Anything but a Setback (Blog #696)

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This evening I drove home from Springfield, where I spent the weekend. Coming back I tried to take my time. I’m trying to be more mindful and not be in such a hurry all the damn time. This is a challenge for me; I’m always on the go-go. Anyway, when I stopped for dinner, I sipped my tea, read a book. When I got home, I methodically unpacked. This part was easy enough because I’m anal. Everything ALWAYS has its place. Now it’s ten-thirty, and I’m lying horizontal in bed because last night took it out of me. I’m hoping I can get this over with, do some leg exercises, and get straight to bed.

Crap, I’m in a hurry again.

Last night I attended a sock hop at my friends Anne and Andy’s dance studio. They host a sock hop every year, and last night was my third one to attend. Anyway, even though I knew I couldn’t do a lot of dancing, I figured it would be the perfect thing to get out-of-town, see friends, and move, even a little. As it turns out, I was right (this is often the case, ha). Everything about the sock hop was a blast–the music, the costumes, the people. Plus, my friend Matt, who used to live in Springfield but recently moved away, showed up to visit. Talk about a treat. Not only did we have good conversation, but we also laughed, laughed, laughed.

Every time someone asked me if I wanted to dance last night I said, “Yes, but I recently had knee surgery and need to stick to the basics,” which I did. When the dance first started, before I hit the floor, a couple friends asked if it was killing me to watch everyone else dance. Really, it wasn’t. I’ve watched people dance before. Plus, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch people with two functioning knees walk, run, and dance over the last three months, and I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m not currently there. That being said, it was frustrating for me to actually dance. For one thing, so many of my movements felt awkward and jerky. For another, there was so much that my body wanted to do (jump, spin, turn) that it couldn’t. That’s what sucked–to feel broken, to not be able to really cut loose and dance up a storm.

So many times over the years I’ve attended dances and wanted to look and dance like someone else. God, you can really get carried away comparing yourself to others. But last night I really just wanted to dance like me, to be able to do what I used to be able to. And I know–I’ll get back there. Baby steps. But until that happens, I’m going to try to be content with where I am and what I have. Ugh. This is the toughest thing, to accept life as it is, to not always be wanting something you ain’t got–to look like someone else, to dance like your former self. Some people say that’s the secret to happiness, to want what you have.

Lately my shoulder’s been hurting. For the most part it’s not dramatic, but it’s something I’m aware of almost constantly. On the way home today I listened to a podcast that said injuries and pain aren’t setbacks, they’re signals. That is, it’s easy when you’re hurting (or not dancing up to par with your former self) to think that you’ve somehow moved backwards in the grand scheme of things. As if life were a board game and, thanks to the roll of the dice, you’ve been asked to go back three squares and not collect two hundred dollars. But the podcast suggested that our problems are simply information, that pain is often the body’s way of saying, “Something’s up here. This could use a little attention.”

In terms of my knee, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, I’m glad I injured it like I did. Not that this has been a pleasant experience, but it has taught me how to be patient, how to accept help from others, how to better care for myself, and how to slow the fuck down. And that’s huge, learning all that stuff. Anything but a setback. But more on learning to slow down. I think that’s a message my body’s been trying to convey for a while now–slow down, chill out, relax. And whereas I hate it when my knee says it can’t spin or my shoulder says it doesn’t want to, I don’t know, lift weights at the gym, I’m learning to trust and listen to my body. Fine, you don’t feel like doing that, we won’t do that. Period. End of story.

Fine, you’re ready to bed. We’ll go to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Confidence takes what you have and amplifies it. Confidence makes anyone sexy.

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On Ritual and Good Results (Blog #690)

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All day I’ve had my nose stuck in a book–Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. I rarely read fiction, but this is delightful. Plus, it’s not even fiction; it’s nonfiction, a true story of hospitality, weirdness, and murder in the town of Savannah. This afternoon I plowed through two hundred pages, half the book. I can’t wait to finish it. Alas, I have things to do, places to go, people to see.

Yeah right, Marcus.

