Go Eff Yourself, 2018 (Blog #616)

Okay. Phew. It’s five in the evening, I’m at home with my bum knee, and I’ve got an hour before I need to get myself up, get myself together, and get to the theater for our holiday variety show. It’s opening night. Woo. I’ll let you know how it goes. Really, if I can get my pants on, things should be fine. If I can’t–well–the audience may get more than they’ve bargained for.

Earlier today I went to see my therapist, and when I walked in on crutches, her receptionist said, “WHAT did you do?” After I explained, she told me how she once tore her ACL while playing Fantasy Football. No kidding, apparently she got excited while watching a game, jumped up from the couch to hoot and holler, and her leg just gave out. So you know–shit happens, you’re never alone in your challenges, and all that.

Merry Christmas.

When my therapist walked into the waiting room and saw me, she did a double take and literally took a step back. After a brief pause she said, “I can see you have A LOT going on today.” Then as I stood up and grabbed my crutches–which are decorated with tinsel and a Christmas stocking because of the theater show I’m in–my therapist disappeared. Reemerging from wherever she went, she dropped a handful of candy into my stocking. “Candy for Tiny Tim–No!–TALL Tim,” she said. Later she added, “Hopefully everyone else will take the hint, and that thing will be overflowing by Christmas.”

Fingers crossed.

About my injury and how frustrating it’s been for me (because this year has been one damn thing after another), my therapist reminded me that “not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.” This is something she’s said before and comes from a story about a small bird whose wings froze one winter. There this little fella was, stuck on the ground shivering to death, and a cow came by and took a dump on him. Well, the heat from the manure thawed the bird out, and he was saved! (Cute, right?) Anyway–“The universe has taken a shit on you,” she said, “but we don’t know WHY. We don’t know what GOOD could come from this or what DOORS this may open.”

Then she said, “And it’s okay to be pissed off and tell 2018 to go fuck itself.”

Go fuck yourself, 2018.

The other thing my therapist said about my current situation is that it’s always darkest before the dawn. Well, she said that it’s always darkest before things turn around, but that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “The myths are full of stories about how things get worse before they get better,” she said, “and that’s because myths mirror real life.” (Personally, I have the getting worse part down and am waiting on the getting better part.) Then when I told her that several people are taking my injuring myself as an opportunity to remind me that I’m no longer a spring chicken (aren’t people great?), she said, “You’re ONLY 27! How old do they want you to be–17?!”

This is why I give her all my money.

All right, I’m wrapping this up and am going to TRY to wiggle into my jeans, my dress shoes, and my slightly undersized sweater that says, “Ho Ho Ho.” And to be clear, that’s something Santa says, not a reference to my moral character or what I act like on the weekends.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Things are only important because we think they are.

"

A Big Myth-understanding (Blog #579)

Ick. It’s 11:30, and I’m so frustrated I could spit. Earlier tonight I met my friend Justin to check the status of my laptop. (I spilled hot tea on it a few days ago, and we put it in rice to dry out.) Well, it’s a long story, but basically the keyboard works–with one small exception. It “thinks” one of the shift keys is permanently depressed. (I think I might be thanks to this situation.) THAT MEANS IT STARTS IN SAFE MODE (WHICH IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU REBOOT A MAC AND HOLD DOWN THE SHIFT KEY, MOM), SO IT HAS LIMITED FUNCTION, AND IT ALSO TYPES IN ALL CAPS, WHICH IS–OBVIOUSLY–ANNOYING AS SHIT.

After over an hour of resetting this and reprogramming that, Justin got the laptop to type in regular lowercase–SOMETIMES–but it still starts in safe mode, and one of the shift keys doesn’t work. So I called Apple, and now I have an appointment tomorrow to have a technician check it out. Most likely, I’ll need a new keyboard.

As Justin said, could be better, could be worse.

Believe it or not, none of this really upset me. I actually took it all in stride. Shit happens. It’s not the end of the world. But when I came home and tried to backup some files and log myself out of my online accounts–and couldn’t–I nearly flew off the handle. Why the hell does everything have to be so complicated?! What did I do to deserve this?

Finally, I walked away, reasoning, Just leave everything alone, Marcus. Trust the professionals. You don’t have to control every little thing.

So now I’m in bed, blogging on my phone, trying to chill out. Really, it’s been a good day. This afternoon I made progress on my photo organizing project. Check out one of my all-time favorite pictures, from summer camp (2000) with my friend Matt.

Later I went by myself to see a movie, Small Foot, an animated film about a group of Big Feet who don’t believe in humans until one of them discovers one of us. It’s super cute; totally adorable. The tagline for the movie is “There’s been a big myth-understanding.”

For no planned reason, the two photos I just posted feature one person carrying another. Hum. Maybe there’s a lesson there, in the repetition. I’ve spent so much of life afraid something will go wrong. So much of life mistrusting others and even life itself, that I imagined only I could do things “right.” This has been my personal myth, and it’s why little things like a broken laptop set me off. They force me to let go, to surrender, to accept help. This is a good thing but not an easy thing to do, to admit there’s been a big myth-understanding, that the world ISN’T a big, scary place, and one person DOESN’T have to carry its weight on his shoulders, that it’s OKAY to accept help.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

One thing finishes, another starts. Things happen when they happen.

