On Memories and Imagination (Blog #757)

This morning I woke up at six-thirty (six-thirty!) to walk my friend’s dog and pick up its poop from the neighbor’s yard. Talk about my glorious life. (Don’t be jealous.) But really, it’s not like it was oh-my-gosh awful or anything. I mean, yeah, it was a little chilly, and I forgot to take a jacket. But the sun was up, the birds were chirping (as the dog was crapping), and spring was in full-bloom. Hell, I even saw a lady out running (running!). Apparently people do this–move, on purpose, with purpose, before seven.

Wonders never cease.

After a short walk with my friend’s dog (maybe twenty minutes?), I went back to bed. Passed out hard for four more hours. Well, not that hard. The dog woke me up several times. You know, they get excited and start barking about any ordinary old thing–passing cars, jumping bunny rabbits, the urge to urinate. My parents’ dog does this, goes absolutely bat-shit crazy every time someone walks by the front window. You think she’d never seen a Girl Scout before. Animals–it’s like everything is new to them.

Since waking back up, I’ve spent the day doing some odd-job work on my computer, as well as watching Netflix–Brene Brown (The Call to Courage) and John Mulaney (Kid Gorgeous at Radio City). John Mulaney was funnier. That being said, he IS a stand-up comedian. Brene Brown is a shame researcher and author. So it’s not really fair to compare them. But then again, life’s not fair.

Or so they say.

Last night and this afternoon I started reading and got through the bulk of Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Three Questions. (Ruiz wrote The Four Agreements. He has a thing with numbers.) And whereas I’m still processing the book as a whole, I’d like to briefly mention a couple things. One, Ruiz says that our memories are a tool we can use, that they should “teach, not torture us.” To me this means that memory can remind me that the stove can burn me and that certain people can too. It tells me, We’ve been down this road before, and it doesn’t end well. In this way, memory can be my teacher and serve its proper function. But when I’m using my memory to go over-and-over a horrific event, or replay something nasty someone said to me, or beat myself up for something I did twenty years ago, I’m misusing it.

Ruiz says we can likewise use our imaginations to help or harm us. That is, we can imagine how we’d like to decorate a room or where we’d like to take our lover to dinner, or we can just as easily imagine that we’re going to get sick and die or that someone (a friend or even a total stranger) hates us. Imagining something good is just as easy as imagining something bad. Well, maybe imagining something good is more difficult if you’ve had a lot of practice at imaging something bad, but, at least in theory, imagination, like memory, is simply a neutral tool, and we each get to decide how we want to use it.

I repeat–we each get to DECIDE how we want to use it.

Recently I read Taming Your Gremlin by Rick Carson, and Rick suggests the following exercise. First, center yourself. (He suggests closing your eyes, focusing on your breath, and simply noticing any sounds, thoughts, emotions, etc.) Then open your eyes and tell yourself, “I just arrived on the planet with a head full of ideas and memories to which I can give whatever importance I choose.”

I love this idea of just arriving on the planet five minutes ago. I “imagine” it’s what dogs and children must feel like–everything is new, bright, beautiful, and exciting. Honestly, I think it’s how we’d all see the world if we weren’t caught up in our heads, obsessing, worrying. But I also like the second part of the exercise, that we can CHOOSE (decide) what the ideas and memories in our heads mean. Recently I told my therapist about losing my cool with a camper at summer camp when I was seventeen and how I’ve felt bad about it ever since. “It sounds like you acted like a seventeen year old,” she said. “I’d let that go.” So I am. I’m moving the event from the “big deal” category in my head to the “that used to be a big deal, but it’s no longer a big deal, and I learned something from it” category. Because there’s no need to continue to punish myself in this present moment over something that’s, well, a figment of my imagination.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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On Dog Crap and Conflama (Blog #756)

It’s ten in the evening, and I’m house sitting for a friend. Periodically their sweet dog comes into the room where I’m glued to my laptop (reading, browsing, downloading, liking), climbs onto the couch with me, and licks my fingers. I mean, she really gives them a good cleaning, gets under my fingernails and everything. How thoughtful. It’s gross and kind of tickles, but I enjoy it. Probably the most affection I’ve had since I don’t know when, and who couldn’t use a little affection in their life?

Or a good hand washing?

I’ve read a number of times that having a dog is good for your health because they introduce new bacteria into your household. That is, they go outside, dig in the dirt, then come back in and spread around all the little critters they’ve picked up. They lick your fingers. My parents’ dog licks my dad’s nose. And whereas it’s like, ick, this is apparently a good thing. From what I understand, bacteria in and on our bodies are responsible for a whole host of beneficial activities, so it’s good to be exposed to a variety of them. Despite most people’s paranoia about “germs.”

So bring on the licking.

