The Wisdom of Aeolus (Blog #527)

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Today was a repeat of yesterday, meaning I spent eight hours–from four to midnight–cleaning house for my friends who recently moved out-of-state. It’s a slow, repetitive process. One room at a time, I clean the windows, scrub the walls (and cabinets), wash the baseboards, sweep the floor, then mop the floor. But I’m making progress; the house has four levels, and I’ve got two of them knocked out. I even started on the third level before I left tonight. And whereas my inner completionist (I just made that word up) wanted to keep going, I forced myself to stop cleaning and go home (stopping on my way at the above-pictured dumpster to throw some stuff away). After all, I don’t have a deadline, and it wouldn’t hurt for me to get some sleep.

It wouldn’t hurt at all.

When not running the vacuum, I spent most of my time this evening listening to lectures by my man Joseph Campbell. In one of his talks, he told the story of Odysseus, Homer’s famous hero from The Odyssey. One section of the tale particularly stood out to me. Perhaps you remember it. Odysseus and his men are stuck on an island and need to get home. So Aeolus, the keeper of the winds, bags up the four winds in an ox-skin bag and tells Odysseus to use them to sail his ship. But Aeolus cautions–don’t open the bag all at once. Well, Odysseus does as he’s told, but while he’s sleeping, his men (who are under the impression that it contains gold) tear open the bag like a bunch of toddlers ripping into a piñata.

Surprise, suckas!

Of course, all hell breaks loose, and Odysseus and the boys end up not having any wind left to sail their ship. Later, they go back to Aeolus and ask for another bag, but he says, “Screw you. You had your chance.” So our hero is left with no other choice–he must find another way home.

Campbell says the lesson here is that you can’t use up all your spiritual energy at once–you’ve got to pace yourself. This is why the soul’s journey is so often depicted AS a journey and not–I don’t know–as a teleportation. Personal and spiritual growth are INTENDED to happen slowly, in pieces and increments. My therapist echoes this sentiment. “If all-of-a-sudden you became conscious of your unconscious or your shadow, you’d have a nervous breakdown,” she’s fond of saying.

Personally, this is a good lesson for me to keep in mind. I get in such a hurry about almost everything, whether that’s cleaning a house, reading a book (gotta get to the last page NOW!), healing a problem, or reaching my highest potential. Go-go-go. Let’s get this over with. But I’m learning (slowly) that this strategy doesn’t make sense, and is–in fact–impossible. Cleaning a house and reading a book take time, just like cleaning up your past or letting go of your fears take time. It’s just the way of it. And surely this is the gift OF TIME, that we can pace ourselves as we sail across the ocean of life, that we can GENTLY and STEADILY make our way home.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All your scattered pieces want to come back home.

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The Emptying (Blog #526)

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It’s two in the morning, and I’ve spent the entire day–well, my entire day–cleaning. Some of my friends recently moved out-of-state, so I’m getting their house ready for their realtor to put on the market. And whereas it’s not hard work, it is long work, since I’m scrubbing the walls, washing the baseboards, and making sure every little nook and cranny is spic-and-span. This afternoon and evening I worked for eight hours and got three rooms–including the kitchen–finished. So that’s something.

Having spent a few weeks helping these same friends pack for their move, it really is something, walking around in their empty house. I mean, there was SO MUCH stuff before. You know how it is–possessions are magnetic–and since my friends were in the same place for nearly three decades, it all just accumulated. But now there’s not a lick of furniture, not a picture on the walls. There’s just a dust bunny here and there, a bottle of ketchup in the refrigerator, and box of lightbulbs for whoever ends up buying the house.

Whoever ends up buying the house–I thought about this person or persons while cleaning today. My friends’ realtor came over, and she talked about what buyers like, what they don’t like. “Families with young children might have a problem with the steep stairs,” she said. Anyway, I’m still wondering–who will end up there? Who will move into that empty (and soon-to-be-clean) house, fill it with their furniture and knickknacks, and make it their new home?

Whom am I helping to get it ready for?