Every day, at least lately, I make it a point to do three things–practice chi kung (a meditative/healing art), write this blog, and go to the gym or otherwise rehab my knee or work out my upper body. I don’t know, it’s like I can breathe a sigh of relief whenever I check those items off my to-do list. Not that those things in and of themselves keep the world spinning, but they do provide a certain amount of structure to my otherwise unstructured day/life, so they keep my world spinning. They’re grounding. Again, it’s not the specific acts, it’s the rituals around them.

Something about the idea of ritual, of at least repetition. In the acknowledgments of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, the author says it took him years to pen his tale. This struck me because what what took him years to write will probably end up taking me days to read. But for years, I’m assuming, this guy had to repeatedly, as one writer says, keep his butt in a chair and, well, write. And now, over twenty years after the book was first published, I’m able to enjoy it because he did, because he had a ritual.

Earlier tonight I received several messages on Facebook from someone wanting to know about Lindy Hop, and it made me want to dance again. Like really dance, more than the basics. Unfortunately, thanks to my knee, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. But again, it made me realize that part of the reason I love dancing is because I’ve invested so much of myself into it. I couldn’t even begin to count the hours I’ve spent learning, practicing, teaching. Is it big deal in the grand scheme of things to lay off several months in order to get back to what I love doing? Absolutely not. Is it necessary to be ritualistically dedicated in my efforts to get to where I want to be? Absolutely.

Good results come from ritual; they don’t just materialize.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I guess I’d like to be clear that having a ritual, although it provides stability, is often pretty damn boring. Think about brushing your teeth. Do you LOVE it? Probably not. But do you LOVE having clean, sparkling, cavity-free teeth? (I know I do.) Well, it’s the same with dancing, writing, or transforming your body. Learning the thing–dragging your ass to class or the gym, sitting down to write every day–isn’t fun. But there’s a sense of pride and accomplishment that comes after the fact, a payoff that’s greater than the sum of its parts. That’s what I’m trying to remind myself, because I have things I want to happen that won’t until I start the not-fun work, that good results come from ritual; they don’t just materialize. It’s just a matter of getting into a habit.

And no, not a nun’s habit.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Wax On, Wax Off (Blog #657)

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This afternoon my friend Bonnie taught me how to knit. Well, started teaching me. It’s not exactly something you learn in an afternoon. But I did learn how to “cast on,” which is how you initially connect your yarn to your needle, as well how to knit a knit stitch. As I understand it, there are two basic stitches in knitting–knit stitches and purl stitches–so this means I’m like, halfway to being an expert already. But seriously, I’m not. Bonnie flies through the basic movements lickety-split, faster than a speeding bullet. Me? I’m slower than Christmas.

Bonnie says I’ll get the hang of it. At some point, I’ll figure out how to hold the needles with one hand and the yarn with the other, and doing all the things will become muscle memory. Until then, I’m having to think about everything, and I don’t mind saying it’s frustrating as hell. Like, I’ve been excited about learning, and all I wanted to do during my first lesson was cuss (and I did). But this is the deal when you learn something new–it’s hard work. That’s how it is with dancing, and–now I know–that’s how it is with knitting. If someone makes it look easy, it’s because they’ve spent hundreds of hours practicing.

Despite my feeling frustrated today, Bonnie said I did a good job. And even though I said a few cuss words, I actually had fun. First, I enjoy learning new things. Second, it was good to do something creative and work with my hands. Third, it got my mind off my recent knee surgery and all the things I currently can’t do, like run, dance, and hula-hoop. (Confession: I couldn’t hula-hoop before my accident either.) Lastly, it was exciting (and is exciting) to think about making a scarf, cap, or blanket during this extended period of down time. Maybe six months from now I can look back and say, “Yeah, knee surgery and rehab sucked, but look at this cool afghan I made.”