Apparently my friend’s dog is too good to pee in her own front yard. Talk about uppity. So the routine is that we go for a walk twice a day, and she pees in OTHER PEOPLE’S front yards. This seems passive aggressive to me, but I’m not getting paid to judge the dog, just to walk the dog. Anyway, despite my bum knee (which really is so much better), I took “the long route” today in order to let my friend’s dog explore a wooded area. This sounds sweet of me, but it wasn’t. I had an ulterior motive. I thought, If the dog craps in the woods, I won’t have to pick it up with a plastic bag. (The crap, not the dog.) So into the woods we went, and I swear to high heaven, that dog spent fifteen minutes eating grass, chasing rabbits, and tinkling on every shrub and patch of mud she could find.

But did she crap? No, no she did not.

I can’t believe I’m talking about this. But seriously, it’s stressful when you take care of other people’s animals. You think, What if something bad happens on my watch? WHAT IF THIS DOG IS CONSTIPATED?! (What then?) So it’s this big relief, um, anytime there’s a big relief. You think, Phew. My work is done here.

Frustrated with the dog’s inability to poop on my command, I led her out of the woods. Two minutes later she stopped on a neighbor’s freshly manicured lawn and did her business. Twice. And whereas I was relieved that she was relieved, I also had to pick it up. (The crap, not the dog.) Fortunately, I’d brought plastic bags (pooper-scoopers) just for this occasion. Good lord. What has the world come to? Human beings are the pinnacle of creation/evolution–we’ve put a man on the moon–and yet we’ve nothing better to do but follow around our little canine friends just waiting for them to take a dump so we can pick it up with these thin little crap sacks? Talk about the royal treatment (for them, not for us). And our four-legged friends aren’t even appreciative. Oh no. They poop in one yard and pee in another, never grateful or even mindful that we’re behind them cleaning up their messes.

Granted, they do lick our fingers.

Lest it sound like I’m bitching (and what would be so wrong with that?), I’d like to be clear–this is part of my current job. Plus, it could be worse–my friend could have a pet horse. Can you imagine taking Mr. Ed for a walk? Hell, I’d need a Glad Bag to clean up the mess.

Now my friend’s dog is asleep, and I’ve been told she’s going to wake me up at six-thirty in the morning to go for another walk. I am not looking forward to this, but again, it’s part of the gig that I’ve agreed to. Plus, I can always take a nap later. I really have no idea what tonight’s blog is “about.” I sort of went on a tangent. That being said, there is this. My friend says they’re a bad dog parent. I guess because their pup still chews on shoes and–I don’t know–won’t crap in their own front yard. Whatever, dogs are dogs. But it does make me think that as humans (the pinnacle of creation/evolution), we often end up leaving messes in other people’s yards, metaphorically speaking, because we haven’t learned to pick up after ourselves.

My therapist says she when she was deep into her own therapeutic work, she didn’t have many friends. (This may still be the case.) But she said that was (and is) okay because she doesn’t have a lot of conflama either. (Conflama is conflict-and-drama, Mom.) In other words, she’s cleaned up her messes (she’s clear that she’s never been a perfect person), and also set boundaries with others (like one of the neighbors today who put a sign in their yard–please keep your dogs off my grass). This has been my experience too. The more I do The Hard Work, the less conflama I have in my life. Looking back, I see that so much of my suffering (anxiety, stress, nervousness, tension, strife) was, well, optional. Now when I see friends and family putting up with people who take advantage of them I think, You know you don’t have to do that. But no one could have convinced me of this truth before I was ready to live it, so I try to keep my mouth shut, pick up my own crap, and not worry about anyone else’s.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Stop buying your own bullshit.

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On Starting to Believe (Blog #755)

Today’s (and some of yesterday’s) thoughts–

1. On families

Recently my mom came into my room while I was lying on my bed, like I am now. “Wow,” she said. “You look so much like my dad.” (Grandpa died nearly twenty years ago.) Then she just stood there for a minute, taking it in, I guess. And whereas it was slightly weird for me in the moment to be compared to someone else, later I felt really proud. Not that he didn’t have his problems, but Grandpa was a good man, so I’m glad to look like him. I know my mom loved him a lot. Anyway, it’s cool to think about how our ancestors not only give us life but are also still with us in some way, how they leave their mark, both physically and emotionally. More and more, I’m grateful for this unseen connection.

2. On being famous

Yesterday I bought a copy of the spring issue of Bass Angler Magazine. This is something I never thought I’d do ever–buy a fishing magazine–but I did because get this shit. Remember last fall when I traveled to the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee for a travel writing job? Well, my friend and fellow journalist Jill was there for the same reason, and she ended up writing an article for Bass Angler about the area and places a person could go fishing–and used three photos with me in them!

So I’m pretty much famous now.

3. On fine tuning

Last night and this morning I made more progress on the puzzle I’ve been working on. Last night one of the sections I worked on was all water–just different shades of blue and green. At first I thought, I’ll never get this. All the pieces look the same. But then as I took a closer look, I could distinguish several differences in the shading and shadows. Today after I took the below picture I noticed one of the pieces I’d connected didn’t go where I put it. I thought, Wait a damn minute. You don’t belong there.