For a few weeks I’ve had it in my mind to pack up a bunch of paperback books that have been on the shelves that run around the top of my room and store them in my sister’s old closet, since the books belong to Mom and Dad and everything else on display in the room belongs to me. Anyway, my friends left some empty boxes at their house, so I used those when I got home from cleaning tonight to pack up the books and tote them down the hallway out of my sight and out of my mind. Then I came back in my room and cleaned the shelves, an activity that ended up being a trip down memory lane, since I found two small nails and a glob of sticky-tack placed just above one of the shelves, remnants I’m sure of pictures or action figures I had displayed when I was much younger.

Once I got the shelves clean, my first instinct was to fill them. After all, nature abhors a vacuum, and so do I. However, when I started looking for things to put on the shelves, I realized first that I don’t really own anything and second that the three books I do have that need a place to go would look stupid up there surrounded by twenty feet of emptiness. So for now the shelves remain barren. And just like I wonder who will move into the house I’m cleaning, I wonder WHAT will move onto my shelves.

There’s a phrase in the Bible I’ve been thinking about for the last week–poor in spirit. You know, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” As I understand it, this phrase isn’t about money or a person’s external life but rather about a person’s internal one, the idea being that before you can be filled with new ideas, perceptions, or values, you first have to make yourself empty (or poor) by getting rid of whatever ideas, perceptions, or values currently fill you up. Jesus communicated this same idea when he said that in order to obtain salvation, you must first become like a child (who has no preconceived notions).

Anyway, this is what my life has felt like the last two years–the emptying–both with respect to my material possessions and to my immaterial ones. Nothing looks like what I thought it would on the outside. Nothing feels like it used to on the inside. Honestly, the results-oriented part of me is often embarrassed by everything that’s taken place during this period; so many days I feel like an empty shelf–nothing to show. And yet just like the house I’m cleaning or the shelves that run atop my room, I know it’s just a matter of time before I too am filled with whatever will come next. And until then, what a beautiful thing to have some extra room, a space that’s not full yet, a space that’s ripe with possibility.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s hard to say where a kindness begins or ends.

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Me and My Body (Blog #525)

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It’s six in the evening, and I’m at Panera Bread eating a salad and NOT drinking a beer because I just came from my doctor’s office. And whereas she said my cholesterol was not great but headed in the right direction (down) and my other numbers looked good, when we talked about my upset stomach she said, “Are you more stressed lately?–Has your diet changed?–Are you drinking more alcohol?”

“Yes–yes–yes,” I said. (Is this the Inquisition?!)

So now I’m trying to work on those things by treating myself “a little better.” (YUM–salad!) Additionally, my doctor wrote me a prescription for an acid blocker, which she said I could drop in favor of ginger tablets once things calm down significantly.

In terms of my up-and-down energy levels, she said both my testosterone and thyroid levels were good–nothing to worry about. Likewise, my B12 levels are UP, so I “should be” feeling more energized, which I suppose I am. (Woo!) “Do you wake up in the morning READY TO GO and EXCITED to face the day?” she asked. “That’s not exactly my experience,” I replied. So she suggested it might be a matter of whether or not I’m getting good REM sleep. “My sleep is unpredictable,” I said. “I’m kind of a night owl.” Thankfully, she said the TIME I went to bed didn’t really matter, so long as I was CONSISTENT about it. Otherwise, my body could easily get confused about when to go to sleep and when to wake up.

As my sleep patterns really are all over the place, I immediately imagined my body throwing up its hands in frustration and asking me, “What THE HELL is going on with you, mister?!”

To which I then imagined myself replying, “You know, that’s an excellent question.”

Otherwise, my doctor said I was in good shape. And whereas this is–once again–good news, it’s also a real head-scratcher for me. I mean, I have had some significant health problems this last year, so the fact that all my blood work keeps coming back as “next to stellar” is somewhat of a mystery to me. And yet, I am happy about it–this is cause to celebrate. Life isn’t as bad as I thought it was. MY life isn’t as bad as I thought it was.

It’s occurred to me recently that I often over-complicate things. (No. Not You, Marcus. Surely you jest!) But really, life has, plenty of times, BEEN complicated, and I’ve realized slowly over the last year or two that “complicated” has consequently become my expectation. This manifests itself as all-or-nothing thinking such as, I HAVE to FULLY commit to a diet, I HAVE to exercise EVERY DAY, or I HAVE to try fifteen prescription medications or natural remedies BEFORE one of them will work.

You know–complicated.

