On Creation (Blog #1069)

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This morning I woke up at 4:30 to work backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! in Fort Smith. Until 7:45 this evening. And whereas it was fun and absolutely magical, Daddy is worn the eff out. Seriously, I’ve said many times before that I’m not cut out for manual labor, and even the personality test I took recently agreed. You’re not meant for nine to five work, it said. So it’s good that tomorrow is the last day working the production. That’s the deal. Today they set up and did one show, then tomorrow they’ll do two shows, pack up, and hit the road.

And I’ll hit the hay.

Today they asked that we not take or post any pictures from backstage (that’s called a boundary), but, y’all, the sets, props, and costumes were stunning. Giant flowers, fluffy grass, velvet curtains, feather boas galore. And everything in every color. No kidding, it was like a box of crayons exploded. And whereas I spent most the day with my mouth open feeling like I was in the middle a cartoon (hello, childhood memories!), for many of the the cast and crew (who have been on the road with this show since October), it seemed to be just another day at work. Ho-hum. This reminded me that we can be surrounded by beauty and mystery and totally lose touch with it. We can look at a sunrise or a loved one and think, Oh, yeah, that old thing. I guess it’s all right.

I don’t recommend this.

Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything and say, “What is it?” The idea being that everything–without exception–is a mystery. Sometime try this with your hand. Just hold it out and stare at it, without thinking, It’s a hand or It’s an old, wrinkly hand. Just stare at it and see if you’re not struck with wonder. That it’s alive and that it can move. That it exists.

That you exist.

From what I understand, we lose the wonder of things when we label them. Either as objects or adjectives. That is, as soon as you say, “It’s a hand” or “He’s a jerk,” you move away from The Mystery. Of course, we’re all doing this all the time. We make a million assumptions each and every day about what things are. And yet the truth is–and I know this is mind twister–you only think it’s a hand because someone told you it was. (And what if they were wrong?) You only think he’s a jerk because you told he was. (And what if you were wrong?)

Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, does this mean the person you see in the mirror every day waved a magic wand and made something appear out of nothing? No. At the same time, yes. What I mean is that when you open your eyes every day, the world is there. The Mystery is there. The one in the mirror doesn’t create that. But the one in the mirror does create your experience of the world. By naming it, by labeling it, whatever you want–good or bad, too hot or too cold, terrifying or peaceful, ho-hum or magical.

I suggest magical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When you hide your hurt, you can’t help but pass it on. It ends up seeping, sometimes exploding out.

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On Killing Your Darlings (Blog #1060)

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Today I’ve felt squirmy about money, mostly because my therapist recently encouraged me to “make a plan” to make some. And whereas I don’t have any problem making a plan, I do have a problem with all the issues money brings up for me–worthiness, people pleasing, and so on. Granted, these issues aren’t nearly as “heavy” as they used to be. I’ve made a lot of progress. Still, it’s almost always a challenge for me to hold the line or stand up for myself when it comes to my personal value. This last summer I challenged a former client who tried to pull a fast one and get me to work for half my quoted and agreed upon rate and was nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof.

But I did it.

As far as I can tell, this is how we grow and move forward. Not steadily, but with our knees shaking. Ugh. Anytime I’ve broken up with an ex, distanced myself from a friend, or challenged a client, everything in me wanted to throw up. And whereas at one time I would have let this feeling of nausea convince me to NOT say something, I eventually learned that it was my signal TO say something. Like, I’m just going to keep feeling like shit if I don’t. The good part being that every single time I’ve stepped outside my comfort zone and done the thing I was afraid of doing, my comfort zone has later increased in size. Mark Twain said it this way: “Do the thing you fear, and the death of fear is certain.” Another benefit being that for the rest of my life I can’t tell myself I CAN’T stand up for myself–because I have time and time again. Even if it’s never FUN for me, I can’t say I can’t.