This made me think of writing, the way once I get a general idea of what’s going on with a piece I’m working on, then I can tweak and fine tune it. Likewise, it made me think of my relationships and how I interact in the world. This afternoon I read a book that said we’re allowed to play around with our emotions and how we respond to and act on them. So often we get stuck in patterns of behavior–the big picture–we think, this is who I am–but it’s not like we’re set in stone. We can take a closer look at thing, maybe see something we didn’t see before. We can say, No wait, this doesn’t fit here, in this situation.

That is to say, we can change.

4. On bodies

Speaking of being set in stone, today I listened to an interview with David Berceli about how the body responds to trauma. I’ve mentioned David’s work before, here. In today’s interview, David said that our bodies are designed to survive, and that if we’re somehow threatened and can’t fight or flee, we’ll otherwise freeze. That is, our bodies will physically contract, as if into a ball. This applies whether someone throws a rock at us or we’re in a car accident. The good news is that this is how our bodies shield us from harm. The bad news is that sometimes they stay contracted even after a particular threat or trauma is over. Think of any tight muscles you may have in your hips or neck. It’s not that your body can’t relax, it’s just that it hasn’t gotten the message that it’s okay to yet.

One of my takeaways from this interview is that our bodies are always trying to protect us. So often I get frustrated with my tight hips and shoulders, but it helps to think that perhaps they’re tight because my body is trying to help me rather than hurt me. At least at one time, this was the best my body could do. And this is a message I keep getting over and over again, that our bodies are on our side. And whereas I’ve been slow to come around to this idea–it’s much easier to think that my body is the exception to the rule–I’m starting to believe it, that not only is my body on my side, but that it’s also smart enough to heal itself, to heal us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sickness and health come and go, just like everything else. It's just the way life is."

On Intuition, Seeing Clearly, and Being Responsible (Blog #754)

This afternoon I saw my therapist and told her about my recent run-in with a guy who aggressively asked me, “What do YOU do for a living?” Her jaw dropped. She also said I handled it well. (I told him I was a dance instructor and that, yes, you COULD earn a living being one.) She also said that more and more I’d know in the moment, like I did then, when someone was being aggressive, passive aggressive, or otherwise shitty.

This is one of the by-products of doing The Hard Work and learning to see yourself more clearly–you learn to see others more clearly. What I mean is that several years ago it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to me that this fella was sizing me up and not simply asking a benign question. Maybe a couple years ago I would have figured it out a few days later. Like, Wait a damn minute, that wasn’t very nice. But the other day, I knew instantly.

That’s how fast your intuition works if you let it.

The part I’m still working on is how to respond–in the moment–when someone crosses a boundary. After all, I’ve had a lot of practice at playing aloof or being Mr. Nice Guy. And whereas I knew with Mr. Slick (as I called him in therapy today) what path I wanted to take (subtle assertiveness versus all-out war), I don’t always know what to do when it happens with people I’m familiar with. For example, months ago someone I care about was being passive aggressive with me, and it really caught me off guard. Not that this person hadn’t done it before, but I hadn’t SEEN IT before. I had my blinders on. To put it bluntly, I’d been lying to myself. We all do this–because once you acknowledge the truth, you’re responsible for what you do with it.

This is the part that sucks.

In the above case, I ended up calling the person out for being passive aggressive. This is something I’ve had to do more times than I can count in the last five years, since starting therapy. Not that I take every opportunity to do so (because I truly don’t love it), but I’ve seen the results of not acknowledging and acting on my truth (the results are always a shit-show), and I’m not willing to do that anymore. Again, I don’t attend every fight I’m invited to, but I’ve learned that I and I alone am responsible for the quality of the relationships in my life. As the saying goes, “We teach people how to treat us.”

Today I told my therapist that I think of her as a ninja. That is, at least in my mind, she doesn’t take any crap from anybody and she’s always lightening-fast at both assessing situations and responding to them. Her motto is “if you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready.” But today she told me (and she’s said it before) that plenty of things catch her off guard. “Life is always going to up the ante to keep you on your toes,” she said. Likewise, she said she lets plenty of “bad behavior” slide either in the interest of keeping the peace or “I’m just not ready to deal with it.” “Sometimes it’s enough to SEE CLEARLY what’s going on, even if you don’t do anything about it,” she said.

When she does confront, she says she matches the energy coming at her. If they’re subtle, she’s subtle. If they’re full-on, she’s full-on. To this point, I think it’s worthwhile to say something about the attitude in which you confront a person should you choose to do so. That is, I’ve learned that you can have a confrontation without cutting someone off at the knee caps. You can say, “This is a problem for me” without calling them a low-life bastard. This afternoon I listened to an interview with psychologist Robert Augustus Masters, and he said that ANGER is actually connected to your heart and can be expressed without being unkind. AGGRESSIVENESS, on the other hand, isn’t connected to your heart and often forgets the humanness of the other. That is, there’s no heart, no humanity, in aggressiveness. A (seemingly unrelated) book I read this afternoon juxtaposed ASSERTIVENESS and AGGRESSIVENESS, suggesting assertiveness as the kinder, more human-to-human option for confrontations.