If this sort of thinking sounds like it would be exhausting, it is. Because isn’t it POSSIBLE that there are simple answers to the problems in our lives–at least simpler than we might have imagined? Like, get some better rest, drink more water, or take some ginger tablets? Couldn’t I just cut back, rather than cut out, beer and chocolate chip cookies? Couldn’t I just eat MORE salads instead of ALL salads?

Couldn’t I–I don’t know–go easy on myself for a change?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Help is always on the way.

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On Seeing Constellations and Yourself (Blog #524)

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Last night my dad and I went to a concert in Van Buren. My sister and I bought the tickets for Mom and Dad for Dad’s birthday, but since the concert ended up being the same day as Mom’s surgery (which I blogged about yesterday), I went with Dad instead. And since my friend Bonnie graciously volunteered to come over and sit with Mom while Dad and I were gone, we didn’t have to “worry” about Mom being alone while we were out having a good time. Well, as good of a time as you can have at a gospel concert where the age of the average attendee is “one foot in the grave.”

Amen?

Anyway, when Dad and I got back from the concert, I took Bonnie out to eat as a thank-you (per Dad’s suggestion). Bonnie drove, however, which ended up being the perfect thing because Bonnie has a convertible and–after dinner–said, “You wanna go cruising?” Well, I of course said yes, and for maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour, Bonnie both tootled and sped along the back roads of Van Buren.

Y’all, it was the perfect thing on the perfect night, and the majority of the time I had my head titled back toward the heavens, star-gazing. I learned recently that the constellations include nine birds, three of which can be seen from the Northern Hemisphere, and two of which are connected to the Summer Triangle, which are the three bright stars you could easily spot overhead if you were to look up any summer evening. Anyway, there they were–Aquila the Eagle and Cygnus the Swan (often called the Northern Cross)–soaring.

This afternoon I saw my therapist and brought up a couple of things that I’ve already mentioned here–the first being my recent dream about dead bodies, the second being my experience with someone being passive aggressive.

With respect to my gory dream about dead bodies (that were cut up in pieces), my therapist agreed that it was about all the “non-productive” parts of my psyche that I’m discarding (like people-pleasing, approval-seeking, perfectionism, and self-judgment). “And no wonder you were terrified in the dream,” she said. “This kind of work is unsettling, and God knows that working with me is NOT for the faint of heart.” Then she addressed another part of the dream that I didn’t blog about originally–the fact that there were cops from whom I was trying to hide the dead bodies. “That’s your inner authority,” she said, “the part of you that wonders, Is is REALLY okay to be myself?” Then she paused. “So what do you think–is it okay to be yourself?”

“Yes,” I said. “It most certainly is.”

With respect to my being DIRECT with someone who had been PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE, when I told my therapist that I’d called this person out, she almost jumped out of her chair and started doing the Macarena. Then, since this wasn’t the first time I’ve either been passive aggressive or had someone else be passive aggressive, we talked about the idea that certain challenges show up in our lives over and over again UNTIL we figure out the best way–the most direct, honest, and kind way–of dealing with them. This isn’t the perfect analogy, but it’s like the universe sends us “tests” until we get a “passing” grade–then it’s on to something else. “Since you’ve handled this situation so differently than you have historically, my guess is your future experiences with passive aggressiveness will drop by at least fifty percent,” she said.

Last night while Bonnie and I were out driving, I identified two constellations that I recently read about and had never seen before–Sagitta (the Arrow) and Delphinus (the Dolphin), both of which are located nearby or “above” Aquila the Eagle. Since all the stars in both constellations aren’t very bright (unlike me and you, dear reader), it took a while to find them. I kept thinking, Is that them? But after comparing the sky to my handy-dandy constellation phone app, I was sure of it–I’d found them. The best part? I looked for them again tonight, and they’re still there!

I’m coming to think of parts of my personality this way, as constellations I’m just learning to see clearly. Not that they weren’t there before–those parts of me that are direct, bold, and self-accepting–they just weren’t defined or highlighted. And here’s the most beautiful thing about seeing a new constellation or a new part of yourself–you can’t UN-SEE it ever again. Just as the summer sky will never not include the Dolphin and the Arrow for me, my personality will never not include, or at least have access to, its stronger, healthier aspects because I can see them now. I can see–me–now.