"

A Synopsis of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Blog #558)

Recently I spent ten days working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. This afternoon, as an act of mourning, celebration, and education, I read the book on which the musical and movie were based–The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum–for the first time. And whereas the musical and movie contain much of the original story, they leave many notable details out.

Prepare yourself for a rather long (but entertaining) book report.

According to the Baum, Aunt Em never smiles, and she, Uncle Henry, and Dorothy (and Toto) are the only characters who live in Kansas. (Later we find out that the wizard is from Omaha, Nebraska.) There’s no mention of the three farmhands–Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke–nor is there any mention of Miss Gulch, and Dorothy never runs away or encounters Professor Marvel.

When Dorothy is swept up by the tornado and lands in Munchkin Land, she finds out that the land of Oz is divided into four sections–the east, where she’s landed, where the Munchkins live, and that used to be ruled by The Wicked Witch of the East; the west, ruled by The Wicked Witch of the West; the north, ruled by The (nameless) Witch of the North; and the south, whose details we find out later. The City of Emeralds (or The Emerald City) is in the center of all four lands. The Yellow Brick Road goes from the east to The Emerald City, and there’s NO ROAD that goes to the west.

At this point in the story, The Wicked Witch of the West does NOT appear in Munchkin Land, but Dorothy does receive a pair of magical shoes from The Witch of the North, the shoes that used to belong to The Wicked Witch of the East. However, these shoes are silver, NOT ruby, and it’s only at a later point–when Dorothy changes from a red dress into her famous blue and white gingham dress–that she puts the shoes ON. The dress, which she’s brought (in her house) from Kansas is significant because all the Munchkins wear blue and believe that anyone who wears white is a sorceress. So (like Jesus), they see Dorothy as both one of them (or human) and divine.

As we all are.

As Dorothy sets off to see the Wizard–who’s referred to as The Great and Terrible, NOT The Great and Powerful–she quickly encounters The Scarecrow, The Tin Woodman, and The Cowardly Lion, much like she does in the musical and movie. Baum describes The Scarecrow–who’s supposed to have no brain–as saying things “thoughtfully” or “after some serious thought.” At first I judged these descriptions as either poor writing or pure irony, but one could argue that they are neither, as all the main characters clearly possessed that which they were seeking the whole time but simply didn’t realize it yet.

As we all do.

Another interesting point the book makes is that just as The Scarecrow didn’t have a brain (or a heart), The Tin Woodman didn’t have a heart (or a brain). But, for different reasons, one values the head above the heart, and the other values the heart above the brain, so each seeks what is important to him even though both things are “missing.” Personally, I think one should have, value, and use both their brain AND their heart.

In the scene in which Dorothy, The Scarecrow, and The Tin Woodman encounter The Cowardly Lion, the lion asks if Toto is made of straw or tin. Neither, Dorothy says, he’s “a meat dog.”

Before reaching The Emerald City, Dorothy and her friends encounter a number of trials, none of which have anything to do with The Wicked Witch of the West. Like in the musical and movie, one of these trials is the poisonous poppy field, where they initially have to leave the lion–who falls asleep–but later come back to save him. (They haul him out on a cart made by The Tin Woodman and are assisted in pulling it by hundreds of field mice.) When they do reach The Emerald City, they are required to wear green spectacles, which they are told is to protect their eyes from all the shiny objects and is something everyone has to do. Later, when it’s found out that the wizard is a fraud (“a humbug”), they’re told the spectacles are used to fool both the citizens and visitors into believing that everything is green even though in reality it’s not.

The book says that Dorothy and her friends get to see the wizard, but they have to do it separately. The wizard appears in a different form to each one, but asks them all to do the same thing–kill The Wicked Witch of the West. (Because he’s not really a wizard, he’s a afraid of her.) In the musical and movie, he asks that they bring him her broomstick, but the broomstick isn’t mentioned in the book at all–because, like Mary Poppins, the witch carries AN UMBRELLA!

Also, in the book, the witch has ONE EYE instead of two.

So Dorothy and the gang take off a-witch-hunting, but by this point, the one-eyed witch has found out about them, so she sends 40 wolves to have their asses for dinner. (The Tin Woodman chops their heads off.) Then she sends 40 crows. (The Scarecrow breaks their necks.) Then she sends a swarm of bees. (They break their stingers on The Tin Woodman’s chest.) Then she sends 12 Winkies, which are yellow, by the way, the same way the Munchkins are “blue.” (The Lion scares The Winkies off.) Finally, the witch sends the winged monkeys, whom she controls by means of a golden cap. The caveat–whoever has the golden cap can only command the monkeys three times, and this is the witch’s final “wish.”

But the monkeys succeed. (In the musical, a creature called The Jitterbug causes the main characters to dance until they are exhausted, at which point the flying monkeys scoop them up. The Jitterbug scene was shot for the 1939 movie–during the peak of the Lindy Hop/swing dance/jitterbug era–but was ultimately edited out.)

