Worth It (Blog #1000!)

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Phew. Here we are. Blog #1000. We made it. I made it. Two years, eight months, and twenty-six days ago I began this journey honestly not knowing what I was doing or where I was going. And whereas I’m not sure I know now (does anyone ever know what they’re doing or where they’re going?), I’m nonetheless here with–as of yesterday–892,141 words more than I started with. Granted, not every word or every post has been brilliant. How could it be? And yet all together these words and posts have provided a container, a structure in which something brilliant has happened.

To be clear, I’m not referring to this body of work, this blog, as brilliant. Granted, I’m proud of it, but more and more I don’t have to label it. Recently I’ve watched a couple documentaries about The Sphinx, and one scholar dates it as old as 36,000 years. My point being that over the centuries countless numbers of people have looked upon this sculpture and issued their opinions about it. It’s magnificent, it’s glorious, it’s weird, it’s crap. Whatever. I’m sure those who built it had their thoughts about it too. It’s not good enough; we should probably redo that nose. Meanwhile, the creation itself has existed as it is, quietly knowing that our opinions are powerless to change art. Art, however, is more than capable of changing us if we let it.

This is the brilliant thing I’m referring to, the fact that somewhere in the midst of all these words and posts a glorious, necessary, and humbling transformation has taken place–mine. Now, I know this is a bold claim–look at me, I’m different!–but I’m just stating facts (and I’m not ASKING anyone to look). Even if I were, I could write until I’m blue in the face and not be able to PROVE to another soul that my soul is any different today than it was 1,000 days ago. But it is. Specifically, it has more of a voice in my decisions, my moods, and my relationships. Because I’m more in touch with it. THAT’S what this vessel has provided–a place for me to meet myself. Time and time again it’s given me a space–a virtual therapy office if you will–for me to be my own listening ear, my own compassionate shoulder to cry on, my own caring counselor.

For those of you who have in any way watched, supported, or shared this space and this journey of mine, I am deeply grateful. Truly the path to one’s self is often and by definition a lonely path, and yet–paradoxically–we never walk it completely alone. More and more I’m convinced: both here and “elsewhere,” we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Witnesses who happily cheer us on.

Transformation requires more than a charge card.

Perhaps one of the reasons the path to one’s self (the journey of personal growth, the way of spirituality, the royal road) is lonely is because so much of it is internal (where you are, where God is, and where other people aren’t) and not external (where the world is, where people are, and where stuff is). If it were external, it’d be easy to prove to other people how you’ve changed or transformed. This is how most of the world operates. We get a new car, house, or haircut and think that changes US. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Despite what the advertisers and marketers want us to think, it’s not that easy. Transformation requires more than a charge card. At best our outward changes affect others’ PERCEPTION of us, and–as you know, dear reader–the perception of others is a fickle mistress. One day someone approves of us and what we do, wear, and say, and the next day they don’t.

Where’d their approval go? we think.

Well, in the words of the warden in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, it “up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”

Tonight I concluded Christmas at a dear friend’s house, where we ate dinner, toasted each other, and exchanged gifts and stories. Y’all, more and more I believe that a good story is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, especially if it makes them laugh, comforts their heart, or challenges them to think in a new way. Well, my friend gave me such a gift tonight. They said they once hosted a large fundraiser, and the band for the event showed up–what’s the phrase?–high as a damn kite. And whereas most the musicians managed fine, the bass player either accidentally or on-purpose kept playing DIFFERENT songs than the rest of the band.

“I think he just didn’t give a shit,” my friend said.

Thankfully, the man (the genius) running the sound board turned off the bass player’s microphone, and no one in the audience ever knew the guy was completely stewed. My friend only knew because the sound technician put a pair of earphones on their head and said, “Hey, get this shit.”

Y’all, this is what this journey I’ve been discussing is about–turning DOWN the external voices in your life and turning UP the internal ones. In the last 1,000 days I’ve referred to these voices as your soul, your spirit, your highest self, your intuition, your guidance, your inner wisdom, your angels, God, the universe, the gods, and–I could go on. And whereas I don’t see all these terms as exactly the same, my point is–I just don’t think we’re alone here. Recently I had a friend comment, “I don’t believe in gods.” Fine. It has never been nor will it ever be my intention on this blog to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, least of all the higher mechanics of the cosmos. Changing someone else is NEVER the point of this work. Again and again and all day long until the cows come home, the point is changing oneself.

