A World Where You Belong (Blog #787)

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For the last two days I’ve been cleaning antique hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. This is turning out to be a chore. (I’m scrubbing my brass off.) Not because the work is difficult, but because there’s a lot involved, like running back and forth to the hardware store for supplies. Today I discovered that all the door hinges are not, in fact, solid brass. Rather, they’re brass plated. Or were, since my cleaning them really did scrub their brass off. Now they’re just ugly metal hinges. But never fear, we decided to spray paint them (satin brass). Some of them are drying now. Others are still in a crock pot being heated up–so I can remove the old (white) paint on them then put the new paint on.

A project like this is clearly a damn process. Take the hardware off. Put it in a crock pot. Scrub the paint off. Then either shine it or spray paint it. Put the hardware back on. This evening I bought three different types of screws for putting the hardware back, then got back to the house and realized two of them were the wrong size. Screws too short–story of my life. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) Anyway, tomorrow I’ll go back to the hardware store and try again. That’s the deal when things are a process–you just keep taking one step at a time until everything is done.

Or until you are.

While working today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said projection is a function of perception. That is, first you perceive or understand something, then you project that perception out into the world. For example, I first understood (mentally) that I needed to spray paint the hinges, then I talked to Todd and Bonnie, then I bought the paint, then I sprayed the hinges. Perception preceded projection. Over the last several years I’ve perceived a number of things in therapy–like, that I needed to set a boundary or have a conversation with someone–then proceeded to project those cognitions into my life and relationships, even on to this blog.

In a lot of New Age and even spiritual material, the world is referred to as a mirror. This isn’t to say that if you witness something horrific on the ten o’clock news that you’re horrific, but it is to say that the way you respond (mentally, emotionally, physically) has a lot to do with you and very little to do with any specific horrific thing you may see. When Donald Trump was elected, I wasn’t thrilled but I wasn’t emotional. Conversely, I had friends who cried. As the fact of the matter was the same for everyone (Donald Trump was elected), and yet there were so many varied responses, I can only logically conclude that those varied responses were due to each individual’s PERCEPTION of what had taken place and what they thought that meant or didn’t mean. My point is that we’re never just responding to what’s “out there,” but rather what’s “in here.”

Another way of saying this is that you don’t see the world as IT IS, but rather AS YOU ARE. Again, if you think the world is a terrible place, that doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person. Scared, frightened, or angry, maybe. My therapist says that if you have unresolved trauma and don’t deal with it consciously, you’ll deal with it unconsciously. “You’ll externalize it,” she said. “You’ll get involved in a bad relationship, become paranoid, or develop a neurosis.” Um, guilty–I’ve done all of the above. When I was a teenager and my dad was in prison, I became a HUGE conspiracy theorist. I despised the government. Looking back, I can see that I was simply overwhelmed and terrified, fearful that what happened to my dad would one day happen to me. But since I either didn’t know how or was unable to experience and give voice to my emotions (my perceptions), they got pushed out on to “the bad guys.” In other words, I wasn’t a scary place, the world was.

Now I think the reverse was true. (I was a scary place. The world was –the world.) Not that ugly things don’t happen in the world (and we all know the government killed JFK), but I know that how I respond to those things absolutely belongs to me. I own my emotions. If I see something horrific and get sad or angry, it’s not because that horrific thing put those emotions into me. No, they were already there. Wayne Dyer used to say that when you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out, and–likewise–when you’re squeezed, what’s inside YOU comes out.

What goes down must come up.

Hoeller says that we project our perceptions (my therapist’s word for projection is externalize) in order that we can interact with them. That is, for decades I believed and felt that the world was an unsafe place to live. This, I’m sure, had to do with our house burning down when I was a child, and then, later, Dad’s going to prison. Or maybe it was my being in a car accident. Pick a trauma. The point is that my mind, body, and emotions had definite reactions to those events, but I did everything I could to shove those reactions down and shut them off. This is impossible to do, of course, at least for very long. What goes down must come up. Again, this can happen consciously or unconsciously, but either way–you must interact with what’s inside you.

Like cleaning antique hardware, this is a damn process.

Having walked this trying-to-be-conscious road for a while a now, I’m just gonna say it’s not fun and it’s not easy. That being said, I’d highly suggest dealing with what’s inside you consciously rather than projecting or externalizing it, since that’s even worse. After all, when you’re problem is projected (over there), what can you do about it–other than become a social justice warrior? But if your problem is inside you, now we’re talking. And yet, this is why the work is hard. Looking at what’s inside you requires owning every action and reaction you’ve ever had. It means sitting with thoughts like, I was terrified. I am terrified. I’m oh-so-very scared. But once you do, I promise, the world that used to appear unsafe and frightening will change. It has to–because you did. Because your perceptions, and thus your projections, did. This is The Good News, that if you can perceive and project an unsafe world, you can perceive and project a safe one, a world where you belong.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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Like Door Knobs, We Exist (Blog #786)

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Currently I’m at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house, where I’ve been all day, cleaning antique hardware. I started this project earlier this week, and whereas it’s not difficult work, it is tedious and time-consuming. First, if the hardware has paint on it, I let it soak in a crock pot. This makes the paint slide right off. Then I scrub, scrub, scrub the paint-free (usually) bronze metal with either Brasso, a mixture of baking soda and lemon juice, or both. At least that’s what I’ve been doing.