[Tonight’s star/constellation image is from the Stellarium app. For a bigger, better version, right-click the image and select “Open Image in New Tab.”]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

Finding Some Way to Un-clutch (Blog #523)

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This morning, after going to bed at 1:00 and sleeping for three short hours, I woke up at 4:00 and–I’m not kidding–got ready for the day, since Mom was scheduled to have surgery at the ungodly hour of 7:00 (AM). “Be there at 5:00,” they said, so we were–me, Dad, and of course Mom–who’s wanted this surgery since January when she had her double mastectomy and the doctor left “excess skin.” Obviously, it’s personal (and I’m my mom’s son), but she said things just haven’t “looked right,” and the doctor today was going to fix them. And I get that, the need to go back and clean things up, the need to have everything just so. But must we do these things so frickin’ early in the morning?!

The only consolation was the fact that Mom’s doctor was smoking hot.

But I digress.

The surgery itself went well, and everything–registration, prep, surgery, recovery–only took four hours, during which time Dad and I grabbed breakfast (and saw a full rainbow), read, and harassed the other people in the waiting room. Well, Dad did the harrassing. “Have you read that magazine?” he asked a complete stranger. “MY SON HERE wrote an article in it!” Not surprised by my father’s behavior, I looked up from my book to the lady before me and tried to manage a smile.

“Hi,” I said.

After leaving the hospital, Mom, Dad, and I ran a couple errands and came back home, and I went straight back to bed until one this afternoon. Then I went to a used book store, since–I thought–that would be a good thing to do on a Friday. However, I discovered upon arriving at the bookstore that today is, in fact, NOT Friday, but rather Tuesday (and the bookstore ISN’T open on Tuesdays). I swear, I felt so turned around and confused. How could I not know what day it was? That being said, I haven’t had a regular schedule in a while, we just came off a holiday weekend, and I WAS up EXTREMELY early this morning.

Already frustrated, I decided to use the rest of the afternoon doing everything I didn’t want to do but needed to do, things like requesting some of my personal medical records (from the car accident I was in last year) and paying my property taxes and other bills. Just get it all over with, I told myself.

Recently I wrote about the parking ticket I got when I visited San Francisco and the protest I filed in reply. Well, I got the city’s response today, and they didn’t buy it. “Screw you,” they said in not so many words. Well, to be fair, they said, “You should have known to turn your wheels when parking on a hill. That’s a thing. So pay up.” Anyway, again–in an effort to get something unpleasant over with–I paid the ticket today too. (The City of San Francisco conveniently takes payments online.) But still–I’ve been thinking a lot about it, since it really is drag. Part of life, maybe, but a drag nonetheless. $69 down the drain because I made an honest mistake.

But here’s the thing–a lot of shit things happen in life. Maybe you’re happy when you’re a small child. You’re happy for no reason, really. And then your mom gets sick, your house burns down, the neighbor kid’s an asshole, your dad goes to prison, you’re in a car wreck (or two), and–I don’t know–you fall in love with Satan. (I’m just pulling stuff out of the air here.) But you know, this is life. We accumulate baggage. And yeah, sometimes it’s big baggage; sometimes it’s little baggage, little things that get under your skin that you inevitably gripe about–things like living with your parents, not feeling well or not having a job, or the fact that you got a parking ticket.

Again, these are just random examples.

In my experience, somewhere along the way–because of the shit we go through and the shit we hang onto–we lose a certain amount of our childlike happiness. In exchange, we get our irritations, complaints, and things to bitch about. We get to “be right.” This is the ATTRACTIVE thing about baggage; it’s part of why we clutch tightly to it. We get to think or say, “Can you believe what those assholes did to me?” and “Fuck them AND the horse they rode in on.”

Like anyone rides in on horses anymore. But here’s my point–as much as baggage is kind of fun–as much as being upset about a parking ticket gives me something to blog and bitch about–baggage is baggage is baggage. In other words, baggage–big or small–is by definition heavy and weighs a person down. This is why, having protested and lost, I immediately paid the parking ticket this afternoon. I’m TIRED of CARRYING that issue or problem around. I was just fine before it showed up and DON’T want to carry that problem into tomorrow. Honestly, I don’t want to carry ANY of my past into my future.

The past is too heavy to carry around.