In the book, it’s only Dorothy and the lion who are brought to the witch’s castle; the other two friends are left in the woods to be rescued later. And whereas the lion is kept outside to starve to death (Dorothy saves him by sneaking him food each day), Dorothy is kept in “the house” to do dishes, much like Cinderella was. Of course, what the witch really wants is Dorothy’s shoes, and when she finally manages to steal ONE of them but not the other, Dorothy gets pissed off and throws a bucket of water on her, and it’s then that the witch both melts and dies.

And Dorothy gets her other shoe back.

At this point, Dorothy and the lion rescue their two lost friends, and since Dorothy has taken the golden cap from the witch, the four of them (and Toto) are ultimately transported back to The Emerald City by the winged monkeys. (These guys are better than Uber.) From here, the storyline pretty much follows the musical and movie, except that when the wizard takes off in the hot air balloon, The Witch of the North DOES NOT show up to save the day. Rather, our heroes are forced to take off on more adventures, and this time they go in search of The Witch of the South–Glinda–who lives in a land where everything is RED and sits on a throne made of RUBIES.

MGM (who made the movie) obviously COMBINED The Witch of the North with The Witch of the South.

Nowhere in the book (that I remember) is the phrase “lions and tigers and bears–oh my!” used. However, while the four friends are going south in search of Glinda, the come upon a land where everyone and everything is made of china (The Dainty China Country), and each of the characters except the lion says, “Oh my!”

Once the four travelers reach Glinda, she indeed teaches Dorothy how to use her magical shoes in order to get back home. But first she uses the golden cap, which Dorothy gives her in exchange for her help, to call three times upon the winged monkeys ato The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City (as the wizard asked him to do when he left in the hot air balloon), The Tin Woodman back to rule The Winkies in the west, and The (no-longer) Cowardly Lion back to rule a particular forest.

So Dorothy clicks her heels together three times and is whisked (in three steps) across “the desert” and back home to Kansas. (The shoes fall off her feet along the way.) However, during this whole ordeal, she never says, “There’s no place like home.” She does that earlier, when she meets The Scarecrow, who says he doesn’t understand why Dorothy would want to go back to dull, drab Kansas instead of staying in colorful Oz. “This is because you have no brains,” she says. “There’s no place like home.”

In the musical and movie, it’s strongly indicated that Dorothy was stuck unconscious by the tornado and has simply dreamt her adventures. But in the book, Dorothy comes running up to the farm, and Aunt Em says, “Where in the world have you come from?” Dorothy replies, “From the Land of Oz. … I’m so glad to be at home again!” And that’s it–THE END. Nothing is said about the tornado or the fact that Dorothy used their house as an airplane to go on vacation but didn’t bother to bring it back.

So that’s CoCo’s Cliff Notes for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. But before closing, since I’m so fascinated by the symbology of this story, here a few final things that stood out to me in the book that didn’t stand out to me in the musical or movie:

1. On going into the forest

Joseph Campbell says, “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path; you are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s way, you are not going to realize your potential.” So I think it’s appropriate that there’s NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch of the West. Like Campbell says of all true heroes, Dorothy and her friends must blaze their own trail.

Symbolically speaking, the forest Dorothy and her friends enter en route to The Wicked Witch represents Dorothy’s unconscious, and The Wicked Witch represents her shadow. (It’s all the same.) The Guardian of the Gates of The Emerald City is the one who says there is NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch and explains WHY this is the case–because “no one ever wishes to go that way.” Exactly, no one WANTS to face their shadow. Why would they? It’s dark, dangerous, and scary as hell. But it is–ultimately–the way home. As the saying goes, “The only way out–is in.”

Along the same lines, Caroline Myss says, “Always go with the choice that scares you the most–because that’s the one that’s going to require the most from you.”

2. On recognizing your own power

When The Wicked Witch enslaves Dorothy, she KNOWS that Dorothy could use her silver slippers to escape if she only knew what to do with them. But she explains, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” I think this is a gorgeous lesson, the perfect reminder that we are all more capable than we recognize; it’s just a matter of learning how to rise above rather than be intimated by that which at first blush seems scary. Jesus obviously knew how to do this–he slept through a storm, walked on water, and danced on his way to the cross. The reason they called him Master? Because it’s not easy.

But it is possible.

3. On being wonderful

When Glinda is preparing to send The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City, she says it’s because “it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler,” and The Scarecrow says, “Am I really wonderful?

Glinda’s reply?

“You are unusual.”

Oh the shade! (Shade is when you insult someone discreetly, Mom.)

But seriously. Perhaps these two things–being wonderful and being unusual–go hand in hand. I don’t know–we so often want to be like everyone else. But the truth is, we are ALL unusual. For all our similarities, there will never be another YOU or another ME–ever, ever, ever. So why not own and celebrate our differences? Don’t they make us wonderful?

Don’t they make us FULL of wonder?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

The Last Day (Blog #556)

It’s day ten working for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and it’s also the last day. This morning at nine, four dozen workers descended on the Alma Performing Arts Center and–in just under five hours–took down all the lights, backdrops, and prop boxes we put up ten days ago. We filled up four semi trailer trucks worth of Oz, and then they drove off. So now it’s over. And whereas my physical body is glad for the break–it was a long ten days–my heart is sad. This last week and a half was–well–quite magical. There were so many wonderful moments, so many wonderful people that I may never see again. And yet I’m grateful to have had these moments, to have met these people.