Bonnie says I’m not ready to make an afghan–yet. This last weekend when we were in Nashville and I asked about what I was going to knit first, she said, “First you’re going to knit a small square–think of it like a potholder for Tinker Bell if you want to–then you’re going to tear it apart. Then you’re going to knit it again, then you’re going to tear it apart again. And again and again until I say you’re ready to move on.” So I called her Mr. Miyagi (from The Karate Kid, Mom), since he made Daniel buff cars repeatedly in order to learn self-defense. Now that’s our joke–wax on, wax off.

This is obviously a new endeavor, but I already see a lot of parallels to dancing, writing, and even knee rehab-ing. Everyone wants to do the thing–knit the afghan, dance the cha-cha, write the novel, um, walk. But before you can do the thing, you have to learn to do the thing, and learning to do the thing is almost always mundane, repetitive, boring, and awkward. This means you not only have to be willing to be a newbie (that is, bad at something), you also have to be willing to be patient with yourself. So I’m trying to lean into this wisdom of wax on, wax off in knitting, knee-rehab, and in life, this wisdom of slow and steady wins the race.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself an abundance of grace.

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Life Is a Contact Sport (Blog #611)

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Well shit. About an hour ago my friend Matt and I performed the dance routine we’ve been practicing the last two weeks. And whereas it WAS going REALLY WELL, when I jumped over his head I twisted my left knee when I landed and ended up hobbling like a freshly born foal through the rest of the number. Yowza. Now I’m leaning against a wall in the back of the room, my knee encased in compression bandages and ice packs. Friends have been coming by to check on me. As this is my first time injuring my knee in all my years of dancing, several of them have pointed out, “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

I mean, they didn’t have to go and bring my age into this.

It’s funny, and by that I mean it’s not funny, that Matt and I have been working on jumps and tricks for the last two weeks without any MAJOR problems. Then this happened during a jump that I’ve done a hundred times before. I don’t know–I must have favored my left side as I landed. It all happened so fast. Thankfully, I’m not sitting here writhing in agony. Mostly I’m emotional, frustrated. This last year has been SUCH A BITCH, one sickness or disappointment after another, so this is just ONE MORE THING. And for the record, I’m done. Whoever’s listening up there, I’ve had enough.

This is me crying uncle. (You win.)

(Note: About this point in the blog, I left the dance studio and drove home, where I am now. Don’t worry–I used my right leg to drive.)

To be clear, I’m not in pain currently. I wasn’t even in pain when I injured myself and during the last part of the routine, which I had to hop my way through. Granted, if I rotate my leg a certain way, something feels “off,” but it’s not this shooting, awful thing. The worse part is that I can’t stand on it.

Immediately following The Great Knee Screwup of 2018, I sat on the floor and scooted my way to the wall. Then Matt got a compression bandage out of my car, and a nurse who was at the event wrapped my leg with it, and my friend the studio owner gave me ice packs to put around it. (Apparently I’m not the first dancer this has happened to, as her freezer was FILLED with ice packs.) Then another dancer, who was wearing a brace on their knee, came over to talk to me about care and “what possibly happened.” Later I called a friend who’s an orthopedic surgeon, and he said, “Come by my office on Monday.” When I thank his wife for taking my call so late, she said, “You’re like family.” Later another dancer friend came over and sat on the floor with me for nearly an hour so I wouldn’t be alone. Then a guy I barely knew came over to give me a hug, and another guy I just met tonight let me lean on him while I hobbled to my car.

My point being, in the midst of a less-than-ideal situation, I was well cared for. Fawned over, really. Plus, I’ve already had multiple offers from friends for me to borrow their crutches starting tomorrow. One friend said, “I have TWO PAIRS you can choose from.” Then they added, “I’m a total klutz.” So that’s huge, knowing that I’m not alone in this incident, either specifically or generally. You know, because sometimes it can feel like the universe is picking on you personally. But the truth is, I’m not the only one whose body or soul is or has been overwhelmed. One dancer tonight said, “This is a contact sport,” and I think it would be just as true to say that LIFE is a contact sport. In other words, it really doesn’t matter how old you are or whatever you want to blame it on–and it’s certainly tempting for me to blame myself, blame my shoes, or blame the floor–but no one gets through this thing without their fair share of challenges.

