fucking asshole. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but he is.” But I do want to hear it, even if it destroys my fantasies–because I’ve lived under illusions for decades and know they don’t lead anywhere but Pain and Suffering.

No, give me something honest. Give me something real. Turn my life upside down if you have to, but give me something true.

Back to the constellation Virgo being associated with gothic cathedrals. There’s a lot of theories as to why. For example, Virgo is associated with the spring (she’s technically a late summer zodiac sign, but she first appears in the sky in the spring), with new life (the new life you’ll have if you let truth wreck your old one). Also, Virgo is The Virgin. Again, the virgin birth is often used to symbolize the birth of one’s spiritual (rather than physical) life. And whereas virgins are immediately thought of as sexually pure, symbolically they remind me to be internally pure. Not pure as in text-book perfect, but pure as is wrecking-ball honest. Pure as in “I can handle the truth,” even if isn’t pretty or socially acceptable, which (here’s something that sucks) it rarely is. Pure as in unadulterated–integrated in all your parts; whole in your body, heart, and mind; complete .

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

"

Ignorance Is Not Bliss (Blog #789)

Leave a comment

Today was therapy and therapy day. First I saw my regular therapist, then I saw my physical therapist. Now I’m so healthy I can’t stand myself. One of the techs at physical therapy noted that I was “still coming.” My physical therapist said, “He’s addicted to the pain.” I said, “I’m addicted to the progress.” This is what I’d say about regular therapy too–by simply showing up and doing the work, I realize consistent positive results.

Why wouldn’t I keep going?

Two weeks ago at physical therapy I hopped on one leg for the first time. And whereas it wasn’t pretty, it was something. Today that exercise was easier. Still not pretty, but easier. Then I jumped off a step with two legs and landed on one leg (my left, the one I had surgery on). “Like hopscotch,” my physical therapist said.

“Uh–it’s been few years,” I said.

“You know you’re in a hopscotch league,” another physical therapist chimed in.

“Yes, and I also do double-dutch jump rope on Saturdays,” I answered.

Landing on one leg was rough–shaky–but thankfully there was a rail to grab so I wouldn’t fall over. Shaky–that’s a good way to explain my experience with knee rehab. Sometimes my entire body quakes and quivers when I’m trying to lower myself down into a chair using only my left leg. Even still, I see progress. Today while lowering myself into a chair, I had more control than I’ve ever had since my injury (I tore my ACL six months ago). Also, with each new exercise, like the one-leg hopscotch landing, both my mind and body become less afraid. It’s like, Okay, we can do this.

At regular therapy, my therapist and I discussed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I read an article about OCD recently that said sometimes it takes the form of “information hoarding.” Well, you know how you can Google a health problem and all of a sudden convince yourself you have a deadly disease? Since I download, buy, and borrow books faster than I can read them, I thought, I have that. I’m an information hoarder. My therapist said, “I don’t think you’re as extra as you think you are. You’re not hurting anyone, and you’re not cancelling social engagements or missing work to stay home and download books, play video games, or wash your hands. When you get to the point that your books are piled up so high that you can’t walk in your house, then come back and talk to me about having OCD.” Then she added, “Personally, I think more people could buy a few books.”

Right?

Along the lines of people being uneducated, my therapist said, “People say that ignorance is bliss, but that’s a really ignorant statement.” Then she explained that when people lead unexamined lives, sure, there’s a certain “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” happiness in that. “But the price of self-ignorance is strife, drama, passive aggressiveness, anger, anxiety, and internal tension,” she said.

Among other things.

In terms of self-ignorance, I don’t know many people–myself included–who would gladly admit, Gosh, I don’t know much about myself. For an answer as to why, I harken back to a recent question I asked (and have often asked along The Path)–How can you know what you don’t know? Simply put, you can’t. I’ve mentioned before that I took reiki and meditation classes for years from an excellent teacher who talked about boundaries consistently. And whereas I remember hearing what she said, it didn’t sink in. It never occurred to me that my boundaries were off, even though–I can see now–they were. Likewise, despite a number of less-than-ideal relationships (both platonic and intimate), I never realized I was repeating PATTERNS, going through the same drama over and over, just with different characters. Despite my constantly reading self-help books, it took my working with a therapist (a trained professional) for me to see these things.