What I’m feeling is often called PMS–Post Musical Syndrome–that sad feeling you get when a show is over. You spend all this time together–you’re like a little family–and then it’s just–done. Everyone goes their separate ways. The stage is suddenly empty. It’s disorienting. You think, What will happen next? But perhaps the last day is also the best day, since all the hard work is over, there’s that feeling of satisfaction, and you realize, I got to be part of something beautiful. And maybe you appreciate something more when it’s over, since it helps you remember how quickly time passes, how precious each moment, each person, and each connection truly is.

I spent this evening with two of my dearest friends–Justin and Ashley–whom I used to live with. For me, it was the perfect way to celebrate this past week, a way to come back home, the way Dorothy did after visiting her magical land. This is important, I think–to visit magical lands and meet new people, but to also come back home to yourself and those who know you and love you unconditionally.

As we’re not known for our SHORT conversations, Justin and I stayed up until two-thirty. Now it’s three-thirty, and I’m at finally home and looking forward to going to bed. But obviously there’s this blog. Hum. How to keep it short?

In the Northern Hemisphere, there are two highly recognizable constellations–Ursa Major, which contains the Big Dipper, and Orion (the Hunter). And whereas the Big Dipper is visible year-round, Orion is only visible for about five months in the fall and winter. Well, two nights ago, Friday, while driving home at two-thirty in the morning, I saw Orion for the first time since I got interested in astronomy this last spring. Wow. There he was on the eastern horizon–unmistakable–big as day–well, big as night.

Gorgeous.

Opposite Orion, on the western horizon, was my dear Pegasus, the constellation that used to be on the eastern horizon at two-thirty in the morning a few months ago. Ugh, this is the way the universe works. For a while a star –a constellation–is rising, and then it’s overhead, and then it sets, gone for a season or perhaps forever. Likewise, we meet people, we dance together, and we say goodbye. Who’s to say if we will meet again? My therapist says that life is long–you never know who or what will cycle back around. Personally, I think it’s important to remember that for every setting star, there’s another on the horizon. In other words, life’s stage is never truly empty–there’s always something or someone to love or be grateful for. And–well–even if something were to happen and I NEVER saw Orion or my newfound friends again, I’ll ALWAYS remember that one night and that one time when we were together for one brief but beautiful magical moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

A Horse of a Different Color (Blog #554)

It’s day eight working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and after a full week of tech work, we had our first official performance this morning–for the local middle school. Y’all, teenagers get up early; the show was at nine-frickin’ o’clock. This means I had to wake up at six-frickin’-thirty in order to be at the Alma Performing Arts Center an hour early, at eight-frickin’ o’clock. Ugh. I had to double up on my morning coffee. I guess everyone’s tired. It’s been a long week. But all the the long days have been worth it–the show went fabulously both onstage and backstage. You should have heard the kids laughing, clapping, and awe-ing.

Talk about a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Here’s a picture of me and Kirk Lawrence-Howard, who plays Professor Marvel and The Wizard of Oz. He’s fabulous. (The big wiener is one of the props Professor Marvel uses, and–understandably–the cast and crew make a lot of jokes about it.)

Here’s a picture of me and Emily Perzan, The Wicked Witch of the West. She’s also fabulous. I’d give my left nut if I could cackle half as well as she can.

At lunch, all the locals were let go for the day. However, since I was organizing the prop gondolas (the big, black boxes full of show shit) for my supervisor, I got to stay. Y’all, I absolutely adored this assignment. First, I LOVE organizing and got to COLOR-CODE the different sections of the gondolas and LABEL everything inside. (I’m over the moon for a good label.) Second, I got to be creative in HOW I labeled things. Like, whenever a prop isn’t used for the rest of the show, it’s referred to as “dead.” So for the Stage Right prop gondola, I created a section for dead props and labeled it “Where props go to die.” (Stage Left is the left side of the stage or room if you’re onstage facing the audience, Mom.)

For the Stage Right prop gondola, I created a section for dead props and did this–

Here’s a picture of the entire Stage Right prop gondola (just before I added the dead-prop labels). The mess of straw on the right side of the second shelf from the top is the Scarecrow’s legs and arm that get “torn off” by the flying monkeys.

Now it’s seven-frickin’-thirty in the evening, and I’ve been home for a couple hours. I don’t have to be back at the theater until tomorrow afternoon. (Woowho.) I just finished reading an article in this month’s GQ (Gentlemen’s Quarterly) about mental health. Like me, they recommend seeing a therapist. However, at one point while talking about overcoming anxiety, the author of the article says, “It doesn’t take a lot. We’re not talking about therapy for a year.” And whereas I appreciate the idea that a little can go a long way, I’d like to add that a lot can go a much longer way.

I’ll explain.