After having a wonderful experience with myofascial release and a tuning fork this last week, tonight I went down a rabbit hole and started reading Tuning the Human Biofield: Healing with Vibrational Sound Therapy by Eileen Day McKusick. (So far, it’s fascinating.) In it McKusick maps the human energy system, noting where certain emotions or issues typically get stuck in the body. For instance, she says the health of our knees relate to how we’re moving forward in life and that if you have problems with your left knee (which, um, I had surgery on mine just over a year ago) it can indicate that you have a difficult time letting go, either of things or an old story about yourself. For me, this resonates as true. For example, I’ve spent so much of my life in one income bracket that, despite the constant encouragement of my therapist that I can move to a different (higher) one, it’s difficult for me to fully believe and embody this fact.

You know, I get queasy.

Another mind/body/emotion connection McKusick mentions that resonates with me is that right hip (sciatic) issues often have to do with being chronically busy. “The hip of overdoing,” she calls it. Ugh. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that you have to try, try, try, push, push, push. And yet for all my staying busy and really working my ass off, lately I’ve had some healing experiences that were, well, just the easiest thing. In an instant, my body let go. Likewise, some of the best money I’ve ever made has not only been the most fun, but has also required the least amount of work. What’s the saying? Easy money.

Byron Katie says that’s everything’s a story, and I suppose that this blog is largely my effort to rewrite mine. To change the way I think and speak about money, my relationships, and how easy or difficult life and healing are. And whereas it’s been a process, it’s working. More and more I’m believing that the stories I grew up believing about me and my body and what we’re capable of were at the best incomplete, at the worst flat wrong. Ugh. I wish I could just cross these stories out, throw them away, start over. In writing this is called “killing your darlings,” scrapping your beloved creations because they’re just not working, just not serving your overall plot. Alas, killing your belief-darlings is a slower process. Not because it’s difficult to see what’s not working, but because old beliefs die hard and new beliefs take time to take root, sprout, blossom, bear fruit. And so I remind myself, Be patient, sweetheart. Trust the process. Your story is far from over.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When the universe speaks—listen.

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On Manipulation and Cleaning Up Your Act (Blog #1039)

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This afternoon I cleaned my room from top to bottom. Every book came off its shelf and was wiped down. Every knickknack came off its perch and was dusted. I pulled out my trundle bed and cleaned under there. (Talk about gross.) I even took apart the fan I turn on every night for white noise and cleaned it. You know how it’s difficult to clean a fan. Well, now mine is spic and span. No more dust on the blades. No more hairs wrapped around the propeller shaft. And whereas all of this took time, it was worth it. Sitting in my room now, I feel lighter, brighter.

God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Here’s something. Last week I did some yard work for a new client. Before agreeing to the job, I said, “I charge this much an hour,” and they said, “That’s great.” Well, it was a big job. Over the course of two days, I raked and bagged forty-six large bags of leaves in their backyard. When I finished I said, “I can take these bags around front if you’d like,” and they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” I said, “if you think you’re going to want me to move the bags later, I’d rather do it now than come back.”

Again they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I totaled my hours, and they paid me. Also, they gave me a fire pit off their back porch. “You can have it if you’d like it,” they said. “I never use it.” And whereas I kept hearing my therapist say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” I said, “Sure, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands.”

So I loaded it in my car, and that was that.

Or so I thought. What I mean is that this afternoon my client texted and said, “If you would put the leaves by the curb for pickup, that would be cool. They pick up Tuesday.” Well, something felt off to me about this, I guess because they didn’t actually ASK me to move the leaves. They just said, “That would be cool.” I mean, I think it’d be cool if someone would bring me breakfast in bed every day, but so far that hasn’t happened. Anyway, trying to determine if they wanted a favor or an employee, I replied, “I can do it later today. Also, it’ll probably be an additional one to two hours of labor/cost. Is that good?”

To which they replied, “Not really. I’m pretty tapped out. I can do it. Or we can call it a trade for the fire pit.”

Then they added, “Either way, I’m good.”

I responded, “I understand. And as I understood it, the fire pit was a gift. I’m happy to bring it back.”

“Oh no,” they said. “It’s fine. Enjoy it. It was just sitting there. Total misunderstanding.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. Good luck with everything.”

Y’all, I hate shit like this, when someone refuses to be direct. When someone says one thing but means another. When someone gives you a gift and later uses it as a tool for manipulation. This is why more and more it’s important for me to be as clear in my personal and professional dealings as possible. “This is how much I charge an hour. I’d rather move the bags now than come back later. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” This being said, I understand that, especially in the south, it’s extremely difficult for people to ask for what they want in plain terms. It’s MUCH easier to say, “If you don’t mind, that’d be cool.”