But back to SEEING MORE CLEARLY. Maybe that sounds nice. I imagine we all want or pray for GUIDANCE in almost every area of our lives at one time or another. We think, What am I supposed to do? But this is the not-nice part about intuition. Again, we’re responsible for the information we’re given. If someone is mistreating you and all your alarm bells are going off and telling you to tell them, “Step back,” “Back up,” or “Up yours!” but you don’t, what makes you think your intuition (or gut or guidance) is going to talk to you when you really need it? If you asked your partner to take the trash out every week for a year and they didn’t do it, would you keep wasting your breath? No, you wouldn’t, and neither will you intuition. So if you want it to talk to you lightening-fast, you have to listen to it.

You have to take your trash out.

Being responsible for yourself is a full-time job and doesn’t pay very well.

Again, this sucks and is no fun. Because listening to yourself is–by definition–a lonely endeavor. Self-empowerment is not group-empowerment. Plus, seeing clearly means the end of your illusions, about yourself and others, about people you might like. Not that you don’t entertain or love the passive aggressive (or whatever) people in your life, but the dynamics shift when you start to call bullshit. Maybe for the worse, hopefully for the better. Enforcing boundaries is a crap shoot. (Life is like a box of chocolates.) The other person could rise to the occasion (like an adult), pitch a hissy fit, or do nothing. But you’re not responsible for what other people do or don’t do. You’re only responsible for yourself. This, of course, is a full-time job and doesn’t pay very well. At least in dollars. But it does pay in a greater sense of self-worth and value, more peace of mind, and richer, truer relationships with much less drama.

This is worth all the effort.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"There are a lot of benefits to being right here, right now."

On Something Good (Blog #753)

Wow. I’ve spent the last eight hours–except for a few bathroom breaks–on the futon in my family’s spare room, either working on a puzzle, reading, or–now–blogging. I’d intended to only work on the puzzle for an hour, but ended up working on it for–I don’t know–four. You know, I got focused. I kept thinking, One more piece.

While working on the puzzle, I listened to a couple podcasts/interviews about trauma and/or healing. One was with David Bullard and discussed something called “blink-flash” meditation, which involves 1) thinking of a mild to moderate stressful event (anything that makes you cringe to focus on), then 2) thinking of something pleasant (like a walk in the woods or your favorite song) while 3) crossing your arms and alternately tapping your shoulders and blinking your eyes (three blinks per set for several sets).

Sounds crazy, but I tried it, and the anxiety I felt around my original event lessened. (You’re supposed to rate the event on a scale of one to ten before and after the thinking/tapping/blinking part.)

Another podcast/interview I listened to was with Richard C. Schwartz, the founder of Internal Family Systems, a psychological/healing/spiritual approach I’ve been absolutely fascinated by lately. Here’s a link to the interview if you’re interested. IFS proposes that we all have different “parts” of ourselves that are longing to be listened to and understood and that when we do listen to and understand them, they essentially transform from an enemy to a friend. For example, someone’s angry part may just be trying to protect them from getting hurt again. Schwartz says that the ego that many psychological and spiritual disciplines refer to is essentially our parts, specifically our “protective” parts, and that rather than trying to rid ourselves of it, we should find out what it has to say. I’m paraphrasing, but he says, “Jesus welcomed the outcasts in the outer world. I’m asking you to welcome the outcasts in your inner world.”

Earlier this evening I finished reading Explain Pain, a book about how–in the majority of cases–pain is created in our brains (and not just our bodies) as a way to protect us. One of my takeaways from the book is that if you have a particular pain (in your neck, let’s say), it can be useful to notice when it does and doesn’t hurt. For example, if it hurts to turn you head, you might notice that it only hurts to turn your head when you’re sitting up, but not when you’re lying down. Along this line, the book suggests trying to find ways to reach the same position (head turned) without experiencing the associated pain. Like, you could sit in a swivel chair and turn your lower body while holding your head still. Or move your eyes first, then let your head follow (instead of moving them both at once). Or hold your mouth open while you turn your head.

As I understand it, the idea behind these suggestions is that our brains often associate certain movements with certain (painful) outcomes. Maybe you were in a car accident, so it thinks, “It’s not safe to turn my head.” So it creates pain as a protective mechanism. But if you “slip in the back door” and create the same outcome by getting there in a different way, your brain will get the message that “this (end result/position/movement) doesn’t have to hurt.”

Currently it’s 9:20, and I’m overwhelmed by all I’m learning. My brain is mush, like a nice bowl of grits. One the one hand, all this information is exciting. On the other, I’m worried that I “won’t get it” and that “it’ll work for everyone else, but not for me.” Of course, these thoughts are welcome. Also, I’m telling myself something I saw on Facebook recently–I haven’t come this far to only come this far. In other words, everything I’m learning is just another piece of the puzzle, and it’s all adding up to something. What that is, I don’t know exactly. But more and more, I think it’s something good.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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The Correct Response Is Thank You (Blog #752)

This afternoon I taught a dance lesson at my friend Bonnie’s, then Bonnie and I spent the rest of the day catching up. We covered all the things–thoughts, feelings, beliefs, relationships, movie quotes. And whereas I don’t intend to reproduce our entire conversation here, I would like to further process a few things we discussed that have been on my mind since.