The past, after all, is simply too heavy to carry around. This is why Jesus said, “Let the dead bury the dead.” He wasn’t being unfeeling; he was being practical. It’s over. Let it go, Nancy. Forgive. (And if that doesn’t work, forgive again). Forgiveness–I don’t use that word very often on this blog, but I’ve used ever other word or combination of words that mean the same thing–letting go, patience, self-acceptance. Forgiveness is what I mean when I say that I get the need to go back and clean things up, to get everything just so. That’s what I’m doing here on this blog, after all–cleaning things up and forgiving the past, finding SOME WAY to look at all the shit and baggage in my life and NOT hang onto it, finding SOME WAY to un-clutch and start tomorrow lighter and more childlike, more free.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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Trying to Listen to Myself (Blog #522)

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When I went to bed last night I was in a bad mood, completely frustrated about everything. This sucks, that sucks–even my thinking sucks, I thought. Ick. My inner critic really can be relentless sometimes–so loud–such a bastard. Thankfully, a good night’s rest helped hush him up. This morning, after I scarfed down a decent breakfast and two cups of coffee, I felt much better.

Today itself–Labor Day–has gone well. For one thing, I took time to read. I love reading. For another thing, I washed the sheets on my bed, something I haven’t done in–well–months. Then I washed myself, something I haven’t done in–well–days. And that’s been it–just a simple day during which I took time to clean up a few things and get this and that in back in order.

A reset.

I suppose this is what sleep is–a reset–a basic cleaning-up of daily crap and emotions. The brain’s way of saying, let’s put this here and that there, and let’s throw this away. Of course, I’m grateful for this. I’m glad my attitude today has been better than my attitude last night. It’s nice to NOT want to put a pencil in the eye of everyone you come into contact with. That being said, I’m thinking more and more that my difficult thoughts and emotions are there for a reason, that they have something important to communicate to me, something I should LISTEN to.

I know I’ve shoved a lot down over the years. Something will upset me–like, someone will cross a boundary, let’s say–or my body will experience physical pain, and I’ll just “be nice,” ignore the problem, or otherwise grin and bear it. Having used this strategy consistently for the better part of three decades, I do NOT recommend it. Because it’s not the truth. THE TRUTH is that I’m frustrated, angry, and pissed off about a lot of things. Likewise, my body is stressed out, upset, and in pain in a number of places. And whereas my default response is to take a pill and keep on plugging, I’m TRYING to pay more attention and decipher the messages my body and soul are sending me.

This, I think, is one of the benefits to being tired or sick–it gives all the stuff you’ve shoved down a chance to rise to the surface. And not that I want to run around emotionally vomiting on everyone I come in contact with, but I DO want to start honoring and giving voice to all those emotions that I’ve been ignoring for so long. For me this looks like listening to my gut and DOING something about it. For example, recently I had an experience with someone who was being passive aggressive (that is to say, aggressive), despite the fact that they said they weren’t. “No, I’m not upset,” they said. But clearly they were–so I confronted them. “I need you to be direct if you have a problem with me,” I said. And y’all, it was the weirdest thing. The words were coming out of my mouth, but it was like someone else–or at least another part of me– was saying them. I assume this odd sensation is because I’m so used to hearing myself “be nice.”

In addition to listening to my gut and DOING something about it, honoring myself also looks like listening to my body and TAKING CARE of it. For me this means that when my body hurts, I’m trying to not immediately shut it down, but rather go inside and try to give space for the pain to exist. Likewise, I’m trying to go inside and decipher the messages my body is sending me. Having lately tried a few “go inside” exercises that I picked up in a book about illness and healing–and having had good results–I’m convinced that our bodies are not only alive, but also intelligent, conscious, and capable of healing.

This idea–that my mind, body, and emotions are on my side, that we’re all in this together–has been a tough one for me to come around to. That being said, I like it a lot better than the opposite idea, the idea that my mind, body, and emotions are somehow “bad” or against me, something for me to suppress, repress, or overcome. Because I truly do believe there is wisdom here, not just deep down inside me, but throughout me–wisdom that is here to help, guide, and protect me. So I’m trying to listen to myself–I’m trying to finally listen to myself–to let all parts of me be heard.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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Another Star Rises (Blog #521)

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Last night before I left my cousin’s house, his daughter put my hair in a pony tail then put my t-shirt in one as well–by scrunching up one end and wrapping a pink rubber band around it. She thought it was so cute. Truth be told, I did too. “I feel like an 80s lady,” I beamed. Still, as Dad and I walked out the door, I removed the “pony tails” and gave my cousin’s daughter back her rubber bands. You know–

All good things must come to an end.