I’ll explain.

This afternoon after working for several hours I was ready to call it a day. But then I got obsessed with the fact that the pieces of hardware that had been through the crock-pot process had a distinct pink/copper tone to them and the other pieces didn’t. Rather, they looked like–um–brass. Well, I made the mistake of Googling why. As it turns out, brass is composed of copper and zinc, and heating it up (like in a crock pot) removes the zinc. This is why several pieces looked like copper–they were. Thankfully, this can be fixed. Soaking the copper-toned pieces in a solution of equal parts white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide removes the copper, and then–voila!–you’re back to brass (or steel if that’s what’s underneath).

Here’s a picture of The Solution. It starts off clear, then turns blue, then, sometimes, scummy.

After going to the store to get white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide, I went through the above process, and it worked like a charm. However, it also left my perviously shiny pieces of hardware smudged and dirty. Albeit dirty brass, not dirty copper. And whereas Brasso and baking soda and lemon juice didn’t do the trick, another internet remedy did–white vinegar, salt, and flour. Oh my gosh, y’all, that stuff is magic. It took almost all the dirt and grime off in an instant–no elbow grease required. I was so impressed that I not only used it to clean the used-to-look-like-copper pieces, but also touched up all the others.

Take a look. Notice the door knob in the bottom lefthand corner. That one was technically already clean (it was previously ALL dark), but not new-magic-potion clean like the others in the photo. What a difference!

Part of me feels like I wasted a lot of time earlier this week and this afternoon because I didn’t know about the copper-removing process or the magic brass-cleaning paste. But how can you know what you don’t know? Thankfully, I know now, and that means the rest of the hardware will get cleaned quicker and easier. As I watched The Solution and The Paste dissolve the copper and the dirt and grime before my very eyes, I thought, Better living through chemistry.

Work smarter, not harder.

The Gospel of Thomas says that Jesus said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.” To me this parable means that when you find a better way, you forsake all your previous ways that either weren’t working as well or weren’t working at all. Like, why would I go back to baking soda and lemon juice when The Paste is clearly superior?

In terms of personal growth, I’ve discovered a lot of Big Fish along The Path. For example, setting boundaries, being authentic, and speaking my truth (which, incidentally, is different than speaking my opinion). These things have taken the place (not all the time, but most the time) of the small fish of which I used to be so acquainted–being enmeshed with others, being a people pleaser, and being sarcastic or passive aggressive (or simply silent). Not that these small-fish strategies didn’t work on some level, but I’ve simply found a better way to live in the world and interact with others. It’s called being honest, direct, and kind.

While working with these pieces of antique hardware, it’s occurred to me that I’m not trying to create something beautiful from scratch. Rather, by removing layer after layer of paint, zinc, copper, dirt, and grime, I’m simply revealing something beautiful. Something that was there all along but got covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a door knob. This is a metaphor, of course, for the idea that all of us are radiant on the inside but that our radiance gets covered up due to–I don’t know–neglect or just life. Life is hard on a person. Thankfully, with a lot of work, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of grace, we can get to what’s underneath.

When Queer Eye for the Straight Guy originally came out (see what I did there?), Kyan Douglas said that men need to pluck their nose hairs. Then he motioned to his gloriously kempt face and said, “Do you think this just happens?” With respect to cleaning door knobs or uncovering one’s inner radiance, I’d ask the same question. Do you think this just happens? The obvious answer is no. Even in Jesus’s parable about the man who caught the big fish, the big fish didn’t jump into his boat on its own accord. No, the man had to go fishing. He had to cast his net. He had to pull it in. Then he had to have enough sense to keep the big fish and–perhaps just as important–throw the little fish back, an act analogous to pruning the vine or separating the tares from the wheat. When Aladdin entered the Cave of Wonders, the rules were that he could only touch The Lamp. He couldn’t touch any other jewel or coin.

All this to say–once you figure out what’s Most Important, you can’t let yourself be distracted by, weighed down, or otherwise concerned with piffle or That Which Doesn’t Matter. Recently someone I care a great deal for suggested I could smile more in my daily selfies. I am–they said–after all, beautiful, and some of my pictures don’t do me justice. At one time I would have taken this advice to heart, thinking, I’m doing something wrong. My face is disappointing someone. I should be doing better. I should be smiling more. But as I’ve said numerous times before, this blog and my life are not about outward appearances or presenting myself in a such a way as to make someone else happy or gain their love or approval (even for a moment). Granted, I used to worry about such small things, but have since thrown those fish back into the sea because I’ve found A Better Way. Indeed, once you clear away The Grime, you connect with a certain confidence that allows you not only to simply be who you are, but also to stop feeling like you have to prove yourself–to yourself, anyone else, or the world at large. Like door knobs, we exist. This is enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Books and Abundance (Blog #785)

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It’s 7:45 in the evening, I just got back from dinner, and sometime soon my friend Justin is coming over to hang out and catch up. Because our chats often go on for hours, I’m hoping to be done blogging by the time he gets here. I simply can’t imagine that my brain will feel like waking up and rising to the occasion at two in the morning. Not that I haven’t blogged late at night a hundred times before. God knows. Last night I started at midnight. And whereas I technically finished writing in an hour, I dragged the editing process out until three because I kept “tabbing over” to an online library I discovered. No kidding, they have millions of digitalized books that you can either download or borrow for free. I spent hours comparing my Amazon wish list to the site’s catalog and found over thirty-five books I’ve been wanting!