Typically when people call me to inquire about dance lessons, they ask, “How many lessons will this take?” Well, there’s not a very good answer to that question. At least not a definite one. Simply put, if you take one dance lesson, you’ll know more than you did before, but you’ll also LOOK LIKE you took ONE dance lesson. Conversely, if you take fifty-two dance lessons (one a week for an entire a year), you’ll not only know infinitely more than you did before, but you’ll also look INFINITELY better. In other words, you get out of something what YOU put into it. This is WHY the national tour of The Wizard of Oz is the phenomenal show that it is–the cast and crew are not only fundamentally talented, but they’ve also put in hundreds and even thousands of hours perfecting their respective skills.

It’s with this logic in mind that I ask, “Would a year in therapy be THE WORST thing in the world if it helped you significantly lower your level of anxiety and lay your longstanding traumas to rest?” Personally, I’ve been going to therapy for four-and-a-half years (every other week for three years, and once a week since then). And it’s not that I’m so totally fucked up that I require a hundred plus hours of one-on-one professional attention. But just like I enjoy dancing and want to keep growing as a dancer, I also enjoy therapy (and when I don’t enjoy the process, I enjoy the results) and want to keep growing as a person.

I don’t know–we like our stories, our entertainment, short and simple. Dorothy encounters a tornado, is swept off to Oz, get a fabulous pair of shoes, meets her three best friends, kills two witches, and manages to get herself back to Kansas in the span of two-and-a-half hours. But real progress, real personal and spiritual growth, doesn’t happen in a matter of hours. It’s a little bit here and a little bit there–consistently–over time. Over a lot of time. Now–if you only have one hour to take a dance lesson or go to therapy? Go–do it for an hour. You’ll still get something out of it. But if you decide to really dig deep and truly commit to the process–well–as the guard to the gate of The Emerald City says–“That’s a horse of a different color.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

"

No Tornado, No Adventure (#553)

It’s day seven working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and all the long days are starting to catch up to me. Physically, I’m trucking right along. Emotionally, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I’m due for a good night’s rest, which, according to the science I’ve read, truly does reset your feelings to baseline. Alas, that’s not going to happen tonight, as we’ll be running the show until late this evening and have to be back early tomorrow for our first performance (for the local high school). But I think–I think–we get tomorrow night off, as well as the next morning. So maybe I can sleep in.

And since I know I’m not the only one who’s worn down and stressed out, maybe we can all sleep in.

I spent this morning painting and sprucing up more sets. However, one of them, The Oz Chamber, got called onto stage in the middle of my paint job, so it’s still not done. And whereas The Completionist in me can’t stand it, this is life–I don’t know when or even if the project will get done. Anyway, when The Oz Chamber got called in, I moved on to other matters. Specifically, I added more details to the flower pots I worked on yesterday and decorated a backup wand for Glinda (The Witch of the North), which is pictured above.

Here are yesterday’s pots.

Here are the same pots today.

Last night I dreamed I was driving home on the interstate and a fast-moving tornado was coming in my direction. I wonder if I’ll be okay, I thought, and then woke up. Of course, I assume the tornado image came from The Wizard of Oz, but I think it’s interesting symbolically, since tornadoes represent chaos and destruction. In Dorothy’s story, the tornado is this big, scary thing that rips her away from her family and the only world she’s every known. It’s terrifying.

I think of the worst things that have happened to me, and without exception they’ve all felt like tornadoes, these huge, strong, uncontrollable forces that have come into my life and ripped me away from whatever I held dear at the time. God, I felt so helpless when our house burned down, so powerless when my dad went to prison, so heartbroken when that relationship ended. But that’s what it’s like when a tornado comes into your life. One minute your feet are on solid ground, and the next minute you’re up in the atmosphere, floundering. And who knows where you’ll land–or if you’ll even land at all?

All you can do is surrender.

Personally, I think tornadoes get a bad rap. After all, had Dorothy not been picked up by her tornado, she never would have landed in Oz or faced her fears and overcome them. Clearly, she wasn’t doing that on her own, so she needed a nudge (a shove) in the right direction, and the tornado was obviously the only thing strong and powerful enough to separate her from her old way of thinking and being. Say what you will about the tornado, but it ultimately got Dorothy over the rainbow (to her true self). Personally, I wouldn’t trade any of my tornadoes, any of the terrible things that have happened in my life. Not a single one. Because they gave me my chops. They made me who I am. And I like who I am.

No tornado, no adventure.

I’m not saying you should write a thank-you note to the tornadoes in your life (because sometimes tornadoes are people–you know it and I know it). But I am saying that a story without a tornado (a little drama to shake things up) is no story at all. That is–no tornado, no adventure. And not that you should go inviting storms into your life (don’t worry–they’ll invite themselves), but consider that a storm may be the only force capable of prompting you to dig deep and unlock the power, beauty, and magic that you’ve been hiding within yourself–let’s face it–for way too long. This is, after all, how nature works. Only under pressure does a piece of coal turn into a diamond.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Nothing was made to last forever.

"

On One’s Inner World (Blog #552)

It’s day six working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and last night we stopped rehearsal abruptly when the fog machines set off the fire alarm. And whereas the actors were released early (the stage was FULL of fog), the crew stayed to work on sets and props. My job was to “spruce up” the flower pots used in Oz, one of which is broken in half and turned into a crown for The Lion when he sings If I Were the King of the Forest. This involved hot-glueing some foam around the edges, painting the foam gold, painting the rest green, then re-arranging the flowers and greenery.