And yes, I hate that, but I didn’t make the rules down here.

Matt said someone sent him a video of our routine, and that–with one notable exception he described as “like a sports injury you’d see on television”–it really looks great, even the part after the injury. He said, “I don’t know how you kept going.” (My answer: “Adrenaline.”) Honestly, I’m afraid to watch the video. Despite the fact that I was there and lived through it, I’m not sure I can bring myself to SEE my leg contort and bend in ways God never intended it to. Feeling it was bad enough. But alas, I probably will watch the video before I see the doctor on Monday, since it might give us a clue as to what exactly happened.

Ugh. There’s a lot that I don’t like about this situation. I hate that I’m propped up in my mom’s recliner and that my knee is throbbing. I hate that the routine we worked so hard on wasn’t “perfect,” I hate that it’s going to take me five minutes to get to the bathroom when I wake up in the middle of the night to pee, and I hate that my list of trials and tribulations from this last year keeps getting longer and longer. Honestly, I’m trying not to bitch, I’m just tired of “being strong” and saying, “It’ll be all right.” I’m worn out. On the inside. Also, I’m scared that my injured knee will become “a thing,” like that I’ll be afraid to use it for the rest of my life and that I’ll end up walking around like Quasimodo in order to avoid hurting it again. I realize that’s a dramatic image, but this is a big deal for me. First, I use my legs to make a living. Second, I want so badly for my body and me to trust each other. Because fundamentally I think we’re on the same side, and I really have been trying to listen to it lately. And then this.

Phew.

It’s been a long day. Now it’s two in the morning, and I should get some rest. In this moment, that’s all I can do–rest, ice, compression, and elevate (RICE). Sure, I’m worried about what will happen next, but that doesn’t make THIS MOMENT better. So in this moment, I’m choosing to be grateful for the goodness that’s manifested itself all around me this evening, take a deep breath, and take all of this one day–one moment–at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Getting comfortable in your own skin takes time.

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On Dance Rehearsal (Blog #610)

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It’s two in the morning, and I’m in Springfield, Missouri. After spending the morning packing and getting ready, I drove here this afternoon to practice with my friend Matt for our upcoming dance routine. Matt and I met at the ballroom where he teaches–The Savoy–about five and worked for a couple hours, mostly on our lifts and jumps, as well as one move that I told Matt I would practice this last week but didn’t. (As our performance is tomorrow, I think I’m just going to end up faking it. It’ll be fine, I promise, I’m a professional.) Anyway, then we went out with our friends Anne and Andy for sushi followed by frozen custard. Then we all came back to the ballroom, where Matt and I worked some more.

Y’all, sushi and frozen custard are not the thing to eat before dancing.

Considering the fact that Matt and I just started this routine two weeks ago and have only rehearsed two other times before today, things are coming along well. That being said, we ended up cutting one of our lifts tonight because not only did we think the move didn’t look good enough, but we also kept hurting each other trying to do the damn thing better. Oh well–we replaced it with something less challenging but just as fun, a trick I can practically do in my sleep. And whereas my inner perfectionist wishes we could have nailed that first move, I’m reminding myself that we’re doing this whole thing FOR FUN and NOT for perfection.

Here’s a picture of ANOTHER move we’ve been working on.

Sometime after midnight, Matt and I called it quits. Our bodies pretty much insisted on it. “Stop,” the said. “We’ve had enough. Just who do you think you are, anyway–Superman?” But then instead of going to bed, we decided to run to Walmart to buy undershirts for our costumes so our routine shirts don’t end up with giant sweat stains on them. The only problem was that we left the ballroom DURING a tornado warning. Y’all, this is why men die before women–we do stupid things like running errands in the middle of a thunderstorm. Anyway, we were fine, seriously. (To quote Matt, “I didn’t see a tornado anywhere.”) However, we did get soaked running from our car into Walmart. And get this shit. The manager, who was standing at the front door with two cops when we ran up, told us that the store was closed until the tornado warning was over. “You’re welcome to wait here in our shelter for the next thirty minutes,” he said.