Lately I’ve been spending more time “collecting” books or searching for them online than I have actually reading them. Not that I haven’t been reading. It just takes so much time. Conversely, downloading a book, or flagging it on a library site, only takes a moment. Anyway, I’ve amassed quite the reading list. And whereas this used to overwhelm me, like, How will I ever read all these?, I’ve realized I don’t have to. There’s not a cosmic librarian or test administrator who’s going to quiz me on what’s in my head. Rather, all these books are here for my pleasure. And the fact that there are SO MANY BOOKS TO POTENTIALLY READ?

That’s just a sign of abundance.

Recently I heard that God is not a miser. That is, you can’t look at life, with it’s thousands of varieties of animals and plants on the earth and millions of stars in the sky and say that it’s cheap or anything but extravagant. This is my point about books. The world is full of information, knowledge, and stories. It always has been and always will be. This is why it’s becoming more and more ridiculous to me when I hear people say that things will never change or that THEIR problem can’t be solved. You’re telling me you live in a universe that can hang a moon in the sky but can’t fix your situation?

I know that my problem for the longest time has been that although I could see the abundance of the universe, I felt disconnected from it. Having been told by religion that I’m a worm and a sinner, a stranger in a strange land, I haven’t exactly felt like I belonged here or was otherwise worthy of experiencing and receiving life’s abundance. But that’s changing for me. Now I believe that, just like the trees and stars, I have a right to be here. Indeed, I am part of life and have a purpose in being here. And just like everyone else, I’m allowed to experience the very best (and worst) that life has to offer.

My therapist says that almost every client she has deals with “poverty mentality” in one way or another. Today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said although poverty mentality can feel good (because we get to feel sorry for ourselves), the truth is that we’re anything but poor. (I’m not talking about money.) Rather, we come into life vastly supported, set up to succeed. Our souls and psyches offer us endless resources. This morning I watched a video about human living fascia, what most people call CONNECTIVE tissue, but what one researcher says is actually CONSTRUCTIVE tissue. Oh my gosh, y’all, fascia is glorious, genius. No kidding, you’re made of a gossamer web of light. My point being that our physical bodies are marvelously made, abundant in their wisdom.

For me, this is where abundance begins–recognizing where I’m already rich beyond measure. Sure, it’d be easy to focus on money, or lack thereof. Everything is about money in the world. But I could have ten times–a hundred times!–the money I have now and still feel poor. Still wake up every day and be totally ignorant of the endless beauty around me, the endless resources in my mind, body, and soul, and the endless potential answers that exist to all my challenges and problems. To anyone’s. So more and more I’m grateful for hundreds of books and millions of stars, for they remind me not only of the abundance of that I am connected to, but also of which I am constructed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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On Handyman Things and Attention (Blog #784)

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It’s just before midnight, and I’d like like to keep this short because I’m tired, covered in bug spray, and generally “done.” That being said, I often say I’d like to keep this short and end up going on and on nonetheless. This is, after all, what writers do–write. Recently I told my friend Marla that I frequently fantasize how conversations will go and imagine every possible outcome (and that sometimes this drives me crazy). She said, “Marcus! You’re a writer. We imagine.” I mean, I was thinking of my wild imagination was a bad thing, but it OBVIOUSLY comes in handy for the line of work I’m in. My point being that although my wordiness can keep me at the keyboard longer than I’d like, I’d rather have too much to say than not enough.

That would be dreadful. (For a writer. Maybe not so much for, I don’t know, a President on Twitter.)

The reason I’m worn out is because–believe it or not–I’ve been working, like manual labor, most the day. This afternoon I did handyman things for Mom and Dad. First, I installed grip bars in their bathroom to make their getting on and off the toilet (the terlet) easier. (Everyone’s gotta go.) I’d been saying I’d do this for months. And maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I think I knew it was because once I started, I wouldn’t stop. That is, today when I got in the handyman mood with the grip bars, I stayed in the mood. Next I installed a smoke detector. Then I fixed a spring on their dishwasher. “What else?” I kept saying.

This evening, for several hours, I cleaned antique door hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. (Outside, which is why I’m covered in bug spray.) A few days ago I put a pile of paint-covered brass hardware in a crockpot with some dish soap. This is a cool trick I learned online–the heat breaks the chemical bonds of the paint, and it just comes right off. Of course, I still had to scrub the hardware today, since the crockpot process leaves the hardware pretty rusty dirty. Again, the internet saved the day. It said I could scrub the hardware with baking soda and lemon juice, so that’s what I did. Worked like a charm.

I don’t have a before photo, so just imagine those decorative plates completely covered in white paint.

After several hours of cleaning and scrubbing (and refilling the crockpot with more hardware), I called it quits. Granted, I could have gone on. There was more to do, and as I said earlier, once I get in the mood, it’s easy for me to keep going. To keep push, push, pushing. But I’m really trying to do better at this. To not cram a week’s worth of work into one day, to not cram a semester’s worth of knowledge into my head in one month, to not cram two days worth of blogging into one night. You know, to stop, dammit. Anyway, that’s what I did tonight at Todd and Bonnie’s. I called it quits. Then Todd and I ate pizza, drank beer.