In my experience, you’re probably not going to wake one morning and–bam!–suddenly identify the unproductive patterns in your life and WHY they are there in the first place. Sure, you may intellectualize that your mother did this or your father did that, but chances are you won’t be able to draw a line from your childhood relationships and situations to your current relationships and situations. Not because you’re stupid, but because they don’t call it the UNCONSCIOUS for no reason. So how do you know what you don’t know? How do you bring the UNCONSCIOUS up? Simply put, you look for signs then work backwards.

I’ll explain.

Things that are unhealthy leave their mark.

Recently my car, Tom Collins, has been making a squeaking noise. Since we’ve been through this before, I know the squeaking means I need at least one new brake pad. (I should probably do something about that.) My point is that when something is wrong, there’s usually evidence of it. When you’re sick, you’ll either feel tired, get a runny nose, start bleeding out of your ears, or whatever. Like a slug that leaves a trail of slime behind it, Things That Are Unhealthy leave their mark. This same principle applies to one’s mental, emotional, and relational health. That is, if there’s something that needs your attention, your subconscious will create flare signals. It will SEND UP stress, anxiety, nervousness, conflict, and any number of other uncomfortable feelings in an effort to get you to check yourself out (rather than be checked out–or self-ignorant).

I started therapy because I was in a terrible (horrible, no-good, very bad) relationship. Looking back, that relationship was a distress signal. And whereas I could have blamed the other person (and did) or simply told myself that all my uncomfortable feelings were “normal,” I was so miserable that I had to do something about it. I had to do something about MYSELF. Because that’s the deal–if you’re arguing with the people in your life or things aren’t working at work, the answer starts with you. Only YOU can do something about YOUR problems. At the very least, I think, you have to ask yourself, Why am I willing to entertain this bullshit? In my case, I thought, What is wrong with me that I’m ATTRACTED to someone who lies and cheats (and lies and cheats some more)?

From there, I worked backwards. With my therapist, I identified A HISTORY OF PATTERNS. Slowly, we worked at breaking those patterns, at setting boundaries first with myself then with others. And I do mean slowly. Just like learning to hopscotch again doesn’t happen overnight, you don’t become self-enlightened overnight. I’m not sure it can even be done in one lifetime. Caroline Myss says, “Consciousness is expensive.” This means that becoming self-aware and self-possessed is hard work, The Hard Work. This is why people say ignorance is bliss–because they don’t want to put in the effort. They want to believe that they can “go along to get along” or simply “accept Jesus as their personal lord and savior” and not have to work out their salvation with fear and trembling. This truly is ignorance. You don’t learn to double-dutch jump rope without putting the time in.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

"

How to Get Your Mind in the Mood (Blog #788)

Leave a comment

Phew. After having breakfast with a friend this morning, I spent the entire day, about eight hours, wrapping up at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house. For the last three days I’ve been cleaning antique hardware–removing paint (with chemicals and elbow grease), then either polishing or repainting what’s underneath. I’ve been to Lowe’s four times, Walmart twice, and Walgreen’s once. I’ve been up and down more steps than I can count, working feverishly because the painters are coming back tomorrow to rehang doors and need the hardware to do it. Thankfully, I think, everything is ready.

Here’s a picture of some of the polished brass. I’ll spare you photos of the rest, but in terms of volume, each door  (on average) has 2 large plates, 1 small plate, 2 knobs, 2 hinges, and one lock (small plates and hinges are shown in yesterday’s blog)–and there were seventeen doors (I think).