Alas, having played the indirect game for decades, I get it. I really do. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve hinted or subtly suggested my wants and needs, especially in terms of money, work, and compensation. Indeed, not all that long ago I would have driven my ass to Fort Smith and broken my back hauling forty-six bags of leaves from this lady’s backyard to her front yard, all the time HOPING she intended to pay me. Instead of just asking up front, “Are you going to pay me?”

Here’s the great thing about being up front. It gives someone a chance to say yes or no. Likewise, it saves a lot of time and drama. Today when my client (um, former client) said, “That’s not really good,” the rest of my day opened up. Because I certainly wasn’t going to spend three to four hours of my life driving across the bridge, working, and later cleaning myself up without pay.

You know, because it would have been a “cool” thing to do.

The lesson that I continue to learn is that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Does this mean that you should suspect everyone’s motives. No, I don’t think so. People are kind and do kind things every day. But, as Jesus said, be wise as serpents. Meaning that when a total stranger offers you a gift and later uses it as leverage, don’t be surprised. Meaning that in the future I could just ask, “Does this come with any strings attached?” And then the person could be honest. They could say, “No, I’d really like to get rid of it.” Or, “Yes, I was hoping you’d lower your rate or come back to move the bags for free.”

Getting back to the idea of manipulation, I think it’s important to call things for what they are. This being said, MOST of us have private agendas, so I don’t blame anyone for being indirect or trying to get me to do free work by way of guilt or any other strategy. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Still, it simply doesn’t work for me anymore. I prefer the direct, honest truth. Along these lines, no conversation about manipulation would be complete without pointing out (what should be) the obvious–it takes two to Tango, and it takes two to manipulate. What I mean is that someone can TRY to manipulate you, but you have to be complicit in their manipulation in order for it to work. Meaning you have to also be indirect, you have to FEEL guilty, and you have to DO the thing they’re asking you to. (Of course, if you do the thing with a conscious motive, like, “I’ll do this for free so they’ll like me and be my friend,” you’re also being manipulative. As Byron Katie would say–checkmate.)

So who’s fault would it have been had I gone to move the bags of leaves today and gotten stiffed? Mine. Because I would have known better, especially since my gut had alerted me to a problem.

All this to say that THIS is what the journey of self-discovery and growing up looks like. In fairy tales the hero faces giants and dragons, but in real life we face our clients, friends, and families. Better said, we face the fears and issues that our clients, friends, and families bring up in us. (And they face the ones we bring up in them.) Is this difficult? One the one hand, yes. It’s hell. It means being responsible and accountable for everything that happens in your life, or at least being responsible and accountable for the way you handle it. On the other hand, cleaning up your act (your communication, your life) is no more difficult than cleaning up your room. What I mean is that it happens one knickknack or interaction at a time.

Does this TAKE time?

Of course, but it’s worth it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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On Gays and Egg Salad (Blog #1038)

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It’s almost midnight, and for the last thirty minutes I’ve been staring at my laptop trying to figure out what to write. (I got nothing.) Honestly, I’m dog tired. My bed is six feet away, and I’d much rather be over than over here. Indeed, my body is crying out for sleep. This evening I went out for Mexican food with my friend Aaron, and my head almost fell into the cheese dip. That being said, I still had a wonderful time and managed to stay more than alert for the drive home. But seriously, as soon as this blog is over, I’m out like a light.

I guess part of the reason I’m exhausted is because I didn’t get much sleep last night and have been going all day. Plus, I’ve eaten a lot. My insulin is working overtime. This morning I ate at a brunch buffet with friends and had three helpings. You know, to get ready for the Super Bowl, the official favorite holiday of gay men. (That was a joke, Mom. The official favorite holiday of gay men is Halloween. Because we get to pretend like we’re someone we’re not. Ironic, I know. You’d think all those years in the closet would have been enough pretending.) Anyway, after brunch, me and one of my friends ran around to a couple antique shops and one bookstore, where I bought an old book about nautical astronomy (how to navigate ships by the stars) for a dollar.