“Do you want to wait here?” Matt said.

Picturing myself locked in a backroom with a bunch of strangers for half an hour, I said, “NO I DON’T WANT TO WAIT HERE!”

So back we ran to our car, then back we drove to the ballroom, which is where I am now (without an undershirt, I might add). Hopefully I can get some rest, then tomorrow Matt and I can go back to Walmart, run through our routine a few final times here at the ballroom, then perform it tomorrow night (back in Arkansas). I’ll let you know how it goes.

Now all I can think about is how everything hurts and how badly I want to go to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Help is always on the way.

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The Re-Oriental (Blog #605)

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There’s a theory in psychology that you can tell a lot about a person if you know what their three most favorite movies are–because it tells you what’s going on in their subconscious. And whereas it’s not my intent to discuss my three most favorite movies in this post, I would like to discuss my FOURTH most favorite movie–Tombstone. Hum, why do I like this movie–psychologically, that is? It’s about the wild west and a band of outlaws called The Cowboys, and Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday (and their friends) absolutely clean their clocks. I guess that’s it. Their such badasses; they don’t take any shit from anybody else. They stand up for themselves. Their simply not–what’s the word?–afraid to face their demons.

There’s this scene toward the beginning of the movie–Wyatt Earp has just rolled into Tombstone (the town) and enters a saloon called The Oriental. Well, the place is real fancy, like nicer than your mom’s living room, but there’s hardly anyone in the place because their card dealer is a total jerk, a real blowhard. Wyatt asks the owner, “Why don’t you get rid of this guy?” The owner says, “I’m too scared.” So Wyatt says, “I’ll do it.” And just like that Wyatt calls the guy’s bluff and tosses him out on his ear.

So get this shit. Last night I had a dream about The Oriental. However, instead of it being a saloon, it was a hotel–a huge, grand hotel. This is like a theme for me; I can’t tell you the number of hotel dreams I’ve had. The last time I brought up a huge, grand hotel dream to my therapist, she said, “That’s you–big and grand.” Considering the fact that I also have A LOT of construction dreams about building houses, an activity which I think correlates to my building a new life (both internally and externally), I personally see hotels as representing that which is temporary, as well as the need to rest.

But back to last night’s dream. I’m in a swimming pool (water dreams are pretty much non-stop for me) and say, “I’m going to change [my bathing suit.]” The problem is that I can’t find my room, Number 364. Two people give me directions, but the room isn’t where it’s “supposed” to be. So I’m running all over the place–upstairs, downstairs, you name it. Finally I find the right room number, but on the inside is a sweet shop, a restaurant. And then I woke up. Looking at the clock, I noticed it was one in the afternoon.

I’d slept for eleven hours and was still tired.

This afternoon my friend Matt and I rehearsed for our upcoming dance routine at our friend Bonnie’s house. I mean, we rehearsed at her house; the performance is in Northwest Arkansas. Anyway, we worked for several hours. And whereas we got a lot done–the routine is really coming together–my body hurt pretty much the entire time. I have this issue with my right hip, and I guess one of the new moves we’ve been learning irritates the hell out of it. Or at least my doing the move wrong irritates the hell out of it. That’s the thing with aerials–the moves themselves aren’t that bad if you do them right, it’s just figuring out HOW to do them right that hurts.

I don’t have any pictures from our dance rehearsal, but here’s a picture of me with Bonnie’s new boots, which I think are absolutely fabulous. Check out that dollar sign!

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m icing my hip with a bag of frozen blueberries in an effort to minimize the damage from earlier. Hopefully that, the drugs I just took, and a good night’s rest will do the trick. We’ll see. I may have to go to the chiropractor this week. They do this ultrasound thing that really helps with inflammation. I mean, whatever it takes.