Here’s a look at the finished products.

Since “the locals” didn’t have to report until one this afternoon, this morning I got to sleep in–at least a little–until eight-thirty. And weird–just like yesterday, I woke up in THE BEST mood. However, unlike yesterday, my joy has NOT dissipated. Currently it’s six in the evening, and I’m still all grins and giggles.

Go figure.

From ten to noon, I taught a dance lesson at my friend Bonnie’s house for a man and his daughter, who’s getting married this weekend. I imagine this has a lot to do with my good mood. First, dance is such a delightful thing, and it’s wonderful work, helping a dad dance with his daughter. Second, I’m in my element when I’m teaching dance. You know, it’s my thing. It makes me happy.

And it’s ALWAYS GOOD to get paid for doing something you love.

This afternoon at the Alma Performing Arts Center, we ran the show–from start to finish–without stopping. And whereas some of the cast has been practicing in partial costumes, today was the first time everyone was in full costume with full makeup. Oh my gosh, y’all–it was absolute magic. There’s so much talent here, and it’s such a glorious story. Whenever I don’t have sets or props to move, I hide behind one of the curtains and just watch.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, there’s a land that I dreamed of once in a lullaby, where troubles melt like lemon drops…

That rainbow song gets me almost every time. Who hasn’t dreamed of a better place, a better life? I know I have. I do–all the time. The lovely thing is that I’m beginning to think it’s actually possible, that you can have what you dream of, that your entire world can turn on a dime for the better. And yet, I know that I’m already in a better place than I used to be, even though I physically haven’t gotten out of the county I grew up in. Likewise, I have a better life than I used to, even though you wouldn’t guess it if you were to look at the clothes I wear or add up the amount of money I bring home. But on the inside–where it counts–EVERYTHING looks better than it did before.

Joseph Campbell says all the myths and fairy tales are about changes in consciousness. As I’ve said before, this is evidenced in Dorothy’s story–who at first is unable to save her everything, her Toto, from Miss Gulch but later is able to find it within herself to “melt her fears” by dissolving The Wicked Witch of the West. Campbell says, “The hero’s journey always begins with the call. One way or another, a guide must come to say, ‘Look, you’re in Sleepy Land. Wake. Come on a trip. There is a whole aspect of your consciousness, your being, that’s not been touched. So you’re at home here? Well, there’s not enough of you there.’ And so it starts.”

Since I re-read this quote recently, I’ve been fixated on the part that says, “So you’re at home here? Well, there’s not enough of you there.” To me this means that OF COURSE it’s COMFORTABLE to think the same thoughts you’ve always thought and do the same things you’ve always done; OF COURSE it’s UNCOMFORTABLE to change. In my experience, like Dorothy’s, it takes every ounce of your brains, your courage, and your heart to overcome your fears, change your habits and behavior, and transform you inner world. But when you do The Hard Work, what used to be black-and-white transforms to color. It’s that dramatic. And it’s not that the outer world has changed; it’s that YOU have.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Everything is progressing as it should.

"

The View from Stage Left (Blog #550)

Today is day four working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and it’s once again dinner time. This has been an interesting experiment, getting up early (at 7:45) and working all day. Last night we left at 11; I think I finally passed out about 1. Due to this schedule, dinner is really the only time I have to blog. That’s another interesting thing, forcing my brain to pump out a post in about an hour. (Dinner is an hour and a half, and it takes me about twenty to thirty minutes to edit after having written). Anyway, currently I’m sitting backstage, stage left, in the dark at a prop table. I’m surrounded by a butterfly net, a giant hourglass, and the bucket of water Dorothy uses to melt the old witch.

Which old witch? The wicked witch.

Stage Left is where I spent all of last night, this morning, and this afternoon. As of now, everyone here is “running the show,” going scene-by-scene and song-by-song working out lights, sound, choreography, and everything else. As I’m part of the prop team, my job has been to help move sets and props on and off at the appropriate times. I wish you could see what goes on back here. I wish you had the view from stage left. For all the magic that happens on stage, there are dozens of people making it happen backstage. It’s this magical machine that’s planned down to the smallest detail. (For example, pulley ropes, light cues, and pieces of tape that designate where the sets go–called spike marks–are all color-coded.)

My predominant thoughts today–

1. On synchonicity

The universe is real trip sometimes. In yesterday’s blog I casually mentioned feeling like Bob Ross, since I’ve been painting so much. Well, not an hour later, I struck up a conversation with one of the carpenters on the tour and noticed that he was wearing a Bob Ross lanyard! There was Bob’s face hanging around his neck, and the exact quote I’d used written along the lanyard itself. “We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”

Crazy.

2. On receiving

In the last few weeks, I’ve blogged twice about the rich symbolism contained within the story of The Wizard of Oz, once in my birthday blog, and most recently here. I won’t go over the whole thing again, but suffice it to say this is a story that clearly speaks to my consciousness, as it’s about finding your voice, facing your worst fears, and becoming self-empowered, and this is a journey I’ve been on (or at least am currently on, since I’m not sure one ever “gets there”). Anyway, I think it’s pretty fantastic that I should end up HERE backstage at THIS SHOW. What a gift to receive. I’m absolutely having the time of my life. Thinking about what all that had to happen to bring me and this show together–well, it nearly brings me to tears.