During the drive back to Arkansas, while we were passing through a particularly dark patch of road, I asked Dad if we could pull over and look at stars. (He said yes). Oh my gosh, y’all, there was my dear friend The Milky Way and her cast of characters all around her–The Big Dipper, Draco, Cassiopeia, The Northern Cross, Scorpius–each of them in all their glory. Considering how long it’s been since I’ve seen them so clearly, it really was the most refreshing thing, a much-needed site. “It truly is wonderful,” Dad said.

Recently my aunt asked me what I love about the stars, so I’ve been trying to put my finger on it. Obviously, if you’ve had a chance to see the stars lately, they’re stunning. What’s more, in our often chaotic world, they’re something predictable. They appear to move about, of course, and do, but I like the fact that I can consistently find the same stars and shapes basically “where I left them.” There’s a sense of surety in that. But mostly I love the stars because no matter what kind of day I’m having–a good day or a shit day–I can lie down under the heavens and find peace. It’s like a forgetting of all my problems and worries. At the same time, it’s like a remembering that not only is everything connected, but also that I’m not supposed to have all the answers.

Wonderful, after all, means “full of wonder.”

Today I have been impressed with the fear that there’s not enough time. This afternoon the fear showed up with regard to reading, since I realized I’ve started–but not finished–over a dozen books in my personal library. And, despite the fact that I’ve been in therapy for four years and have come a long way in this department, there’s still part of me that feels like I “should” finish them. Like, a “better” person probably would. And yet, I’m having so much fun starting NEW books. Anyway, then the fear showed up with regard to the stars this evening when I went for a walk, since I realized a number of stars I could find consistently earlier this summer are no longer visible. This is due, of course, to the earth’s trek around the sun, which blocks our view of stars on the other side of it. In other words, as summer disappears, certain stars and planets (my friends!) disappear too.

And just when I was getting to know them.

It’s this weird paradox I have inside me. On the one hand, I feel like my life isn’t moving fast enough. On the other hand, I feel like it’s moving too fast. I think, An entire day has gone by, and there’s so much of that book left to read. Or, Wait, come back! I LOVED that star.

Toward the end of my walk tonight, this frustration with the speed of life hit me like a ton of bricks. I turn 38 soon, and there’s so much I wished would happen by now that hasn’t. Will these things ever happen? I don’t know. So many of our hopes and dreams, it seems, are like stars that slip slowly below the horizon. Maybe next year they’ll return. Of course, we forget–I forget–that with each setting star, another star rises. Tonight I spotted Capella for the first time, the brightest star (or group of stars, rather) in the constellation Auriga. What a delight she was! And no way I could have seen her in the spring. Surely this is the gift of seasons that change, stars that set, and books that we put down–of all good things and even dreams that come to an end–that as one wonderful thing disappears, another wonderful thing begins to shine.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t pick and choose what you receive from life, and you can’t always accurately label something as bad.

"

This Is the Good Life (Blog #520)

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Today I have given my insulin a run for its money, mostly in an effort to fulfill a promise to my father. (Mostly.) A couple months ago for Father’s Day I promised I’d take my dad for donuts and coffee, and then–when I never did–re-promised the same thing on his birthday, which was last week. Anyway, today was the day I finally made good on my promises. This morning I got up at the god-forsaken hour of eight o’clock, stumbled to my closet to put some clothes on, then drove my dad to Irish Maid Donuts, a Fort Smith classic.

Y’all, it was fabulous. Dad and I both got chocolate-filled donuts, and they were glorious. So tasty. Like crack. (That’s a joke, Mom. I don’t know what crack tastes like.) But really–those donuts were better than any relationship I’ve ever been in–and definitely cheaper. What’s more, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad so happy. He was grinning from ear to ear.

I’ve spent the rest of the day in an absolute daze, which I’m sure is a result of depriving myself of sleep (I went to bed at two last night) and flooding my body with insulin (I had three donuts this morning). This afternoon my dad and I drove my aunt to Oklahoma City to visit her son (my cousin) and grandchildren, and although I tried to read along the way, I ended up sleeping instead. My brain just wasn’t up to processing. (Enough learning, Marcus!) Even now I’m having a tough time–uh–uh–thinking. Of course, I’m sure it doesn’t help that I just ate a huge cheeseburger, a hot dog, a piece of chocolate cake, and two scoops of ice cream.