Now I’m house sitting at a friend’s house, a different friend/house than earlier this week. THIS friend has a hot tub. So whereas, yes, I have other things on my mind, other things I’d like to talk about, I realize that there will ALWAYS be more to talk about, always more to do. So even if I’m in the mood to do these things, so what? Being in the mood, I think, is simply a matter of being focused on something. That is, whatever you fully give your attention to automatically becomes interesting. So I know that I can turn my attention FROM writing TO hot-tub sitting and the world will keep turning. The writing–and everything else–will be there tomorrow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be more discriminating.

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A Long-Lost Friend (Blog #783)

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Yesterday I took a nap at the house where I was house sitting. (Today was my last day.) And whereas the nap was wonderful, I was up until almost four this morning. First I exercised. Then I read. My brain wouldn’t turn off. Eventually I passed out, but then I woke up to go to the bathroom (I’m over thirty), then to let the dog out. Finally, at nine, I stopped trying to go back to sleep. Instead, I made breakfast then read a book while I did laundry, then I started packing. This is one thing about house sitting I don’t like–moving all my things in, moving all my things out. Granted, I could just take one bag, but I’m gay.

Gay men have–so–many–bags.

While staying up last night I listened to a podcast about somatics. As I understand it, somatics is a mind/body approach to healing that encourages tuning into outer and inner physical sensations. Here’s another way of explaining it. Recently I asked a friend, “Where do you live in your body (your chest, your head)?” They said, “I try not to. Like, if I have a pain, I ignore it.” I get this. My go-to response with pain is to push passed it. To hyper focus on whatever task is at hand and hope the pain will go away. But because everything I’ve been reading and leaning about lately (like somatics) has encouraged drawing closer to and even welcoming your pain, I’m doing my best to change this habit.

In my experience, drawing closer to my pain doesn’t always make it go away, but it does make it less than it was before. I suppose one reason for this is because when I’m in pain, there’s the pain, then there’s the fear I have about it. For example, my shoulder has been hurting for months now, and when I get in certain positions, I automatically tense up in order to protect myself. Of course, this doesn’t help my tension headaches or encourage relaxation. But by drawing near and approaching my pain with curiosity, the fear I have dissipates. The tension lessons.

One somatics exercise the podcast recommended was to either sit or lie down and simply notice how your body feels. Is there more pressure on one side than the other? Then notice if you’re uncomfortable at all and if there’s any way you could adjust to feel even slightly better. This was the best thing for me to hear, since I often force my body into uncomfortable positions for the sake of better posture. However, according to the podcast, creating unnecessary tension or pain, for any reason, triggers the body’s sympathetic nervous system, which is associated with fight or flight mode. But if you can position yourself in such a way as to alleviate tension or pain, you can trigger the body’s parasympathetic nervous system. Consequently, so the theory goes, your body will relax on its own.

As last night was the first time I tried this technique, I can’t speak to it definitively. That being said, I have been playing around with it for the last twenty-four hours, and it works as well as anything else I’ve tried. For example, I normally carry a lot of tension in my right neck and my gaze is ever-turned in that direction. Because I obsess about it, I often force myself to look straight on. (This always feels like a fight.) But last night and today I’ve been letting my neck go where it wants to. And here’s the cool thing–not only does my neck feel better, I notice that my entire upper body relaxes and my breathing deepens. It’s like this chain reaction. Calm down one part of the body, and other parts follow.

This afternoon I got a haircut from my friend Bekah, who was babysitting her nine-month-old grandson. After the haircut was over, I thought I was about to leave, but Bekah got a phone call and–just like that–handed me her grandbaby. Y’all, he was the sweetest thing. Often children cry when I hold them, but not this boy. He just hung out. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how smart babies are. Not because they pee on themselves, but because of the way they move, sit up, crawl, and walk. No one has to teach them. They just know what to do. Said another way, their bodies just know what to do.

This is something I’ve really been working to get back to–the inherent wisdom of the body. For so long, because my body’s been sick or in pain, I’ve made it The Enemy. I assumed it hasn’t had The Answers. Consequently, I haven’t been fully present in my body. I haven’t been fully present FOR my body. And yet still it’s continued to work for me, to do its best. Now, as I do my best to approach it as one would a long-lost friend, I absolutely believe it has much to tell me. The Answers. As much as I believe a gay man has many bags, I believe the body has many secrets, secrets it’s willing to share if we will simply draw near to it rather than push it away. No, we don’t heal by pushing any part of ourselves away.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Where Your Treasure Lies (Blog #782)

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For the last two hours I’ve been procrastinating writing today’s blog. I’ve been busy, of course, doing the dishes, letting the dog in and out (make up your mind, honey!), cleaning up my hard drive (it’s too full for me to install an update), surfing Amazon for books (like I need another one). Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with this one simple task–sit down and write. Not because it’s THAT difficult to sit down and write, but because, honestly, I’ve built up a lot of mental aversion to sitting down and writing every day, every damn day. Like, it’s exhausting, and I’m kind of over it.