Here’s a stage view of the Tin Man’s House and the Forest Trees that I helped paint/touch up.

3. On what one witch says to another

There’s a line in the show that I’d forgotten about, but which stopped me in my tracks when I heard it today. Dorothy has just gotten to Oz, and The Wicked Witch of the West is threatening her. Remember–she’s not really upset that her sister is dead, but is QUITE pissed off that Dorothy has taken her sister’s shiny shoes. (It’s always about footwear.) Anyway, Dorothy is shaking in her boots–well, her ruby red slippers–but then Glinda the Good Witch (who represents Dorothy’s guiding consciousness) says, “Be gone! You have no power here.”

Wow, what a powerful lesson. What a beautiful command to remember whenever our fears present themselves to us. “Be gone! You have no power here.”

4. On reaching the emerald city

After a full day of running the show, we’re just to the part where Dorothy and her friends reach The Emerald City. I’m still working the symbology of The Emerald City out, but I would compare it to my therapist’s office in my own tale. It’s where you go for hope. However, it’s also the place where you think someone else is going to solve your problems (like, Dorothy and her friends want The Great Oz to answer all their requests), but later find out that you have to do The Hard Work yourself; you still have to melt your witch (that is, face your shadow) and get yourself back home.

God, it’s such a long journey. So very fucking long and difficult. (I don’t recommend it; watch Netflix instead.) Anyway, when Dorothy and her friends first arrive, The Emerald City Gatekeeper says, “Have you come far?” Yes, of course, they have. We all have. So very fucking far. The Gatekeeper’s response?

“Believe me, every step is worth it.”

Honestly, this has been my experience. THE JOURNEY is tough stuff, but every difficult step is more than worth it. The results are so much better than anything Netflix has to offer. So run away, find your brain, your courage, and your own good heart, and kill your witches. Then get yourself back home, my dear. But know this–no one will believe the journey you’ve been on. (Dorthy’s family didn’t believe her.) No matter, since YOU will know–you’ve transformed. You’re different than you were before.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

There’s a power that comes when you meet life’s challenges head-on. Those are the times you breathe the deepest. Those are the times the waters come forth and your heart beats every bit as loud as the thunder claps. Those are the times you know more than ever—no matter what happens next—in this moment, you’re alive.

"

On My Defenses (Blog #548)

Today is day two working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and it’s currently dinner time. Yesterday evening I worked along with my supervisor painting the wicked witch’s castle and was absolutely rung out when we called it a night at 10:30. I had paint everywhere. Still, the cool thing about working on these pieces is finding out how all the smoke and mirrors work. For instance, despite the fact that the bottom or inside of the witch’s castle is hollow, they make it looks like she melts into the floor. Absolute magic!

Take a look at the almost-finished product. There’s just a little touch up to do.

This morning we unloaded the final semi truck, then hung the backdrops up. This is apparently called a Drop Party. (Drop it like it’s hot.) Here’s something fun–this show uses 6 to 8 painted drop cloths, which I was told can easily cost $10,000 a piece. Think about that the next time you think ticket prices are high. Entertainment this good doesn’t come cheap! Anyway, all the painted cloths are missing a section in one of their bottom corners, a part that’s been deliberately cut out. This is called a Boston Square, since the city of Boston requires that a section of all drop cloths be cut out, sent in, and verified as flame retardant.

This afternoon I worked repairing and touching up two giant trees that are used in Oz. This has been my favorite project so far, as it’s been a lot like repairing and touching up walls–patch the holes, sand them down, cover up the scuff marks. But in this case, since both trees are completely blue, it was just a matter of mixing darks and lights and “swirling” them together with my hands. Y’all, it was like finger painting. So fun. So pretty. That being said, my fingers are a complete mess. I guess the sticky foam I used to patch the holes and the super glue I used to put some of the chipped-off pieces back on also STICK TO HUMAN FLESH. (Mine). So now I look like I murdered a Smurf with my bare hands.

Here’s a picture of me and the tree trunks. The tree tops are currently hidden behind one of the side curtains (which are called “legs”). But I swear–they look gorgeous.

After I finished with the trees, I worked a little more on the witch’s castle, then returned to Dorothy’s house, which was one of my projects yesterday. Y’all, this house is the bane of my existence. One of the boards needed to be replaced, so my job has been to make the new board look like the others. This is almost impossible, since each board is a mixture of–I don’t know–half a dozen paints. And despite the fact that my supervisor keeps calling me an artist, I’m much more comfortable smearing paints with my fingers than I am using a brush to try to make a new board look like an old board. Anyway, I nearly started crying, as my inner perfectionist was really giving me shit about the whole affair. “This isn’t good enough,” he kept saying.

But then, like an angel, my supervisor said, “That looks AWESOME, Marcus. Be done!”

Sometimes we are our own worst critic. And by “sometimes,” I mean, “all the time.”