Mayday–mayday! Sugar–rush–can–not–function.

Still, even though I woke up before noon and can’t bet my brain to turn on, today has been a great day. Our family isn’t all that big, and especially since we’re a bit spread out, it’s really lovely to get together, chill out, and stuff our faces. The kids are playing a video dance game with my aunt, I’m sprawled out in a huge chair, and my cousin just brought me a cup off coffee. This is the good life. There’s no pressure here. That being said, Dad and I are about to hit the road and head for home. Even still, we’ve ingested enough sugar to carry us home. It’s Labor Day weekend, and although I have no plans,

I’m sure–
An adventure awaits.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

"

On Dreaming of Dead Bodies (Blog #519)

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I’d intended to do nothing today. Well, nothing except read, that is. You know, go easy on myself. Maybe take a nap, rest. And whereas that’s exactly what happened for the first part of the afternoon, the rest of the day has gone to pot. For one thing, our air conditioner broke, which means the house has been getting gradually hotter with each passing hour. And if that weren’t enough, our freezer stopped working too, which I noticed when I walked into the garage and stepped into the River Jordan.

“It probably just needs defrosting,” Dad said

“Like my sex life,” I replied.

So that’s been the evening. Right in the middle of dinner, the air-conditioner repair man showed up, then the freezer thing happened. So everyone’s been running inside and outside, the guy working on the air conditioner, and me, Mom, and Dad transferring all the food from the outside freezer to the inside one–cramming-cramming-cramming everything from TV dinners to chicken wings inside and–since all of it was covered in water–making a big damn mess in the process. Then we dragged the freezer into the driveway, hooked up the water hose, and sprayed the caked-up ice inside until it disappeared like all my hopes and dreams.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

Now it’s seven in the evening, and I’m straight-up irritated, mostly because I’d rather be reading a book or visiting some friends who invited me over earlier. But instead there’s the freezer project and this, the blog project. I mean, some days writing is a real source of inspiration and relief for me, and other days it’s just a pain in my ass. Like, there are times I’d like to chunk my laptop across the room and give the internet my middle finger. Seriously, I don’t recommend trying to become a better person. Just watch Netflix. Self-help and personal growth, let along sharing your every thought with the entire virtual world, is for the fucking birds.

And as if ALL THIS weren’t enough to get me worked up, now there are a million flies circling around me, the result of the back door being opened and closed so many times this evening.

Shoo, fly, shoo.

For two out of the last three nights, I’ve dreamed about dead bodies. In last night’s dream, I was trying to dispose of a dead body, first in a large body of cold water, then in a trash can. And whereas my therapist says dreams like this are good because dead bodies represent the discarding of no-longer-useful parts of one’s personality, they’re still not fun dreams to have. Again, in last night’s dream, there was an entire row of giant trash bins filled with trash. That’s good because it means I’m discarding a lot mental and emotional junk I don’t need. But still, there was a dead body–and all that trash–there was even blood. Talk about gross. Not exactly the best way to start your morning.

I say all this to point out–once again–that personal growth isn’t everything the books in the self-help aisle make it out to be. It can be a real bitch at times–ugly and uncomfortable. Because what do you do when a part of you–even a not-so-useful part of you–dies? What do you do when you’re USED to having a lot of mental and emotional STUFF around, then suddenly it’s no longer there? Personally, I find that part of me wants to celebrate The Great Letting Go, and part of me wants to hang on. Ugh. It’s so disorienting, so frustrating. You think, If I’m not that person with all that trash, WHO am I? And WHAT exactly AM I becoming?