As I’ve said before, this is my choice. Nobody is holding a gun to my head and making me write this blog. Also, I don’t intend to quit, at least for a while. I’m committed to this process. (Before it’s over I may be committed to an institution.) All that being said, this blog is about my being honest, and I think it’s important to–occasionally–authentically acknowledge how much this project wears me out. I mean, it gives a lot, but it takes a lot. In this sense, I suppose it balances itself out.

This morning I saw my therapist, and we talked about what you and I are talking about now–procrastination, this project, and balance. In terms of procrastination (which my therapist insists “smart people” do), I said that I have several other projects I’d like to tackle, maybe before but at the very least when this one is over. “But,” I said, “it’s like I have this familial issue with essential tremors, and there’s a book about different ways to treat it that’s been on my reading list for over a year. The truth is I don’t want to read it because, what if it doesn’t do any good? As long as I DON’T read it, I can at least tell myself things could get better, and it’s the same with my other projects. As long as I HAVEN’T started them, I can tell myself that’s why I’m not currently succeeding.”

“So it’s fear,” my therapist said.

“UH, YEAH IT’S FEAR,” I said.

My therapist said that, really, we’re just as afraid of succeeding as we are failing. “Stepping into your power is terrifying,” she said. I agree. Just the thought of living a bigger, better life is enough to make me go running for the hills. Because it’s The Unknown, The Unfamiliar, THE UNCOMFORTABLE. I mean, let’s get real, I’ve already experienced the bottom of the barrel. For me, this is The Known, The Familiar, The Comfortable. I’ve already experienced being embarrassed by my station in life. Ugh. My therapist says embarrassment is one of the most difficult emotions to sit with. “But if you can do it,” she said, “you’ll eventually experience confidence–because life balances itself out.”

Recently I mentioned the principle of polarity, the idea that for every hot there’s also a cold. For every up, a down. This is what my therapist was referring to when she juxtaposed embarrassment with confidence. In other words, they are two ends of the same stick. As I understand it, this means that both emotions reside within each of us as potential lived realities, so even if you’ve been hanging out on the embarrassment side of the emotional see-saw, it’s possible to scoot your way over to the confidence side. It’s possible to pick up the other end of the stick.

The same stick you’re already holding, by the way.

Taking a thought or an emotion that’s a source of pain and turning it into a source of strength is what an alchemist would call mental transmutation or turning lead into gold. Joseph Campbell said it this way–“Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave, that was so dreaded, has become the center.” To me this means that ultimately those thoughts, emotions, and situations in my life that have been so difficult for me to experience, truly, have the most to offer me. They’re like–I don’t know–blessings in disguise.

No. That’s not right. Blessings are gifts that come to us uninvited, and I’m talking about something different. Turning lead into gold requires work, The Hard Work. There’s a concept in mythology that if you slay a dragon, you receive its power. If we look at dragons as our shadows, or those parts of ourselves we haven’t fully integrated and transformed (for example, fear or embarrassment), another way to say this would be that if we can tame our dragons, they will work FOR us and not AGAINST us. Imagine how your world would change if the emotional power that used to weigh you down were now lifting you up.

Imagine that.

But back to The Hard Work. Taming dragons isn’t easy. (If it were easy, everyone would do it.) Not because the work itself is that difficult, but because it’s painful (which makes it difficult). It’s painful to experience fear, and it’s painful to experience the death of your illusions. Said another way, it’s painful to experience the death of your identity. What I mean is that I’m embarrassed, I’m weak, and I’m afraid are all ways of labeling ourselves. And whereas they’re not the sexiest of labels, they’re still labels we hold on to. If you don’t believe me, the next time one of your friends says they’re fat or ugly, TRY to disagree with them. They won’t believe you. If they believed you, really, they’d have to change. This would mean going from The Known to The Unknown, scooting from the “I’m ugly” side of the see-saw to the “I’m beautiful” side. Yes, it’s not just that we fear to enter our caves, it’s that we also fear to walk out of them transformed–beautiful, confident, and radiant.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

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On Likes and Dislikes (Blog #781)

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It’s five-thirty in the afternoon/evening, and–believe it or not–I’m blogging. Usually I don’t even start until ten or twelve at night. And whereas I enjoy the quiet of late-night writing, it’s difficult trying to rub two thoughts together when I’m tired. I often have to force myself to stay awake and pound this out, the whole time wishing I were already done, wishing I were reading a book, watching a movie, or–here’s a novel idea–sleeping. Anyway, this is me trying something different.

The problem with this, dear reader, is that I normally write about things that have happened during the day, and writing earlier means there’s less material to work with. An hour ago when I decided I was going to sit down and write (I procrastinated on Facebook until now), I thought, And just what do you think you’re going to talk about, Mister? You haven’t done anything today. But that thought wasn’t true. (A lot of thoughts aren’t.) This morning I shaved! This afternoon my friend Todd and I had lunch then went to a flooring store to pick out vinyl and carpet for a remodeling project of his. When all that was over, I put another coat of stain on the board I mentioned yesterday that I’ll be using for a project in my parents’ bathroom. Then I put my hair in a ponytail.

See. I’ve done a lot.

Hold your applause.

At the flooring store this afternoon, the options were overwhelming. My inner picky perfectionist kept thinking, It’s gotta be just the right thing. Thankfully, Todd was more laid-back, like, Yeah, that’ll work. And that’ll work too. Or that. For him, it was the easiest thing. And whereas I think there’s value in being picky at times, I also think there’s value in being laid back.