And then I’d like to go to bed.

1. My routine

Since our conversation lasted until late in the evening, I told Bonnie I wished I’d already blogged. Along those lines, I said that although I’m really proud of my every day writing streak and never regret having written, there are plenty of days when it wears me the fuck out. Today, for example. Currently it’s one-thirty in the morning, and I’d much rather be passed out than trying to write a coherent sentence. Like, what a lovely day today would have been if I’d simply taught a dance lesson, visited with my friend, then gone to bed. Instead, I came home after midnight and went to work. Granted, this was and is my choice, I’m not complaining, but as I’ve said before, I could do some things to make this easier. Like blogging during the day when I’m fresh. Because I’ve been talking lately (for the last two years) about being more gentle with myself, and I actually think it’s quite abusive for me to push-push-push my body to work when it’s tired-tired-tired.

2. On compliments

Another thing Bonnie and I discussed were compliments, in part because I gave my dad a compliment this morning (that had been given to him by a friend of mine), and he made a self-deprecating joke in response. (My dad jokes a lot). Maybe we all do this at times, brush off the kind words of others, squirm when they say something nice. But I told my dad that it’s possible my friend really meant what they said. Despite my own insecurities about my age, looks, talents, and status in life, it’s possible (possible!) that people who say nice things about me (my body, skills, character, personality) are sharing what’s true for them rather than simply blowing smoke up my ass. After all, people are allowed to have opinions.

Once a friend told me that when someone praises you, you don’t have to dismiss it, nor do you have to take it as an opportunity to brag on yourself further. Like, “Oh yeah, not only am I a handsome devil, but I can also bake one hell of a strawberry shortcake.” Rather, they said, the correct response is “thank you.”

3. On my situation

Over the last two years, I’ve made a lot of jokes about my being single, basically unemployed, and living with my parents. At the same time, I recognize (and sometimes discuss with Bonnie) the fact that my current situation is largely by my choosing. That is, if I REALLY WANTED to be making more money or living somewhere else, I could find a way to make it happen. Instead, I’ve chosen to use this time to focus on other things–my personal growth and this writing project, for example–other things I’ve deemed more important. And not that I’ll never make a joke about my situation again, but I’m working on not being fundamentally ashamed of myself or where I am in my life. Because I’m actually really proud of who I am and what my priorities are. Given the chance to do it again, I wouldn’t change a thing. So I’d like to start owning that. To stop judging myself for something I’d willingly choose to do again. To stop saying, “This is my life” as an apology and start saying, “This is my life, thank you.”

I’m single–thank you.
I’m basically unemployed–thank you.
I’m living with my parents–thank you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

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On Emotions and Pain (Blog #751)

Currently I’m out-of-town, sitting outside at a restaurant, waiting for a dance to start at 7:30. It’s 6:00 now. I plan on driving home after the dance, and because that will be late, I’m blogging now, before the sun has gone down. I’d like to start doing this more often, blogging when I’m coherent and not exhausted and, therefore, irritable, upset, and distracted. We’ll see how it goes. I have a lot of practice blogging during the wee morning hours, and there’s certainly something to be said for writing a blog about your emotions when you’re, well, emotional.

I’ve been emotional all day. One minute I’ve been sad. Lonely. The next I’ve been laughing out loud, totally content to have the day to myself. Recently I adopted the motto “all parts are welcome,” so I guess I can’t complain when different parts (or thoughts or emotions) show up. That is, far be it from me to host a party and not attend to my guests. Not that it’s fun or comfortable to feel upset or grief, but these are the ingredients of our lives, and–in my experience–if you dampen one emotion, you dampen them all. Want to feel less joy? Shove down your sadness. It’s that simple.

I don’t like this fact any more than you do.

I spent this afternoon looking at books. I didn’t buy any (believe it or not), but I went to three stores. Before that I had brunch (pancakes and eggs) and read a book. Well, half of one–Explain Pain by David S. Butler and G. Lorimer Moseley. Honestly, it’s one of the most fascinating things I’ve read lately and explains a complex topic–pain–simply. I’m not to the “what to do about it” part yet, but the book proposes that whereas, yes, sometimes pain is due to nerve damage, structural or joint problems, or damaged tissue, this is just as often (if not more so) not the case. That is, there are plenty of instances in which there’s structural deterioration or injured tissue without pain. For example, when I tore my ACL, I didn’t feel a thing. Granted, I had some adrenaline flowing, but my knee didn’t hurt even after my adrenaline calmed down. Even though I’d severed an entire ligament.

The book says we don’t have pain centers or, um, pain buttons in our bodies. Also, just because you cut your finger, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll experience pain. Indeed, once my neighbor threw a hammer over our fence, and despite the fact that it hit my head, I didn’t start crying until I saw blood several seconds later. According to the book, this is because the meaning we ascribe things has a huge influence over what our bodies feel. Just as importantly, the meaning our brains ascribe things is what ultimately determines whether or not we feel pain. This is because–apparently–our bodies send signals to the brain when “something” is wrong. A cut finger, for example. Then the brain interprets that information and decides how to respond. To be clear, it has a lot of choices. It could cause you run away; it could cause you to cry. But if the brain thinks that the most appropriate choice is for you to feel pain, then that’s what you’ll feel.