I still don’t have an answer.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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On Myths and Where the Magic Happens (Blog #518)

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“For as God uses the help of our reason to illuminate us, so should we likewise turn it every way, that we may be more capable of understanding His mysteries; provided only that the mind be enlarged, according to its capacity, to the grandeur of the mysteries, and not the mysteries contracted to the narrowness of the mind.” — Francis Bacon

Today I have adjusted to being back home in Arkansas. By this I mean that I’ve spent the entirety of the day hiding from the rest of the world. I did make a few phone calls this afternoon and am currently at the dinner table blogging while my parents watch the nightly news and my laundry goes round and round–but otherwise I’ve been locked in my room reading three different books, all of which I’m having to swallow and digest in pieces. And whereas my default is to think, Ugh. I have so many MORE books that I want to read and finish, and there’s just NOT enough time, today I’ve been working on accepting the fact that there will ALWAYS be more books than I have time to read.

And good. I’d rather be overly fascinated with and wanting to learn from life than to be bored with it.

Earlier while reading a book about fears, I started thinking about the fact that all throughout elementary, junior high, high school, and college, I was a straight-A student. At one time I would have said this as a matter of pride, but now I don’t see it as something to brag about; it’s simply a fact. And whereas school always came easily and I didn’t really have to “try hard” to get good grades, I do remember being deathly afraid of getting a B–of being less than perfect.

Whatever perfect means.

Ick. I guess I’ve never been able to completely shake the feeling that less-than-average, average, and slightly better-than-average just aren’t good enough–it’s gotta be the best–I gotta be the best. (If you identify with this thinking, I can only assume that you’re as exhausted as I am.) This “affection for perfection” is what, I think, is ultimately behind my desire for everything in my life to be just so. I want my body to feel a certain way, I want my closet arranged in a particular order, and I want my books completely read. There is, after all, nothing like a to-do list or a to-read list that’s all checked off.

But this evening I thought, Give it a fucking rest, Nancy. You don’t have to finish every book you start. What’s wrong with being a B reader?! Which felt good. Later, while updating my website and the fees I charge for different services (like teaching dance or remodeling houses), I noticed that some of the fees were formatted like this–$50/hr–and others were formatted like this–$50 / hr. Specifically, I noticed that some of the fees don’t have spaces before and after the slash and that and others do. Anyway, normally I’d go back and format them all the same, but tonight I thought, It’s been like that for four years, and just left it alone–not perfect, but part of the “good enough” club–something a B-student would do. Which felt fabulous.

Miraculously, the world’s still spinning.

One of the books I started reading today is called The Hero: Myth/Image/Symbol by Dorothy Norman. Much like the work of Joseph Campbell, it compares myths from different cultures and highlights their similarities, the point being that all the great myths, more than conveying FACTS, convey TRUTHS about a person’s individual potential. They speak about the journeys we’re on and–if we let them–have the power to transform our souls and spirits. I say “if we let them” because if you read a myth as either pure fact (history) or pure fiction (entertainment), it won’t do much for you. But if you read them as INTENDED, as being ABOUT YOU and, therefore, relatable and relevant to YOUR life, well–as the celebrities say about their bedrooms–this is where the magic happens.

As I understand it, the myths, like proper symbols, are designed to evoke or draw out of us our higher potentialities or levels of consciousness. In other words, they’re about personal transformation–transformation that, as the quote at the beginning of tonight’s blog communicates, doesn’t change “the mysteries” to fit the individual, but rather changes the individual to fit “the mysteries.” Connecting this idea to what’s happened for me today, it means that I could spend the rest of my life trying to order my PHYSICAL world around by organizing the shit out of everything and completing every book and project I start, but that would be, ultimately, fruitless and frustrating because the PHYSICAL world doesn’t need changing. My INTERNAL one does.

It is I (my way of thinking) that must enlarge.

Transformation ain’t for sissies.

I wish I could tell you that even a small shift in consciousness or seeing yourself or the world is something you can do quickly and easily, like, in a weekend. Alas, this has not been my experience. Rather, every positive change I’ve undergone in my life in terms of thinking and behaving has been long-fought and hard-won. This, incidentally, is why virtually all myths include a mountain to climb, a giant to kill, a dragon to tame, or a golden something (fleece, goose egg, take your pick) to snatch from an ogre. Transformation, the myths tell us, ain’t for sissies. What’s more, this process takes time and, as the book I’m reading says, “is impossible to hasten.” I realize this doesn’t sound like a pep talk, but the myths tell us that The Hard Work is worth all your energy and effort, which is why so many fairy tales and myths end with a victory, a marriage, a resurrection (like that of the Phoenix, the Christ, Lazarus, or even Harry Potter), or some other cause to celebrate.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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