On Humble Beginnings (Blog #634)

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It’s an hour before midnight on Christmas Eve, and I’ve spent most the day cuddled up in my favorite chair, reading. For me, today has been like most any other, since our family stopped celebrating Christmas over twenty years ago. It’s a long story. Part of me wishes I could go back and rewrite it, since I think traditions are important and my thinking around this particular tradition has changed a lot. But, of course, it’s hard to wind back the clock. Plus, once you’ve lost the magic of something, it’s difficult to regain it.

But not impossible, perhaps.

Really, I’m fine with this. Sure, when I see pictures of others celebrating with friends and loved ones and opening presents, a part of me misses that. But I’ve been with my family all day long, and I haven’t had to spend a dime on presents. Which is good, since I don’t have a dime. But I do miss the sparkle around the season. I used to adore decorating the tree and putting up lights on the outside of the house. Really, looking back at how I’d climb on the roof and meticulously unscrew and re-screw every bulb until they were perfectly arranged–green, red, green, red–someone should have told me a long time ago that I was a homosexual. Anyway, the last few years I’ve made an effort to participate and celebrate, if only a little. This year I helped a friend decorate the outside of their house. I was in a holiday variety show.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

I think one of the hardest things to do is accept your life both as it is and how it’s been. Especially in today’s world of social media, it’s so easy to compare yourself to others. Just scroll through your phone for a minute–one minute!–and you can see everything you’re not in terms of looks, friends, prestige, and holiday celebrations. But to really sit with your story, with all your humble beginnings, this is a tough thing to do. My mom’s been depressed since I was a child. Our home burned down when I was four. My dad went to prison. As if this weren’t enough to make us different, we stopped celebrating Christmas, and (years later) I came out of the closet.

This evening my sister, her husband, and their boys went to a friend’s house for dinner. A friend of theirs and their family ended up being there–because their home burned down tonight. The family was okay, but their pets died. This went on while my parents and I went out to eat at Chili’s and I shoved down a plateful of fajitas, two beers, and a chocolate molten lava cake. Granted, it wasn’t extravagant in terms of “what’s expected,” but we were together. Anyway, this is the world we live in. The worst things happen alongside the best things.

Back home from dinner, I returned to my reading chair. After my sister and her crew got home, my older nephew, who spends most his time in his own world and really isn’t into socializing, crawled up in my chair and read his comic book alongside me. Didn’t say a word. Just snuggled up between one armrest and me and turned his pages. It was the sweetest thing; I wouldn’t trade the thirty minutes he sat there for the world. Who’s to say if this would have happened in a living room full of packages? I mean, I’ve seen my nephew around presents.

It wouldn’t have happened.

Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me a pack of positive affirmation cards called AFFIRMATORS!, and they’re my new favorite thing. There are over fifty cards in the pack, and the idea is that you shuffle them “like a three year-old” and pull one out at random. Well, get this shit. Three times today (out of four) I pulled out the same card–Magic. I’m including a picture of it here, but the idea is that life is a great mystery, and we’re surrounded by serendipity and wonderful, inexplicable happenings. Anyway, on a day that used to be filled with magic for me, during a time in my life that’s so difficult, it was the perfect reminder that miracles can occur in the most unlikely of places and circumstances.

Just after I pulled this card for the first time, I got a text message from a friend from high school that I haven’t talked to in–I don’t know–five or ten years. I guess they were last-minute shopping; they wanted to buy some dance lessons. This ended up being the perfect thing. They got a gift to give to someone they care about, and I got some cash (which I really needed). Anyway, I kept hearing my therapist’s voice in my head, since a couple weeks ago, after having injured my knee, I was bemoaning my financial prospects and suggested I could liquidate a few things. “Naw,” my therapist said, “let the universe do something.” And so it did. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

Magic.

In other good news, the skin rash that I’ve had for the last few weeks is finally getting better. Like, not just a little; a lot. I’ll spare you the details, but I figured out the right cream to use on it. Maybe this seems like a small matter, but when life’s knocked you down over and over (and over) again, it’s really delightful to be on the receiving end of a win. And in light of the fact that I’ll be having knee surgery in a day and a half, it’s nice knowing my body isn’t completely falling apart and that something’s on the mend. It’s good to be reminded that with a little persistence (and not a little magic) things can improve.

God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings.

Despite the fact that I’m not currently surrounded by the trappings of Christmas, I keep thinking about the mythological image of Jesus being born in a manger. I love that part of the story, since it reminds me that God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings. Shit, I can only imagine what Joseph and Mary must have felt like that night–worn out, tired, pregnant, no room in the inn. Surely one of them must have thought, God, I could use a break tonight. I could use a little magic here. Personally, I would have been pissed. Especially if I were Mary. I would have been looking everywhere for Gabriel, and when I found him I would have said, “You mean to tell me that first The Divine knocks me up, and now he wants me to deliver his kid in a barn?!” But I’m reminded tonight that The Divine is into this, into stories that don’t make sense from a human perspective, into “what seems small is big.”

With these things in mind, I’m doing my best to honor my story, including my past and present, as it is and not as I wish it were. Because no matter how humble or challenging and no matter how it compares to another’s, this is my life–my one, unique, and precious life. And no matter what, being alive is a gift. No matter how dark the night or bleak the circumstances, if you’re alive, you’re alive, and you’re story’s not over. And who’s to say what The Divine will make of your humble beginnings?

Who’s to say what magic lies ahead?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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On Blessing and Cursing (Blog #633)

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This afternoon after a family friend heard that I’d severed my ACL while performing a dance stunt, the first words out of their mouth were, “You can’t do what you used to do.” Not words of sympathy or compassion, but rather, “You’re old and brittle.”