I’ll explain.

When I went to look for wood stain for the project in my parents’s bathroom, I was immediately drawn to a certain sample, a dark oak. Well–wouldn’t you know it– it was the one stain they were out of. Frantic, I dug through dozens of cans, and it was nowhere to be found. I actually thought about going to another store to see if they had it in stock. But then–finally–I went with my second choice–espresso. I thought, It’s close enough. No one else will ever know the difference–or care. Just like that, I went on with my life.

My grandpa used to say, “That’s good enough for the girls I go with.” And whereas I’d personally have to modify that statement (because I go with boys), I think it contains a lot of wisdom. For a while I studied a form of meditation that recommended–when you’re not meditating–training your five senses. An example of training your tastebuds would be eating broccoli instead of chocolate cake. The idea behind this suggestion is that our senses are connected to our mind, which often thinks and acts like a wild animal. It says, “Give me sugar, give me wild women (or men), give me–more!” But by training this wild animal–No, we’re going to do what’s good for us–we bring it under our control.

This same form of meditation, or at least the guy who wrote about it, called this working with one’s likes and dislikes. Again, the idea is that most of us are picky–we want our food a certain texture, our coffee a certain flavor (god knows!), our wood stain a certain color, and on and on and on. This is fine, I suppose, but what happens when we don’t get our way, when whatever we want is on back order? At least for me, I often pitch an internal fit. BUT I WANT IT! But does it really matter if I don’t eat one piece of chocolate cake, or have whip cream on my two-percent soy milk caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso, or go with a wood stain that’s one shade darker?

No. No it doesn’t.

The world keeps spinning.

If you haven’t noticed, I post a selfie almost every day. And whereas this may seem like an exercise in vanity, it’s not. I’m as tired of looking at me as anyone else is. Not because I don’t like my face, but because I only have so many poses and feel like I’m lacking in variety. All this being said, posting a daily selfie has been an extremely helpful practice in terms of my personal growth–because of what I’ve been saying about working with your likes and dislikes. What I mean is that I don’t LIKE every picture of myself that I post. In fact, there have been PLENTY of pictures I’ve DISLIKED. Because I was too fat, or had a double chin, or my hair was a mess. You name it. However, by forcing myself to “post it anyway, damn it” for over two years now, that picky, self-critical voice in my head has seriously calmed down. As a result, even when I’m not posting pictures, I have more self-acceptance.

Maybe the selfie thing, or the wood stain thing, or the not eating chocolate cake thing doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. Because here’s the deal. We all know how the mind can get carried away with what it wants. But by starting with something small, you can train your mind to not get carried away. Then when it comes to something big–let’s say you don’t get the job (or boyfriend) you wanted–you can tell your mind, We’re not going to throw a temper tantrum about something that doesn’t matter, and it won’t. If mind-training sounds difficult, it is. But consider that we’re all training our minds constantly. It’s just a matter of whether we’re teaching ourselves to be rigid in our thinking (everything has to be a certain way) or flexible (yeah, that’ll work). Rigid means we’re harder to please. Flexible means we’re easier to please and, therefore, happier.

TEN SUGGESTIONS FOR TRAINING YOUR MIND
1. Skip the dessert.
2. Go for a walk instead of watching television.
3. Turn your phone off.
4. Leave your dirty clothes on the floor (if you’re a neat freak).
5. Pick your dirty clothes up off the floor (if you’re a slob).
6. The next time you go out to eat with a friend, tell the server, “I’ll have what they’re having.”
7. Watch a television program or movie you’re not interested in (and find a way to be interested in it).
8. Listen to someone and don’t interrupt them.
9. Post a photo of yourself you don’t like (and watch the world keep spinning).
10. Think of something you want to do, or buy, or say, then tell yourself, “No.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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Here on Planet Earth (Blog #780)

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This afternoon I lay in the sun while listening to an audio program about one’s Inner Critic. Thirty minutes on each side won’t hurt, I thought. Now I look like a lobster. Heat is radiating from my skin. What did I think would happen? Whatever. Inevitably I burn once every spring/summer, so I might as well get it over with. I’ve got my aloe vera handy. Even though it’s never–not once–kept me from peeling. (And neither have essential oils!) Oh well. Like it’s the worst thing in the world to shed your skin.

I’m speaking literally and metaphorically.

Other than the sunburn, today has been fabulous, easy-going. I read, I stretched. I drank enough coffee to wake up Rip Van Winkle. I’ve been telling my parents for weeks that I’d install grip-bars in their bathroom, and I cut and stained a 2×4 so that after it dries I can attach one of the bars to it. This evening my dad and I went to the gym, then we mixed concrete and set a post in their backyard that we’ll use to brace their fence with once the concrete hardens. I’ve made both these projects out to be “huge things” in my mind, but they’re really not. Granted, it takes time because there are steps involved. (Things have to dry!) But the steps themselves aren’t difficult or complicated.

At the gym, I did knee rehab. During one exercise that involved my TRYING to lower myself down using only my left knee (the one I had surgery on), my leg shook so much that my entire body vibrated. And whereas I wondered if anyone else noticed, I didn’t care. This is where my body is at, and this is what it’s going to take for it to get better. There are steps involved. A process to follow.

A process that involves shaking, apparently.