But back to last night’s dream and a couple things that fascinate me. First, The Oriental. The obvious connection is to the movie Tombstone, in which case it would be a reference to finding my voice and learning to stand up for and take care of myself. But I think there’s also a wordplay in the name of the hotel–The Oriental–that refers to my current quest to “orient to” or follow my own path in life. (I guess you could call what I’m doing The Re-Oriental.) Second, the room I was looking for, Number 364. The obvious connection here is that 364 is one day shy of a full year (and is the exact number of days one book I recently read about the sun and moon suggested using if you wanted to make your own calendar), so that would be a reference to time. But for me it’s also a reference to my birthday (9/13), since 364 can also be written as 9/4 (because 3 plus 6 is 9), and so can my birthday (because 1 plus 3 is 4).

I realize the birthday/math part is potentially confusing, but I’m always doing this, adding numbers together to see if they match, and it’s the first place my mind went when I woke up this afternoon. Anyway, my birthday would still be a reference to time, and that would make sense because in the dream I couldn’t find my room, and in my real life it feels like I “can’t find the time” or don’t have enough of it. That’s what they say about dream interpretation. WHAT in your waking life FEELS this way?

When I consider the fact that in the beginning of the dream I said, “I’m going to change” and then ended up in a sweet shop/restaurant, the time thing makes sense. That is, I see sweet shops and restaurants as places to kick back, relax, and recharge. And yet I’m always in such a damn hurry to change–running from here to there, thinking I need to move into that new construction–that I rarely remember to slow down, rest, and take better care of myself. Even when my body hurts and WANTS to rest. So the sweet shop is a reminder that there’s TIME to chill out, that this is WHAT time is for–for changing, for re-orienting, for–what’s the word?–healing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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On Creating New Things (Blog #598)

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Last night’s dance in Fayetteville was fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. First, I had so many wonderful dances. Second, I saw and got to catch up with an old friend from high school. Third, I met some darling new people. One lady, a fellow dance instructor–hands down–made my entire night. We got into a delightful conversation. “I’m monopolizing your time,” she said. “I’m enjoying it,” I replied. Lastly, when the dance was over, my friend Matt and I went out to eat, and it’s always good to catch up with a friend.

I didn’t get home until 2:30 in the morning.

Almost like I have a life.

This afternoon Matt drove down to Fort Smith, and he and I met at our friend Bonnie’s house to work on dance stuff. We’re performing a routine together in less than two weeks, and we’re just getting started on it. (As the saying goes, there’s nothing like a hanging to focus one’s attention.) So for over six hours today we wracked our brains and bodies while choreographing and rehearsing. Meanwhile, Bonnie and her husband Todd were kind enough to make sure we stayed nourished–Todd made soup AND pumpkin pie. Matt and I each had three pieces. Talk about having a life. This is the kind of life you want to have.

I don’t remember the last time I put together a dance routine. Within the last year I participated in a group number that Matt choreographed for his troupe in Springfield, but it’s been ages since I’ve been part of something from start to finish. Creation to completion. Creation–that’s something Bonnie brought up tonight. “It’s fun to create new things,” she said. And to think that’s what Matt and I did all day.

Created a dance routine, created memories, created soreness in our hips.

Matt and I used plenty of familiar patterns today, but there’s something about figuring out WHERE to use them, making sure they fit the music just so. That’s creating too, like an author finding the right place for the right word. I love this sort of thing. Plus, Matt and I started working on a couple new aerials and polishing up some old ones. This is often a good way to injure yourself; tomorrow we might not be able to get out of bed. But this is also really fun–a challenge!–a fantastic way to push ourselves and improve.

Let’s hear it for challenges.

Here’s a slow-motion video Bonnie took of us doing a traditional frog jump with a “ninja kick” styling. It’s the same move we’re doing in tonight’s featured photo.