My response: “Shut up.”

I’m making a big deal out of this (and you can’t stop me) because I’ve gotten this reaction from quite a number of people. I tell them the facts (I hurt myself), and they go straight for the jugular. “Well, you’re not getting any younger.” First of all, no shit, asshole. NO ONE IS GETTING ANY YOUNGER. NO ONE HAS EVER GOTTEN ANY YOUNGER IN THE HISTORY OF THE ENTIRE WORLD! Second of all, there was an eight-year-old in my surgeon’s office the day that I was there who’d torn his ACL too, so clearly injuring yourself isn’t directly related to age. That is, all of us are human, breakable, and generally (and by that I mean completely) subject to the laws of physics. Young people hurt themselves. Old people hurt themselves. Is age A FACTOR in whether or not a person is likely to hurt themselves? Of course. But so is physical build, experience, and–when dancing–the slickness of one’s shoes and the floor one is dancing on.

Breathe, Marcus.

My main beef here isn’t whether or not anyone thinks I’m old and frail. Fuck that. People can think what they want. My beef is that WORDS MATTER, and the way you talk to yourself and others matters a lot. This afternoon my friend Bonnie gave me a super-cool deck of positive affirmation cards called AFFIRMATORS! that are a fabulous spoof on positive affirmation cards. (They have a picture of a rabbit riding a unicorn on the front.) Still, the ones I’ve read so far communicate excellent points in humorous ways. Anyway, the first card I pulled out of the deck was Positive Thinking. I’m including a picture of it below (credit to: http://knockknockstuff.com), but the basic point is this–your mind is a garden, and the thoughts you water, tend to, and practice will take root, grow, and take over–so make sure they’re good ones.

When I was in college, I attended a leadership conference in Hot Springs, and the speaker told everyone in the audience to stand up, so we did. Then he told everyone to turn around, so we did. Then he told everyone to jump up and down and basically make asses out of ourselves, so we did. Now, why on God’s green earth would we do this? The speaker said it was because of something called The Power of the Podium. That is, as audience members, we assign a certain authority to someone behind a lectern and will therefore do stupid shit they ask us to do. In terms of the leadership conference, the speaker’s point was–if you’re given the chance to speak to others, make sure your message has a meaning and that you’re not wasting everyone’s damn time.

My point is that you don’t have to be standing in front of an auditorium in order for people to be paying attention to you. Indeed, if your mouth is moving, chances are pretty good that someone is listening to you. And the question I’m proposing is, “What would happen if the person you’re speaking to actually believed you?” Specifically, what if I believed the person this afternoon who was arguing for my limitations rather than my abilities? What if I spent the next year watering the thought, I can’t do what I used to do, versus, My body is strong and capable of great things. Because they could have just as easily said that. They could have said, “This may slow you down for a while, but I trust you’ll be back in the saddle in no time.”

During medieval times, if someone wanted to bless someone, this is how they’d do it. With their words. They’d say, “May the sun rise up to meet you. May your children’s children be healthy and prosperous. May your wife’s breasts be larger than your bank account.” Whatever. Conversely, if someone wanted to curse someone else, they’d say, “A pox upon your house. May a fever seize you. May all your descendants be hanged.” Maybe this sounds silly, but the idea is that the human mind has a tendency to ruminate on and “make true” those thoughts that are planted in it, especially those thoughts that are charged with emotion (like excitement or fear). In this manner, any blessing or curse can easily become a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Granted, in today’s society, we often don’t think of ourselves as blessing or cursing each other, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do it. For example, my therapist is constantly telling me that I’ll be wildly successful as a writer one day. That’s a blessing. On the other hand, once when I told a friend that I wanted to be a writer, they glibly referred to my dream and the reason I feel like I’ve been put on this earth as “a hobby.” Their implication was clear: “You can’t make a legitimate living at this.” That’s a curse. Subtle, perhaps, but a curse nonetheless.

I suppose a lot could be said about why we humans drag each other down. My friend Justin says that if you’ve settled for less in your life, you’ll rarely celebrate someone else who’s reaching for more. Misery loves company or whatever. Personally, I think that we can’t truly empower someone else until we have first empowered ourselves, and that’s a tough thing to do. Still, telling someone, “You’re old and feeble,” “Things will never get better,” or, “That’ll never happen” is shitty any way you slice it. Who died and made you God? What else can you tell me while your crystal ball is out? This is a large and marvelous universe. How do YOU KNOW what will happen?

The human spirit is capable of overcoming the greatest of obstacles.

Regardless of how much I rant, I know I can’t control what comes out of another person’s mouth. I’m realizing, however, that I can control what I listen to, put up with, and let take hold in the garden of my mind. More than hoping to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, that’s what I’m wanting to do here–get rid of the weeds that have been long-planted in my consciousness. Because yes, I’m thirty-eight, but thirty-eight is not old, at least not old as in, “It’s time to trade in your dancing shoes for a stamp collection.” Old as in, “There are hairs growing out of my ears,” sure. But if you’re here to tell me that simply because I’m thirty-eight and had a rough year that things are downhill from here, I’m here to tell you to kindly fuck off. People of all ages have rough years, and the human spirit is capable of overcoming the greatest of obstacles. So this is my blessing to myself and everyone else who will take it in; this is the thought-seed I’m hoping to water, tend to, and practice–

Your spirit is ageless, your body is stronger than you know, and your fate is to rise again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Transformation doesn’t have a drive thru window. It takes time to be born again.

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