More and more, I’m grateful for The Process. I know I’ve talked about it a lot over the last two years, this idea that real progress is made slowly, that this requires a wheelbarrow full of patience, and that this sucks. (It does.) But it’s really been on my mind today, I guess because lately I’ve been experiencing The Results. For example, even though my left leg still won’t fully support me while going down stairs, it’s noticeably stronger than it was a month ago. I can use it to run, to jump. Consequently, I feel freer. I’ve been stretching and doing some relaxation/meditation techniques and have been having fewer headaches. There’s still a lot of tension in my neck, it just doesn’t escalate to DEFCON One as often as it used to. Even better, I haven’t had a full-blown, I-don’t-know-what-I’m-going-to-do sinus infection in over a year.

Just as I’ve been experiencing more freedom in my physical body, I’ve also been experiencing more freedom in my mental/emotional one. I don’t have a specific example, I’ve just noticed that I’m happier, less irritable, less nervous, and less stressed. My bad moods pass quicker than they used to. My Inner Critic isn’t AS LOUD.

I have this teeny, tiny thing with wanting everything to be perfect, so I’d like to be clear–things aren’t perfect. Ugh. Perhaps they never will be (at least by my standards). Still, I’ve spent a lot of time on this blog being frustrated with things in my mental, emotional, and physical life that weren’t working and a lot of time searching for hope that these things would improve. And I just think it would be shitty if I never stopped and recognized that–phew–things have gotten better. So this is me saying, by grace and The Hard work, The Process is paying off.

This is me saying thank you.

Recently I heard Caroline Myss say that healing isn’t personal, that–chances are–even if you’re a miserable human being, the cut on your finger or whatever is wrong with your body is going to improve because, simply put, our bodies are programed to get better. The sun shines on the just and the unjust. This concept–healing isn’t personal–has been on my mind lately because I used to believe that everyone else could heal (or succeed or be at peace) but that I couldn’t. That I was somehow the exception to the rule. But having seen some fabulous results lately, I’m now telling myself that good things are just as likely to happen to me as they are to anyone else. Not because I’ve “earned” them (that would be personal), but because good things happen here on planet earth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"That love inside that shows up as joy or enthusiasm is your authentic self."

You Never Know (Blog #779)

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Phew. Today has been go-go-go. This morning I woke up at 8:15(!) to teach a dance lesson at nine. I’m not complaining–it’s nice to be employed–but this means I didn’t get a lot of sleep. Again, this is okay. If someone wants to pay me to to teach the mambo at five in the morning, I’m gonna prop my eyelids open, brush my teeth (because I’m courteous), and get my hips a-movin’.

Thankfully, people don’t normally schedule dance lessons at nine in the morning. But today’s couple, when they originally scheduled, needed to be somewhere. Then, yesterday, when they tried to push it until later in the day, I’m the one who said I’d like to do it sooner rather than later. (Me!) Because I had a family reunion to get to.

The family reunion was for my mom’s side of the family, the side that we haven’t been historically close to. Granted, I know a few cousins (once removed) and second cousins. But, y’all, today I met dozens of relatives–third cousins, fourth cousins–people of all ages. It was the weirdest thing, this whole senior citizen center full of family I’ve never met. It was like, I don’t know, going to Walmart, except knowing you’re related to everyone in the dairy section. I kept thinking I’d probably crossed paths with some of them before but hadn’t realized it. I mean, what’s a relative look like? I still can’t get over the idea that next week I could easily be at the taco truck ordering a chicken burrito and a distant relative could be standing in line behind me without my having any idea.

When the reunion ended, I met my friend Megan to say goodbye. She’s been visiting this week from Israel, and she’s flying back home tomorrow. Who knows when I’ll see her again? I’d say it will be a while, but then again, two weeks ago I wouldn’t have said I’d see her this week. Her whole trip was planned last minute–so she could see her nephew’s graduation. Anyway, this is the cool thing about life–you never know–when you’ll see your friends again, or even whom you’re related to. So hope and be kind. That guy at the taco truck could be married to your third cousin!

This evening I had dinner with a few friends. We ate at a local sushi restaurant that sat us in the back corner of a small room. My friend Aaron joked that we were in sushi prison. Oh well, the food tasted the same. However, just as we were getting ready to pay and leave, the power went out. Like, completely. All of a sudden we were in the dark. Thankfully, no one panicked, and the lights came back on in short order.

Leaving the restaurant, we all went to Target. Aaron and his wife, Kate, have a four-year-old son, and I guess they’d bargained with (bribed) him earlier in the day–if he’d wear a bowtie to a wedding, he could have a Target toy. And whereas he had a fabulous time, the lights were off there too. Well, sort of. See, there was a teensy-tiny tornado that apparently passed through Fort while I was at the reunion today (in a different city), and a lot of people and places ended up without power. Consequently, a number of businesses closed. But not Target–they had backup power. This amounted to–I don’t know–one in every forty florescent bulbs working. Kate kept calling it “Dark Target.”