Something I’ve been thinking about tonight is how every book is a world unto itself. For example, the book I bought today includes charts and tables that if correctly read, understood, and used, would allow one to sail a ship around the globe using only the stars (and sun and moon and horizon, I’m assuming) for guidance. Talk about amazing. I can barely get to an out-of-town shopping mall without a GPS and three Hail Marys. But I digress. My point is that any book, fiction or non-fiction, has the power to open to you new and (hopefully) exciting ways of seeing the world. New ways of understanding. New ways of believing.

Along these lines, lately I’ve been thinking of individuals as books, each with his own way of perceiving, each with her own story to tell. And whereas our lives obviously overlap with the lives of others and we’re written into the chapters of our friends and families, no two books–er, no two lives–are exactly the same. Byron Katie says that each of us lives on a different planet, in a completely different solar system than everybody else. Meaning that in your book, in your world, gay people may be hated by God (or you rather, since we’re talking about the God in YOUR head) and condemned to hell. In mine, not so much. At one point this afternoon my friend’s sibling offered them egg salad, which the sibling obviously loved. “Ick,” my friend said. “I could never.”

See? Two different novels, two different stories. The story of “egg salad is delightful,” the story of “egg salad is shit.”

More and more, it’s becoming important for me to let people have their story and let people have their world. What I mean is that I have less and less interest in trying to change people, in trying to convince anyone that gays and egg salad are fabulous. This afternoon I stood amid thousands of books, and only one of them seemed so interesting that I reached for my wallet. But what? Am I going to insist that the other books be banned? Certainly not. Every book has a right to exist. Likewise, so does every person have a right to exist. Exactly as they are. With all of their experiences, opinions, and judgments. However contrary to mine or yours. This is love. It doesn’t demand that the people around us change one iota. Rather, it appreciates the fact that every book reads differently.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No good story ever ends.

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On Soulmates and Congruency (Blog #1029)

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Today I went thrift shopping with a friend. Y’all, we hit–let’s see–ten stores (and two restaurants) in six hours, and I came home with one brooch, a belt buckle, a paperweight, four books, and five picture frames. Talk about popping some tags. (That’s a Macklemore song reference, Mom). I can’t tell you how delighted I am with my purchases. And all for the bargain price of $12.50. And whereas I don’t know WHAT I’m going to do with everything I brought home (the belt buckle, for instance) I’m convinced I’ll figure out something sooner or later. For example, I’ve been sitting on an angel frame for over a month now, just waiting for the right brooch to pair it with. Well, the brooch I bought today was “it.”

It’s like every frame has its soulmate (broochmate), and you just have to be patient enough for them to meet each other.

Along these lines, lately I’ve been thinking that although, yes, some things are just ugly, most decorative items simply need the right background or environment. The above brooch, for example, just wouldn’t stand out the same against a yellow background, or in a frame three times as big. To put it succinctly, in terms of the final product, relationship is everything. A word/idea I think about a lot is congruency. Applied to my currents arts and crafts obsession, congruency asks, “Are all the involved parts working together to form a cohesive and eye-pleasing result?” If they aren’t, if the frame, background, brooch aren’t “meant to be together,” I don’t force it.

Setting them aside, I say, “Sorry, you just aren’t soulmates.”

This being said, I’m convinced most of us have the wrong idea about soulmates. Recently my mom and I were watching a tv show on which a man told his girlfriend he thought they were soulmates. The girlfriend, however, said, “I love you, I want to get married to you and have your babies, but I just don’t think we’re soulmates. I think my very first boyfriend was my soulmate.”

“Ouch,” I told my mom. “That was the wrong thing to say.”

Tact aside, who knows if these two are cosmically entwined? Hell, if they’re dating seriously, they probably are. At least in some respect. (No one comes into your life by accident.) Does this mean they’ll have butterflies for each other the rest of their lives? Doubtful. But then again, I believe that they could end up hating each other and still be soulmates.

I’ll explain.