In other words, to quote the book–no brain, no pain.

The book says that the basic rule of pain is that if your brain perceives a threat–if it thinks that you’re in danger, Will Robinson–you’ll feel pain. Said another way, if you feel pain, it’s because your brain thinks you’re in danger. This goes against a lot of historic wisdom, of course, but it makes sense to me. Again, because of what I experienced with my knee. Also because of people who experience pain or sensations in limbs they’ve had cut off or were never born with. Clearly in those situations the brain (and spinal cord and nervous system) are involved in the creation of physical sensation and/or pain.

I can’t wait to learn more.

This might be a stretch, but I think this “pain being related to feeling threatened” thing could be applied to our emotions. For example, this morning while getting ready at my hotel, I was dialoguing with myself about why I’ve historically felt the need to bend over backwards for certain people in my life even when my efforts were clearly fruitless. Suddenly I had a vision of an applicable memory from my childhood, and a voice in my head said, “Because if we don’t, they won’t love us.” Then I started crying. More and more, the release of tears is my signal that I’ve hit on something deep-down true. For example, when I read that pain is often felt because we feel threatened or “not safe,” I also cried.

Ugh. So much of my life I’ve felt “not safe.” Not that I feel ever-moment terrified, but I can never quite relax. It’s like my muscles are always tight, more tense than they need to be, ready to fight or flee. I can only breathe so deep. Granted, this has gotten a lot better. It IS GETTING a lot better. More and more, there’s a lot of relief in understanding that even when it’s emotional or in pain, my body is trying to help, trying to send me a message. Sweetheart, something is wrong. We need you to take another look at this. Something isn’t working for us. So if for no other reason than the fact that my strategies thus far haven’t been working for me either, I’m now making all the more gentle effort to turn my ear inward and simply listen, to finally hear and connect with my inner wisdom.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is progressing as it should.

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On Making a Living (Blog #750)

Currently it’s two in the morning, and I’m out-of-town, at a hotel. I’m exhausted. I drove ten hours today, total, in order to attend a funeral. For a friend’s father-in-law. It was good, but I’m tired. And stuffed. After I checked into my hotel, I walked to a local diner and ate chicken and waffles. And two beers. Oh my gosh, it was so much food. (But that didn’t stop me from eating it.) The waiter said, “I’m not sure what part of the chicken that is.” I said, “I think it’s the whole chicken.” Seriously, my insulin is working overtime.

Tonight’s blog is number 750 (in a row), and next to the chicken and waffles, there’s only one thing I want to talk about. I’ll explain. At the funeral, a few friends asked me what I was up to these days. “Writing,” I said. One friend asked–out of curiosity–if that could be a full-time gig. “For some people it can be,” I answered. “And I hope that’s the case for me. Regardless, I’m willing to give it a shot and see what happens.”

Later I was introduced to a stranger, a man in a nice suit. After he shook my hand and got my name, his first question was, “What do YOU do?” And whereas I realize this is a common question, it set me on edge, since it felt like it was said not out of curiosity, but as a way to size me up. Well, wait. I trust my gut. It WAS said as a way to size me up. Anyway, I didn’t even mention writing because I didn’t think he could handle it. “I’m a dance teacher,” I said.

“You can make a living at that?” he said.

Feeling threatened, I stiffened my bottom lip, lowered my voice, and slowly said, “You sure can–believe it or not.” Then I just sat there. Later one of my friends said I handled it graciously, but I wish I’d said, “I JUST SAID I did it for a living, asshole, and I’m CLEARLY sitting here–still living.”

Of course, the guy was asking if I made any money, if I could pay my bills. I grant that we’re all curious about these sorts of things. I also grant I’m hypersensitive to the topic because I haven’t been working or getting paid as much as I used to, when I owned the dance studio. But this evening while eating my chicken and waffles, I pulled out the program from today’s funeral and thought about how simple it was–the name of the deceased, when they were born, when they died, where they were buried, who sang and played the music today, and Psalm 23. A man lived over sixty years on the earth, and that was it. Anyway, I thought about what emphasis that one guy put on “making a living” and then thought about how I’d feel if that phrase were etched on my tombstone.

Marcus Coker–He made a living.

Again, I know we all have to put bread on the table, but the older I get, the more important it is for me to make a life rather than a living. Said another way, since I’m already alive (we all are) and an expression of life itself, my goal–more and more–is to fully express my soul, spirit, or life. Whatever you want to call it. I told one of my friends today that there’s part of me that KNOWS I’m meant to be writing. I’m not saying I’m meant to make a million dollars writing, but I know that if I get to the end of my life and haven’t pursued this to the best of my ability, I’ll feel regret. I can’t say that about dance. I love it, but I don’t think it’s “why I’m here.” At the same time, it does bring me joy, just like writing does. And this is becoming my gold standard–to only do things I love. Not that I’ll never do something just for money, but I won’t get stuck there again. I won’t sell out again. Being poor sucks, but not being true to yourself sucks worse.