This last year I’ve blogged several times with my problem/obsession with body odor. The issue started after I’d been on antibiotics, and I’ve tried everything under the sun to clear it up. Well, I really thought I had it tackled. I haven’t noticed it in a solid month. But every time I’ve raised my arms today, I’ve thought, Dear God, is that me?! I don’t know–maybe it’s just normal “man smell” and not what I dealt with before. It’s been such a struggle and point of neurosis for me, I really can’t be objective about it. But it’s still been stressing me out. It’s one thing to be offensive to myself, but I don’t want to be offensive to anyone else. And whereas during this ENTIRE ordeal, no one has avoided me or said anything about it (even my friends with whom I dance), I keep imagining myself as Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, walking around with a cloud of stench about me.

This is me AFTER four years of therapy.

Not last night but the night before, I dreamed that an acquaintance of mine, whom I would describe as a kind, gentle man, was wearing a concealed pistol on his right shoulder. When I woke up, I thought, This has to do with the fact that I’m so defensive, always on guard. Like, I know my inner perfectionist is SUCH A HARD ASS because deep down, I’m really afraid of not being good enough. Perhaps more than that, I’m afraid of making someone mad or angry, even though I can’t remember the last time someone “went off” on me. And I think it’s appropriate that the pistol was on this guy’s right shoulder, as my right shoulder is where I carry A LOT of tension and is the cause–I think–of the headaches I get at least two or three times a week. They’re miserable–exhausting. Being constantly on guard is miserable–exhausting. So I’ve been telling myself I’ve got to get this gun off my shoulder. I can’t keep being so hard on myself. I have to let my defenses down.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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

"

My Emotional Oil Can (#547)

It’s six in the evening, and I’ve been working–like, honest to god working–since eight this morning. Y’all, this is manual labor–for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz–unloading boxes, painting sets, whatever they want (that’s what I do). I didn’t even know this was a thing, working backstage for a touring musical. But apparently this show hires three or four dozen locals wherever they go. I got involved because I have a friend who runs the performing arts center here in Alma, where the show will go on next weekend.

As I understand it, a show will often “load in” the day before or even the day of a performance and “load out” the day after. However, the crew and all their equipment came in a full week early in order to touch up sets and run rehearsals for anyone new on staff. So this is my full-time job for the next ten days, including today. Anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day, with union-mandated breaks for lunch and dinner. I’m currently on my dinner break–in my car–blogging.

I’ve got an hour to finish writing. And eat something. I should probably eat something.

This morning I helped unload boxes full of god knows what from three semis. I guess the show has four semis, but one isn’t here yet. Then I stood around for a good while doing really not a damn thing. As someone who’s used to being productive every minute of every damn day, this was a challenge for me–to wait. I mean, I’m being paid and WANT to be useful, helpful. But I guess that’s part of the deal–you work when someone asks you to work–which someone did eventually ask me to do. “Can you pick up donuts for everyone?” my friend said.

“Gladly,” I said.

Y’all, I don’t know if this donut thing is going to happen every day, but I personally think god has a sick sense of humor–asking a man who’s trying to lose weight to be the donut runner. Can you believe that I picked up 120 donuts and a dozen bagels for everyone here and didn’t eat a single one of them? Instead, I ate a protein bar.

We’ll see how long my resolve lasts.

At lunch I ran home to grab a change of clothes, as I was assigned to the prop mistress, and she said we’d be painting sets. I think that’s the right term, prop mistress. Regardless, I’m this girl’s bitch, and I’ve even been given an official title–prop head. That means that the other three or four prop people will be my bitches–I think. (I’m trying to not let it go to my head.) Anyway, back to the painting. I thought I gave that up when I quit remodeling houses, but no. I’ve spent the entire afternoon working on Dorothy’s house (that goes through the tornado and lands on the Wicked Witch of the East), the scarecrow’s post/cornfield, and–I think–Aunt Em’s chicken coop.

This process, I hate to admit, has been more stressful than I anticipated. As one of the boards on Dorothy’s house was damaged, I had to start with a blank piece of plywood and mix layer of paint with layer of paint until it looked like old, rickety wood. What’s more, it had to match–or blend–with the rest of the house. Of course, I’ve had to do all this to someone else’s specifications, which has been a humbling lesson for me. I’m so used to being in charge, especially in charge of all my creative endeavors. But today I’ve been the student, “the help.” When critiqued, my ego has hated it. When praised, it’s soared.

Criticism and praise. Two sides of the same coin. Either way, same pay.

It’s fascinating being on this side of a musical, all the little details you’d never think of sitting in your seat watching the show, the lights and cords you never see–the hidden doors and hinges. It all matters. As I’ve agonized over every brush stroke, I’ve thought, The better this is, the more magic it creates for the audience. On the back of the Tin Man’s set, there’s a note that says, “Did you remember the oil can?” This clearly has to do with the show, but I started thinking about the Tin Man and how he represents a person’s heart, and how a person’s heart can freeze up or get rusty if they don’t take care of it with their emotional oil can. Personally, I keep thinking, Am I finding reasons to complain, or to be grateful? Am I taking things personally, or giving grace to others and myself? Am I freezing up, or keeping my heart open?

Am I remembering my emotional oil can?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Sometimes you have to give up wanting something before you can have it.

"