There’s an idea in self-help and spirituality that your soulmate isn’t the person who makes your heart pitter-pat the most but is rather the person who causes your soul to GROW the most. This means the person who crawls under your skin, the one who’s got your goat, and the one you have the hardest time forgiving could very well be your soulmate. Could very well be the soul to whom–on the other side of the veil–you’re most indebted. I think about this a lot, since the older I get the more people there are with whom I’ve experienced conflict. And yet with each person and each drama, I’ve been challenged to find my voice or mature in some other way. And whereas from the outside it may have looked like a splitting off (please don’t call me again, Nancy), from the inside there was actually a coming together. That is, anytime you listen to and follow your inner guidance, you become more congruent. First with yourself AND THEN with another.

Along these lines, this afternoon at one thrift store I walked up on my friend while they were talking to the owner. He’d just handed my friend a piece of jewelry, and my friend said, “Did you make this yourself?”

Pausing ever so slightly, he said, “I did. Back in the 70s.”

Immediately I thought, He’s lying. Later my friend told me the man had said the jewelry was real turquoise, even though it was clearly just “turquoise colored.” And whereas it’s nice to have this confirmation, my point is that my intuition was talking to me, so the congruent thing for me to do was to not trust him to be honest, to not engage with him. Later, in another store, my gut told me a store owner was full of shit, so I literally walked away while he was talking to me. Normally the people pleaser in me wouldn’t have allowed me to do this sort of thing, but I thought, We know what happens when we let people verbally vomit on us because we’ve done that a hundred times before. Let’s see what happens when we take care of ourselves.

Well, I’ll tell you what happened. I walked away and I felt great. Absolutely fabulous. Then I ate this burger and felt even better.

Byron Katie says that a no to you is a yes to me. That is, when you listen to and follow your inner guidance, the answer is always yes. Yes, this brooch and this frame do (or don’t) go together. Yes, I know you’re lying to me. Yes, I’m walking away now. My therapist says when we respond honestly and authentically to people, we not only give ourselves a gift, but also give them a gift. “Even if we’re telling them to take a hike?” I say. “Even if we’re telling them to take a hike,” she says. “Because so many of us are lied to constantly. So it’s good to hear the truth for once, even if the answer’s no. Plus, whenever you’re authentic with someone, you give them permission to be authentic too.” Today my friend said, “How did you walk away from that rambling salesman so easily?”

“I’m not quite sure,” I said. “I just did it.” Looking back, I realize that something in me said, “Move,” so I moved. For once, I listened to me. For once, I was congruent.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Any mundane thing–an elevator ride!–can be turned into something joyous.

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On Stuff (Blog #1025)

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Lately I’ve been thinking about stuff, partly because I’ve been buying, or at least acquiring, so much of it lately. Nothing major, mind you, just little things. Brooches, books, picture frames, magnets, t-shirts, shoes. And whereas I don’t have NEARLY the amount of stuff I owned before I had my estate sale, it’s still the most I’ve had in the last three years. Granted, I’m enjoying it. I’ve got everything organized and displayed like I want, and my room feels cozy. Comforting. At the same time, there are moments when everything I have feels like “too much,” too much to own, too much to take care of. Earlier today my friend Aaron gave me several of his old t-shirts, and I thought, Okay, fine, I’ll take five of them. But I’m going to give away at least two of mine.

Since The Great Letting Go a few years ago, one of my “rules” about owning something is that I must find it useful, that I actually wear my clothes, actually get joy out of my books and knickknacks. That’s one thing I can say about the stuff I’ve acquired lately. Although I often feel like I spend too much time on Facebook Marketplace (searching for and buying brooches), I do get a lot of pleasure out of the things I purchase. What’s more, having taken time to get everything in my room (where I am now) just so, I always feel at home here. I always feel at peace here.

My therapist says stuff is grounding, so maybe that’s why the sudden compulsion to acquire. That is, at the same time I had my estate sale, I intentionally pulled up my roots–closed my dance studio, moved homes (twice), started down a new career path. In retrospect, it was a lot at once, a bit dramatic. Still, owning fewer things made all the changes easier. Not just from a physical perspective, but from a mental and emotional one. All I had to do was look at my bookshelf (with fifty-four books, down from over three hundred) or my closet (with eight shirts, down from dozens), and it was clear–I was starting over. And whereas I’ll never be able to prove it, I believe that my downsizing set the stage for this blog and all my personal growth that’s come as a result of it.