Now it’s nearly one in the morning, and I’m done for the day. Done, done, done. At least my body is. My mind is still racing, thinking of what all needs to be done, practiced, and perfected before our performance. But I also need to get to bed. I’ve got to be up early in the morning, and–ugh–I’m not looking forward to it. But this is Thanksgiving week, so I’m focusing on the goodness of last night’s and today’s events, the delightful company of my friends (one of whom I’m getting up early for tomorrow), creating new things, challenges, and–hum, what else?–Tylenol and Ibuprofen.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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On Our Messy World (Blog #597)

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Currently it’s 3:30 in the afternoon, and I’m sitting in the Verizon Ballroom on the University of Arkansas campus in Fayetteville. My friend Matt is teaching a private dance lesson with a couple several feet away, but otherwise the room is empty. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be in here, but no one’s asked me to leave. Earlier there was a group class for intermediate dancers, but I didn’t get around in time for it. Whatever, I needed to sleep. Moving on. After the lesson, Matt and I are supposed to eat with some friends, then there’s a beginner lesson tonight and a dance with a live band. That’s the part I’m really excited about.

The dance.

Last night, despite being tired, tired, tired, I stayed up til one watching the FX series Pose, which is about transvestites, homosexuals, drug dealers, prostitutes, AIDS, and the “ballroom” world of New York City in the late 1980s. (Not ballroom dancing. “Balls” were a place where the outcasts of society could compete, strut, and “pose” for acceptance, recognition, and prizes.) Anyway, the series is fabulous. My therapist told me about it. When she first brought it up, I said, “Okay, I’ll watch it. You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

In last night’s episode, several of the main characters got tested for HIV/AIDS after one of them had a scare. They had to wait two weeks for their results. Ugh. This kind of anxiety is awful. I’ve experienced it, waiting in the health clinic for your name to be called. It’s so cold and clinical there. Not encouraging at all. Thankfully, I’ve personally always been fine, but once I was convinced I was about to hear the worst news possible, since I could have sworn I saw the word “positive” on the inside of my folder. But then the nurse said, “You’re negative.” It was that quick and easy. Like, bye now, have a good day.

I really didn’t mean to start talking about getting tested for STDs. But having been tested for a number of diseases and physical problems this last year and currently feeling tired, worn out, and simply “off,” I know that the mind–at least my mind–has a STRONG tendency to fantasize, awfulize, and imagine the worst possible outcome. My dick is going to fall off. I’ll never have any energy again. I’m going to die cold, broke, and alone. And I just know what a relief it is to realize that you’ve been blowing a lot of smoke up your own ass. Even in the face of bad news–your cholesterol is high, you have hemorrhoids, whatever–it’s never as bad in reality as it is in your head.

After the Pose episode, I watched an episode of The Power of Myth with Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers. It’s a series of interviews Moyers did with Campbell during the last two years of his life. During last night’s interview, Campbell says that the best thing you can give the world is an example of how to live in it. Because, as Campbell says, the world is a mess, and it’s always been a mess. Not that you can’t work to change it, but that it’s always going to be filled with both wonders and horrors, moments of absolute relief and elation and moments of unspeakable tragedy. So that’s what I’m working on, not rejecting an experience simply because it’s uncomfortable or painful, being open to whatever comes along.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For me, it's important to hang on to this idea that no matter how bad they are, your circumstances can turn around, to believe that if an elephant can show up in your life, it can also disappear, to believe that just as the universe full of big problems, it is also full of big answers.

"

On Today and Becoming Famous (Sort of) (Blog #593)

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Things that happened today–

1. I woke up

Last night I passed out way early but only slept for a couple hours. Then I tossed and turned for a couple hours, then I finally fell back asleep. Then when my bladder woke me up this morning/afternoon, I was in a fog, which I’ve been in ever since. My hips hurt, and–I know this sounds like something an old person would say, but–it’s probably because the weather’s changing. Seriously, I do not thrive when it’s cold outside. Still, as my dad says, “Any day above ground is a good day.”

2. I remembered how much I’ve forgotten

This afternoon I worked more on my photo-sorting project. I’m getting close to done. A few more days like today, and I should have it licked. Anyway, nothing profound came up today, at least nothing that hasn’t come up before. But here’s a photo of me and my friend DeAnna, who taught me how to dance. (She’s the responsible party.) I know it was taken in Biloxi, MS, but I can’t for the life of me remember when. Well wait, I think it was sometime around (either just before or after) Hurricane Katrina, which was in 2005. So that’s a clue. I swear, trying to remember my life is like trying to solve a murder mystery.