Here’s a video of in inner workings of one of the locks. I took it apart because the bolt was sticking out, tilted like a drunken sailor. I had to open up another lock to figure out how to fix it. As it turns out, a small piece of metal had popped out that was supposed to hold the bolt in place (I hammered it back in). I don’t narrate the video, but notice that a small, bent wire pushes the latch out. The bolt itself works via two levers–one that pushes the bolt in or out (and moves horizontally), and another that “locks” it in the lock position (and moves vertically). The small piece of broken metal I hold up at the end of the video is what I found when I took the lock apart. It’s the broken-off end of a skeleton key, which would have been used to 1) lift the vertical-moving lever and then 2) slide the horizontal-moving lever, thus locking or unlocking the door.

 

After a full day of manual labor, about nine, I sat down on Todd and Bonnie’s porch with a cup of coffee and intentions of resting. My thought was that I’d drink my Joe, take a shower, then hang around to blog. However, while scrolling on my phone I learned that two of the three bridges from Fort Smith to Van Buren were going to be closed at ten due to the recent flooding of the Arkansas River. (We’ve either already have or are about to break a record for this area. It’s not pretty.) So rather than be stranded in Fort Smith, I threw all my stuff in Tom Collins (my car), and booked it across the bridge.

When I got home (safe and sound) I was apparently still in “get shit done” mode. (It’s hard to turn it off once it’s on.) First I changed a florescent lightbulb in the laundry room (Dad’s been asking me to for weeks), then I repaired a shelf that fell down in my bathroom WELL OVER a year ago. The wall anchors had come loose and left big holes in the wall. And whereas I’d been thinking I’d have to patch the wall (and that wouldn’t work because I don’t think we have that paint anymore), I came up with another solution during one of my many trips to Lowe’s. (It’s tough to explain, and I didn’t take a picture of it.) Anyway, the shelf is up now. It didn’t hang flat against the wall initially (the top was farther out that the bottom), so I shoved a thin bar of cheap motel soap between the wall and the bottom of the shelf to fix it.

Glad to know that soap’s good for something.

After I hung the shelf, I felt compelled to decorate it. See the above photo. The tin next to the dinosaur–ironically–says Fossil. Anyway, because I used a lot of stuff from the shelf on the opposite wall to decorate the just-fixed shelf, I then felt compelled to decorate that one. Since I’m picky as shit, this took a while. Nonetheless, I settled on displaying a few of my favorite handwritten cards along with a small collection of tins I have. I use them to store jewelry, pins, and USB drives. Fun fact–the duck in the ABOVE photo is a USB drive. It’s from The Peabody Hotel in Memphis.

Don’t see a duck? Time to see your eye doctor.

Since I stole the cards in the above photo from a shelf in my bedroom, I then “had” to redecorate the shelf. (I’m sick, I know.) Thankfully, this was easy, since a fellow writing friend of mine recently sent me a couple post cards (thanks, friend!). I just needed to find a way to stand them up, since they don’t stand up on their own. Finally I thought of it–binder clips, turned upside down. The perfect thing!

Now I’m ready for a break. For real this time. I’ve already showered, and all my projects, except this blog, are completed for the day. If there’s a lesson for today, it’s that once you get going on something, it’s easy to keep going. This applies to cleaning antique hardware, decorating your home, writing, and even paying your bills. It also applies to creativity. That is, while working at Todd and Bonnie’s this week, I had to get into “creative problem solving” mode. How can I clean this brass? How can I fix this lock? Well, ask your mind to do something, and it will. What’s more, it will often go above and beyond simply because it’s in the mood. And we can fix this, and we can fix this. What’s the skeleton key for unlocking your mind’s creativity or getting it into problem solving mode? How do you get your mind in the mood? Curiosity. Wonder. I wonder if there’s a way to–I wonder what would happen if. In other words, you have to gently ask, and then your mind will go to work.

Ask (nicely) and it is given.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Perhaps this is what bravery really is--simply having run out of better options, being so totally frustrated by the outside world that all you can do is go within.

"