Transforming oneself.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means exactly that–that the forces we read about aren’t outside but inside us, that if you can’t read about Sisyphus eternally rolling a giant rock up a mountain or Jesus hanging on the cross and put YOURSELF there and thus relate the story to YOUR life, you’ve missed the point. (Every story is about you. What is in all is in one. What is in one is in all.) People externalize their gods, their beliefs. They say, “Jesus loves the little children. God hates fags.” No, they don’t. YOU do. How do I know? You’re the one who said it; you’re the one who did it. This is what personal responsibility and accountability are all about–realizing that you no longer get to blame someone else (God, your neighbor, or a book) for YOUR actions.

This sucks, I know.

There’s an idea in The Bible about not building your house upon the sandy land but rather building your house upon the rock, where, as a children’s song says, “the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know.” And whereas I do NOT intend this as preaching or evangelizing, I DO intend it as SYMBOLIZING.

I’ll explain.

Recently I’ve been obsessed with a song by Maren Morris called “The Bones.” It’s my flavor of the week. In essence the song is about a couple’s relationship, the idea being that when two people have a home with a solid foundation they can weather any storm. Getting back to the idea of symbolizing or being able to relate any story, mythology, or wisdom to one’s self, my thought has been that if I–if YOU–have a solid internal foundation, we can confidently navigate the trials and tribulations of life. This is the path I keep talking about, the path therapy and this blog have been such a huge part of for me, the building of an unshakable inner base. Y’all, I wish I could tell you that the right therapist, doctor, doctrine, or god can and will protect you from life’s hurts and heartaches, but alas, this is simply not the case. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is selling you snake oil. What is true, however, is that if you’ve done the inner work and have your priorities straight, you can best any challenge. Granted, life may bring you to your knees (it will), but as Morris says, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”

If the last thousand days have taught me anything, it’s that any time you spend building a solid foundation or working on your interior structure is time well spent. Every minute and every hour, as uncomfortable as it may be, is gold. (Did I forget to mention that being born again is unpleasant? Well, it is. Ask any screaming baby.) Likewise, any time you spend searching for, sharing, or living the truth will set you free. Not just sort of, but really. Granted, the truth may turn your world upside down (it will). Things may get worse before they get better (they will). But if a house doesn’t already POSSESS a solid foundation or structure, isn’t it best to tear it down and start from scratch in order to have something stable, something that will last? Don’t you want something real? I’ve spent almost six years in therapy, nearly three years blogging every day, and countless hours self-improving, and I’m telling you–it’s exhausting. But I’m talking about you here. Aren’t you worth all the effort?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is all right and okay.

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On Getting the Lead Out (Blog #805)

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This week in my friend Marla’s writing class, one of my classmates, Bill, read a glorious story about an experience he had with his father. As a child, Bill played baseball with a group of local boys. Nothing fancy or too organized, but rather like The Sandlot. And whereas Bill enjoyed baseball, he said, he wasn’t very good at it. Still, when his team played against another neighborhood group, Bill got a hit. But then as he began to round the bases, he spotted his dad outside the fence. Bill didn’t know he was going to be there. “Get the lead out!” Bill’s dad cried. Next thing he knew, Bill got tagged out. At this point in his story, Bill started crying and so did I. What person doesn’t connect with the idea of wanting a parent’s approval?

In concluding his tale, Bill said that when he had sons of his own, he’d attend their ballgames and proudly stand and pump his fist in the air to cheer them on. But he never said a word. I’m adding to Bill’s story here, but knowing what effect his dad’s words had on him, Bill never said to his boys, “Get the lead out!”

This afternoon and evening I read a book called Spiritual Alchemy by C.C. Zain. For those interested in the topic, it’s one of the best I’ve come across. The idea behind the book is that just as a material alchemist would endeavor to transmute lead (or any of the seven base metals associated with alchemy) into gold, a spiritual alchemist would and should endeavor to take the lead in their life and turn it into gold. In other words, their task is to take a circumstance, situation, trauma, relationship, or day at the office that would normally weigh them down and–somehow–change it from a liability to an asset.