What I mean is that if you can let go of a physical object, you can let go of a mental concept. A limiting belief about yourself, for example. A harmful thought about another. Byron Katie says you’re not attached to your things, you’re attached to your stories about your things, and this is what I mean. If you’re holding on to something physical, you’re holding on to something mental–a thought, a story. Whenever you say, “This has sentimental value” or “I can’t sell those old plastic curlers; they belonged to my dead aunt,” you’re saying you can’t let go of your narrative about them. Because the truth is you CAN let go of your stuff. You do it every day when you go to work. Leaving everything you own (except your current outfit) behind you, you prove to yourself that you don’t HAVE to own a thing in order to survive or be happy.

I mean, how do you know you’ll ever see all that stuff again? And yet you just walk out the door.

Getting back to the idea of stuff being grounding, I think it’s fascinating that at the same time I was letting go my stuff, I was letting go of how I saw myself and the world. Likewise, I find it fascinating that having grounded my concepts of self and the world (for the better), I’m now beginning to physically ground. That is, as my therapist says, stuff is heavy. It’s hard to move around. This is what you want your self-esteem, your kindness, and your compassion to be–solid, not easily pushed about. Even when I get excited about new stuff/cool stuff, this is what I remind myself, that stuff is just stuff and it will ALWAYS come and go. Nothing lasts forever, not even gold. But a soul that’s at home, at peace regardless of what it owns or doesn’t? Now that’s real gold. That’s something moth and rust can’t touch.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Who’s to say that one experience is better than another?

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On Being Caught Up (Blog #1023)

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A few quick things before I have to clean up and go out for the evening (I do have a life)–

1. On mouth taping

A couple months ago I wrote about ways to stimulate/activate your vagus nerve, one way being listening to classical music. Well, the book I mentioned, Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Overcome Gut Sensitivities, Inflammation, Brain Fog, Autoimmunity, Anxiety, Depression by Dr. Navaz Habib, also suggested mouth taping, mouth taping being literally taping your mouth shut wile you sleep. The idea being that we were intended to breathe through our noses, and that this is a way to keep your body calm. Our mouths, it seems, were only intended as a backup system, a way to get more air in times of emergency (like when you’re stuffed up, or being chased by a lion or your ex). And whereas I didn’t try mouth taping a couple months ago, I didn’t forget about it either.

All this to say that I gave it a whirl last night. Took some surgical tape and fastened my mouth closed. And whereas it was a little awkward at first, it ended up being fine, just fine. Indeed, I had a wonderful night’s sleep, and despite the fact that I’ve been struggling with sinus issues for the last few weeks, woke up this morning with significantly LESS post nasal drip and “junk.” This is supposedly one of the points or benefits to nose breathing.

So I’m going to mouth tape again tonight.

2. On loving what is

Byron Katie, in her book Loving What Is, says that reality is always kinder than our story about it. For example, this morning while preparing to make breakfast, I dropped an egg on the kitchen floor. It just slipped, well, practically jumped right out of my hands. At which point gravity took over. And whereas normally I’d go into A STORY like “how awful this is” and “look what I’ve done wrong,” this time I didn’t. This time I was present, present to reality. And, y’all, it was like slow motion. I could see the egg slip from my fingers, and it was this beautiful thing. Down it went closer and closer the floor. And then it hit. SPLAT! Yolk and pieces of egg shell flew everywhere. It was absolutely glorious, and I can’t tell you how glad I was to be there to witness it. Talk about a fun way to start the day. I’m being serious. It was like watching an action film. For free.

Of course, I had to clean things up. But again, absent any internal bitching, cleaning up a broken egg (or relationship) isn’t a big deal. Haven’t we all cleaned up messes before?

3. On being turned into a mouse

Last night and this afternoon I read the celebrated juvenile fiction novel The Witches by Roald Dahl, the story of a young boy and his grandmother/guardian who have a serious run-in with The Grand High Witch of All the World. And whereas I don’t mean to spoil anything for anyone, she turns the boy into a mouse. (Sorry, but the book’s been out for over thirty years. Catch up.) Anyway, along the lines of loving what is, the boy isn’t bothered by the fact that he’s a mouse. Indeed, he says it never occurs to him TO BE BOTHERED. Rather, he’s excited that he can run fast, hide in small places, swing by his tail, and–here’s the real win–stop going to school.