Making a living. What a ridiculous concept. I am living. You are living. We’re all living. The question is, “Are we living joyfully? That is, are we doing what brings us joy? (Are we living out of our hearts?) Or are you just paying our bills?”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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On Rising Again (Blog #749)

Last night I dreamed that I was at a funeral, sopping wet. I’d just gone for a dip in a lake. Anyway, the funeral was upstairs, and every now and then I’d go downstairs, to a concrete, bunker-like basement where my therapist was. My intent was to change there. Since my therapist had marked one room as just hers (it had her name on it), I used the other rooms. Once while I was in the basement, I did some writing. Another time I recharged my laptop. Then I yelled at my therapist’s secretary, who was offended that I didn’t want to sleep with her.

Come on, lady, I’m gay.

This afternoon I went to the library to sync my laptop files with my online files. I can do this at home with my hotspot, but it eats up my phone data and takes forever. But since the internet at the library is super fast, I can get it done there in a jiffy. Which I did. This satisfied my inner perfectionist, who likes all my files arranged just so, safe and secure.

Later, at home, I combed through some of the digital (mostly non-fiction) books I have on my laptop and got overwhelmed because there are so many I haven’t read. It felt like I needed to read them all, like, yesterday. Finally I thought, Fuck reading, closed my laptop, and went to the gym. There I processed my need to be constantly reading and learning and was able to find compassion for that part of me that thinks it isn’t enough, doesn’t know enough. (I also did a funny-looking exercise for my neck that involved holding an inflated ball against the wall with my head. See above photo.) Then I talked to the part of me that always pushing me to learn–my inner student–and asked it to back off. “I love learning,” I said, “but you’ve become a slave driver. Give us a break, will ya?” It said it would.

We’ll see what happens.

My “not enough” part said sometimes it’d rather put together a puzzle than read a book, so when I got home from the gym, that’s what I did. Well, after dinner. But here’s a picture of my puzzle progress. Personally, I think it’s coming along nicely.

Now it’s after midnight, and I’m doing laundry. I need to keep this short because I didn’t get much sleep last night–I was up until six in the morning (because of the full moon?)–and I’m tired. Plus, I have to get up early tomorrow. Yuck. I’m not looking forward to it. Oh well, Jesus had to get up early on Easter weekend, so if it was good enough for him, it might as well be good enough for me. At the very least, I probably shouldn’t bitch about it, especially considering the fact that tomorrow I’ll be rising out of a waterbed and not a grave.

But I digress.

In terms of last night’s dream, I think it’s a reminder about balance. I’ll explain. Personally, I associate funerals–at least historically–as a place where I can emote. That is, for the longest time they were one of the few places I could cry. (Now I can cry anywhere.) So I think they represent that part of my life where I’m now paying the back taxes my therapist says I owe with respect to grieving. And all the better that I was sopping wet in the dream, since water represents the unconscious. Like, things are coming up.

As for the fact that I was going down to the bunker-like basement to write and recharge, I think this represents my need to rest (and that this is a safe and secure time in my life for me to do so). A part of me would love to emote all at once and get it over with–just like part of me would like to be reading or learning all the damn time–but another part knows I need to slow down and re-juice my batteries. Balance. And whereas I haven’t quite figured out the door my therapist marked as hers, I’m guessing it has something to do with healthy boundaries. Or perhaps that there’s a part of my subconscious (my basement) that I’m not yet ready to go into and “change.”

Patience, my dear.

Lastly, there was the secretary who wanted to sleep with me. The one I yelled at. This probably just represents real life. Not that my therapist’s secretary wants to sleep with me (besides, it wasn’t my therapist’s real secretary in the dream), but over the years there have been A NUMBER of ladies who’ve wanted more from me than I could give them. Because I’m gay. Like, not just a little bit, but a lot. Like, it’s never changing. Even though one of my former students told me (and my boyfriend at the time) that she though it was a phase. Ugh. Maybe if I’d yelled at her, I wouldn’t be yelling at figments of my imagination now in my sleep.

That’s what I know now that I didn’t know then. That student’s behavior was inappropriate. This afternoon I listened to a talk about micro-aggressions, which are “little things” that people do to cut you down. This can be anything–passive aggressive comments, looking at you judgmentally, dismissing your opinion, interrupting you, or entering your personal space without permission. Anyway, the idea is that normally micro-aggressions are unconscious, both to the aggressor and the aggressee. That’s why the aggressee only thinks about it later. Wait a damn minute, that was rude, that hurt. So, as always, life is about learning as we go. It’s about thinking, Yes, I’m coming along nicely. Emoting a little, resting a little. Getting it wrong one day, then trying over the next. Not being enough or having a voice for years, then gradually finding your Self. Rising–again and again and again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you’re making yourself up to get someone else’s approval–stop it–because you can’t manipulate anyone into loving you. People either embrace you for who and what you are–or they don’t.