Now I’m back to the place where I’m house sitting. It’s almost midnight, and I’m really fighting to stay awake. On the way here I noticed that several areas of town are still unlit. No overhead power lights, no traffic lights. Just Dark. And whereas this was a bit unsettling at first, I was reminded that this is what happens on planet earth. It gets dark at night. And just because we’ve found ways to brighten our homes and streets around the clock, that doesn’t mean the world itself doesn’t get dark the way it’s supposed to. That’s the thing with darkness. I’m speaking literally and metaphorically. It’s natural. It doesn’t have to be scary or unsettling. Having fallen in love with staying up late (when I’m not exhausted) to work or look at the stars, I now find the dark quite comforting. It’s quiet, peaceful. I can hear myself think. I can create. In my imagination, anything can happen.

You never know.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.

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On Being in Control (Blog #778)

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It’s five in the evening. Just a bit ago I taught a dance lesson to a couple who are preparing for their wedding. Now I’m reclining outside where I’m house sitting, soaking up the sun. The dog I’m taking care of, who really is adorable, is across the yard, chewing on a giant stick. Just before I came outside, she was barking, barking, barking to come inside and–after I let her in–barking, barking, barking to go outside. Two nights ago my friend Megan couldn’t decide what she wanted to eat at Subway.

Decisions are hard.

Today’s dance lesson was number four for the couple, and we talked about and worked on transitions. Their basic moves are coming along fine–it’s usually not a big deal for couples to learn the basics–but their transitions need work. When going from one move to another, they slow down. They get off beat. (I know, I said get off.) I’m the same way when I learn something new–awkward. If my left leg is used to going forward, but now I need it to go back, that requires effort. Until it doesn’t, of course. That’s the point–at some point, your transitions become quick and seamless. You think, Step back, and your body simply does it without lallygagging or putting up a fuss.

My friend Shauna says that the difference between a professional dance and an amateur dancer is that the professional dancer is able to control all parts of their body simultaneously. Conversely, an amateur dancer can only command so much of their physical body at once. For example, the guy I worked with today could take a step back on his own, but when he danced with his fiance AND tried to take a step back AND send his arms slightly forward at the same time, his step back became exaggerated. As a result, his butt shot back, his head dipped forward, and his posture went from being upright (and correct) to slouched (and weird). I wouldn’t expect it to be any different. Beginners can usually only control one thing at a time.

If that much.

Earlier today I read an affirmation/meditation by Stephan Hoeller that I can’t get off my mind. It said, “If it is the will of my Father to strike down everything I have built in my life, may He do so and do it swiftly. I shall be free of attachment to anything or anyone.” Wow. Talk about a tall order. I shall be free of attachment to anything or anyone. I can’t even begin to list the things and people I’m attached to, the circumstances I THINK or BELIEVE should turn out a certain way. I want THIS to happen. I want THAT to happen. This is normal, I imagine, but the problem with attachments is that they’re directly tied to our experience of peace. For instance, earlier when the dog was barking, barking, barking, I ever-so-briefly got irritated. Make up your mind, honey! Not because the dog was doing anything other than being a dog, but because I was ATTACHED to a certain thought–The dog shouldn’t be barking–that was in direct opposition to reality.

This is an extremely small example–I could go on about being attached to people, relationships, or physical objects–but the point remains. Whenever I want one thing to happen and something else does, I sacrifice my inner peace. If just for a moment when the dog was going nuts, I was thrown off My Center. I went nuts. (The joke in my family is that “it’s a short trip.”) Byron Katie says if the dog’s barking and I think it shouldn’t, “I’m insane.” Not permanently, but in that moment. Why is it insane to think the dog shouldn’t bark? Because IT IS barking. And dogs bark. Just like cats meow (and throw up on your floor), the wind blows (and tornadoes tear your house apart), and bodies get sick (and die). This is reality. These things happen on planet earth.

As I understand it, just like you can practice dancing to the point that you can control all parts of your body at once, you can also work with your mind in such a way to control it too. That is, we think that thoughts are these things that just pop into our heads and we can’t do anything about them. And whereas that’s somewhat true, it’s also true that simply because a thought pops into your head–The dog shouldn’t be barking–that doesn’t mean you have to get carried away by it. This is one of the ideas behind meditation, that you can train your mind to focus on whatever you want it to and that–after enough practice–it will without lallygagging or putting up a fuss. Then if an old resentment comes knocking at your door you can say, “Sorry, not today,” and your mind will think about–I don’t know–chocolate cake. Something that makes you happy. Something that doesn’t steal your peace.

This is the hardest thing you’ll ever learn to do. I certainly don’t have it down. At the same time, I’m working on it. More and more, I think, What’s my peace worth? Am I really willing to let–you name it–a barking dog, a boy, a disappointment, a sinus infection, or my financial status move me off My Center? This, of course, means working on controlling my mind and not letting it be swept away by every damn thing. It means commanding my spirit, saying, “Hey, come back here.” This is The Hard Work. It’s what Jesus was so good at. The guards came to take him away, and Peter got “taken away” by his anger. He cut off a dude’s ear! But not Jesus. He wouldn’t let himself “be moved.” His peace was more important to him than that. Even when they hung him on a cross, he refused to let the outer world change his inner one. This is why he said, “Father, forgive them.” Not to convince God, but to convince himself, to convince his spirit to stay Centered rather than think thoughts like, I shouldn’t be hanging on a cross, or hate others, or chase resentments. Sorry, not today. Talk about a man free of attachment to anything or anyone, even his own life. (Talk about a man free.) Talk about being in control.

They didn’t call him Master for nothing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things are moving as they should.

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