3. I faced my fears

For over a year I’ve been meaning to add a “donate” page to the website, but have been putting it off, putting it off because it brings up a lot of issues for me. (Fear of money, fear of rejection, fear of acceptance.) But my therapist and I set a goal to have it done by next week (ish), so tonight I “drafted” the page. And whereas I was initially terrified to sit down and “write something, write anything,” it went fine and wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I imagined it would be. I mean, it was just putting my honest thoughts on the page, and that’s something I do every day. Plus, my therapist and I have done a lot of digging around WHY this is such a big damn deal for me, and as I heard Shakti Gawain* say tonight (and I’m paraphrasing), “When we really look at the root of our fears and acknowledge them, they begin to dissolve.”

*Shakti Gawain was the author of Creative Visualization. She passed away this last week.

4. I became famous

Well, sort of. Recently while I was on a travel writing trip in Tennessee, my friend and fellow journalist Tom Wilmer interviewed me about swing dancing for his podcast, Journeys of Discovery, on NPR. Y’all, I was totally nervous. I’m so used to ASKING questions, not ANSWERING them. But Tom was super, like “this is no big deal,” and put me at ease. Later, Tom combined my interview with another interview he did about belly dancing, and the show went live tonight. Here’s a link to the entire thing. It’s about thirty minutes long, and my part starts at 13:55. Personally, I’m thrilled with how it turned out. Thanks, Tom!

Be sure to check out some of Tom’s other interviews. He gets to meet the coolest people and does a fabulous job sharing their stories with the world.

5. I cleaned my room

While listening to the podcast, I dusted my room. Woowho. Now I won’t have to do that again for another six months.

[One final shout-out to Tom for taking the picture of me at the top of tonight’s blog. It’s from our trip to Tennessee and was taken at Fall Creek Falls State Park.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

It takes forty years in the desert for seas to part.

"

Today’s Affirmation (Blog #543)

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Ugh. This afternoon I worked cleaning up a friend’s garage and backyard and got filthy dirty, absolutely covered in sweat and deep-woods bug repellent. I love being employed, but yuck. Thankfully, all that’s left to do is bundle up some branches and set them by the road. Anyway, I rushed home afterwards in order to take a shower (ah-glorious) then head to a dance lesson with my friends Bonnie and Todd at their house. Running a bit behind, I texted Bonnie–“I’m on my way.”

Bonnie’s reply: Thumbs up.

Arriving at Bonnie and Todd’s, I let myself in the front door and found Bonnie and Todd in the kitchen. “Want some dinner?” they said. “The answer’s always yes,” I replied. What a lovely surprise! I thought. Anyway, when we finished dinner, I said, “Are y’all ready to dance?”

They paused.

“Didn’t we schedule that for tomorrow night?”

I paused.

“Oh crap. That’s right, we did. I guess I got confused.”

Y’all, these are the kinds of friends (and dance students) you want to have. Not only did Bonnie and Todd rise to the occasion and do their scheduled lesson a night in advance, but they also didn’t make a fuss about the fact that I invited myself over and ended up eating half their evening meal.

I said, “What did you think when I sent the message about me being on my way?”

Bonnie said, “I thought, Marcus is coming over!”

Later I joked, “Normally I’m running late to almost everything, but tonight–for once!–I was EXTREMELY EARLY.”

Now it’s 11:30, and I’m ready for bed. I’m plumb wore out. I haven’t read a single page of anything all day. The only thing I want to do is crawl into bed with a book about the constellations and read until I pass out. Or just pass out. I need to take care of myself. This promises to be a long week–full of work and plenty other things to do–so the more rest I get, the better. My affirmation for today is, I take care of my body, and my body takes care of me.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"You can't change your age, but you can change what your age means to you."