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If You Want to Shut Up Your Inner Child, Give It a Donut (Blog #748)

What to say, what to say? Some days, believe it or not, I feel like being quiet. Not that I don’t almost always have an internal dialogue going on, which is basically what this is, but I don’t always feel like sharing it. That’s one thing I’ve become distinctly aware of since starting this blog. In the beginning, it was easy to imagine that it was just me here, working out my thoughts on digital paper. But after two years of this project, I can’t fool myself like that anymore. People read this. I don’t always know who or how many, but people read it.

My writing friend and teacher Anita says you can’t write with your mom or dad looking over your shoulder. That is, you can’t worry about what someone else is going to think of what you say. For me that means that if I want to say fuck, I say fuck. Not that I NEVER censor myself in terms of what’s appropriate to talk about here (I do), but if I decide to talk about a subject, I try to do so as authentically as possible (in my authentic, fuck-saying voice) and let the chips fall where they may. And whereas I have received some pushback a few times over the last two years for things like my filthy mouth and what I choose to wear on a daily basis, it’s really been very little.

In discussing this online criticism with my therapist, we’ve decided it’s largely just part of the territory. Years after uploading hundreds of educational dance videos to YouTube, I continue to get both praise and flack. One day a stranger says, “This is exactly what I was looking for,” and the next someone says, “Use a damn microphone!” So it’s just part of it–if you’re visible in any way, you’re going to be criticized. That being said, you’ll also be complimented. In my experience, at some point, it all sort of neutralizes. Not that you become unaffected by what other people say, but that it doesn’t matter so much. Because, hopefully, you’re not doing whatever you’re doing for someone else’s response anyway.

You’re doing it for yourself.

This afternoon I read more about Internal Family Systems, a psychological/healing approach by Richard C. Schwartz. The basic idea is that we all have “parts” of ourselves that behave in different ways, often in opposition to each other, and that rather than ignoring or trying to change a part of ourselves (the slob, for example), we should get to know it. That if we do, it will transform from a perceived enemy to a friend, or, in the language of archetypes, that it will move from the shadow to the light.

Today I read that our parts can basically be divided into three groups–exiles, managers, and firefighters. Exiles are those parts of ourselves that we’ve banished because we find them shameful, embarrassing, weak, or vulnerable. Think of your inner child. At their core, our exiles are our most open, sensitive, creative, and intimacy-seeking parts, but we’re often afraid to listen to them or display them to the world because we’re afraid of being hurt (again).

Managers and firefighters are the parts of ourselves that exist to protect our exiles, although they go about it in different ways. Recently I spoke of building walls around your heart, and this is apparently what managers do. That is, they keep others at a distance to keep from being hurt (again). At the same time, managers are essentially people pleasers. They are the parts of ourselves that seek approval from others, put others first, and beat ourselves up in order to avoid loss from the outside. That is, your managers are those voices in your head that tell you you’re fat and lazy–not because they hate you, but because they’re afraid that if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be loved.

Again, firefighters also protect your exiles. But whereas managers are proactively trying to protect them, firefighters are reactively trying to protect them. That is, if and when you do start feeling shame, embarrassment, weakness, or vulnerability (or anything else that sucks), the firefighters are your parts that say, “Mayday, mayday! Eat chocolate cake. Smoke a cigarette. Binge watch The Office. Do anything but FEEL BAD.” Firefighters are apparently people dis-pleasers. They’re the parts of ourselves that make us fat (if you want to shut up your inner child, give it a donut), tell others to FUCK OFF, NANCY, and do other socially unacceptable things.

I really do like this way of looking at one’s personality, the idea that we all have parts. To me, it makes as much sense as anything else I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a lot). Basically because it’s true in my experience. Not that I’m Sybil, but I have dozens of voices in my head, and many of them sound different. Also, despite years of trying to ignore or change certain voices in my head (the critic, for example), it’s never worked. So I’m really coming around to this idea of getting curious and finding out WHY my different parts are the way the are.

Earlier this evening I dialogued with one of my managers, my inner critic, and he said he was so frickin’ hard on my appearance because he didn’t want people to laugh at us. In other words, he didn’t want my inner child to be rejected. Also, he said it was tiring and he really didn’t like criticizing me any more than I liked being criticized. But that he thought it was necessary. I said, Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what other people say or do, as long as we don’t reject ourselves. So we’re working on another way.

I’m not sure how I’m going to tie the first half of tonight’s blog together with the second half. Likewise, I’m not absolutely sure that all my different parts can be tied together and convinced to work on the same team (eat chocolate cake, don’t eat chocolate cake), but I’m beginning to think it’s possible. That is, I’m learning that each part of me not only has a reason for the way that it’s thinking and behaving, but that it’s ultimately trying to help. And if it’s trying to help, there’s already a lot of peace in that, in the idea that I don’t have to fight and war with myself anymore. Rather, I can work to understand and have compassion for myself. This, I think, is the tie-in to the first part of the blog about criticism and blame. If you can make peace with the different viewpoints inside yourself, you can certainly make peace with the different viewpoints outside yourself.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

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