My writing class’s assignment for next week is along these lines of transmutation. What’s something that you previously thought was terrible that turned out to be something wonderful? For example, recently I ran into someone I used to have the biggest crush on. I remember being distinctly upset for weeks that they didn’t return my affection. Now, years later, I can see I dodged a bullet. (God, I should be a professional bullet dodger.) The difference between this change in viewpoint and the change in viewpoint that spiritual alchemy asks of someone is not a matter of content, nor is it a matter of outcome. That is, in either case the base facts (base metal) are the same. I got ignored. Likewise, the end viewpoints (gold) are the same. This is a good thing, I’m glad this happened the way it did. The difference, rather, is that in the first case life and time taught me that my unrequited love wasn’t “bad” but “good,” but in the second, hypothetical case–the case of the spiritual alchemist–the shift in viewpoint from bad to good would happen faster and intentionally.

I’ve said before that when I was a child, our house burned down and my mother was clinically depressed. When I was a teenager, I was in a terrible car accident and my father went to prison. From an alchemist’s standpoint, all of these events are lead, heavy things. In truth, any event can be heavy. A death, a breakup, a job loss, an abusive relationship. Shit happens on planet earth. This being said, my job, and your job if you choose to accept it, is to take heavy events, forage the very best we can from them, and toss away the rest into what Caroline Myss calls the oh-well pile. (I got dumped. OH WELL.) In alchemical terms, this is called separating the metal from the dross. In Biblical terms, separating the wheat from the chaff.

When said like this, obviously anyone would be a fool to mistake the dross for the metal or the chaff for the wheat–to hold on to the worst parts of an experience rather than the best parts. And yet we all do this. Something terrible happens, and we whine and bitch and moan and cry. We form resentments and hold grudges for decades. Decades! We think, Why did this happen to me? (Want the answer? Because it did. Don’t like that answer? Tough. You’ll never get a better one. I hate this as much as you do.) And yet we could, with just as much mental effort, focus on the gifts our challenges give us. For example, for as awful as one of my exes was, he encouraged me to go to therapy (by his bad behavior, not his good words), and going to therapy has been the single most transformative experience of my entire life. Does this mean he wasn’t an absolute turd? No. But does it mean that on some level I’m grateful he was? Yes, yes it does.

Zain says that “whether an experience becomes a constructive factor in the mentality, or a destructive factor, depends entirely upon the mental attitude toward it.” This means that although you don’t get to pick the experiences of your life (sorry), you do get to decide how you frame them. You get to decide what story you tell about them, both to yourself and to others. Said tritely, you get to decide whether the very worst things that happen to you (or even whether someone cutting you off in traffic) will make you better or bitter.

No one else can do this for you.

Obviously I don’t know what goes on in anyone else’s head, but from my perspective and at least with regard to the story he shared, Bill is an alchemist. That is, he took a circumstance that could have weighed him down for the rest of his life–his father’s frustration, disapproval, and embarrassment–and transformed or transmuted it into something lighter. By his refusing to feel or, at the very least, communicate those emotions to his sons when they played ball, he not only affected his experience, but also the experience of his children and, I’m assuming, those around him. (We all know how one person can make or break a party.)

Said another way, he didn’t pass on his pain.

This afternoon I mowed my parents’ lawn. There’s a tree in the backyard whose branches I always have to duck under to avoid being swiped in the face, and I usually just hunch over. But today I grabbed the snippers out of the garage and went to work on the low-hanging branches. One by one I cut them off. Relieved of their previously attached weight, the remaining branches shot up. In fact, they soared. This is what it’s like when you snip the resentments out of your life, when you cut out focusing on the terrible things that happened to you and instead focus on how they turned you into a strong, loving person. There’s this sense of release, of buoyancy, of freedom. Everything feels lighter. You stand taller. You soar. This is what it feels like to get the lead out. As Marla said when she heard Bill’s story, “This is gold.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our shoulders weren’t meant to carry the weight of the world.

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