Talk about a kid who’s caught up (to reality).

Now, the boy was obviously telling himself a story about his reality. But rather than saying, “This sucks,” he was saying, “This is beyond fabulous.” More and more I’m learning to tell myself this second story whenever something “bad” happens, whenever I drop and egg or wake up with post nasal drip. Not that I LOVE waking up sick, but I’m at least learning not to HATE it. Because it gives me a chance to rest. Because it gives me a chance to listen to my body. Because it gives me a chance to try new things (that might help). Why NOT have a positive perspective about our challenges? After all, we can’t change THE FACTS (the egg is on the floor, today I woke up sick, today I woke up a mouse), but we CAN CHANGE what we think about them. We can change the story we tell ourselves.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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Let’s Start Over (Blog #1010)

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Okay. It’s 3:40 in the afternoon, and I’m blogging now because I’m going to a party tonight with my friends Aaron and Kate. Additionally, I’ve had a sinus infection for the last week and don’t imagine that staying up late to write (again) will help it go away. Currently I’m wishing it WOULD go away, and it occurs to me that I’ve spent a good deal of my life wishing things were different than they are–an illness, a feeling, a relationship, my bank account. So now I’m trying to let life exist, to actually relax into instead of push against THIS moment. This exhausted, snot-filled, weak, achy moment. Which feels like an eternity to me (WHEN will it end?!) but is simply another moment to eternity.

A necessary moment, I trust, in the grand scheme of things.

Earlier today I got a message from Kate about the party tonight. “Be at our house at 5:30 because we’re going to dinner first.” Then she added a laughing emoji and said, “I made your evening plans for you.” And whereas I’m usually a control freak about being told what to do, in this case–for a lot of reasons–I didn’t care. Indeed, I was delighted. “It’s okay,” I replied, “I’m looking forward to getting out of the house.” Anyway, this whole exchange has got me thinking about control, the way we sometimes pitch a shit-fit when someone tells us what to do and sometimes we don’t.

And we’re nowhere near logical about it.

A while back I had an experience in which I wanted someone’s approval and didn’t get it–and that bothered me. Alas, had it been any other person or even a different day of the week, I probably wouldn’t have cared. After some time had passed, I didn’t care with this person. This is what I mean about control, how we have to have things a certain way–our way–in order to be happy or satisfied. I MUST have their approval, and so on. If it’s someone else’s idea or opinion that happens to disagree with yours? Well, then it must be wrong. THEY must be wrong. Because God forbid someone other than you–someone other than me–should be right.

Along these lines, Byron Kate says that if you want to give someone a gift, let them be right. “People LOVE to be right,” she says. So like, let them have the last word. This, of course, is both a difficult and miserable thing to do. But more and more I’m seeing the wisdom in not putting up a fuss about insignificant things (in forgiving), in letting people be who they are (whether they approve of me or not), and in not trying to change someone else’s world (the world where, according to them, I very well may be wrong). Recently I watched two people arguing online about a dance matter. Now, they were using well-constructed sentences and gentlemanly language, but–let’s be clear–they were attacking each other. At the very least, they were picking a fight. (Incidentally, the dance didn’t care.) Have I done this sort of thing before? Sure. But the older I get, the more I hope I do less of it.

Why, Marcus?

Because it’s not my job to control how anyone else dances, behaves, or thinks. This includes friends, family, lovers, and perfect strangers. Granted, I could try to change someone else (and believe me I’ve tried), but talk about exhausting. So more and more I’m learning to let others think and do as they will. My therapist would say, “Like you, THEY’RE AUTONOMOUS.” Likewise, I’m learning to let God, to let life, do as it wills. This means doing my best to heal and succeed, whatever that means, but letting go of the results. It means relaxing into THIS moment whatever it looks like. It means, no matter what’s happened the day before, saying, “Okay, sweetheart, here we are–right here, right now. Let’s start over.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."

On Growing Up (Blog #897)

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Well, hello. Today is my birthday. Thirty-nine years ago I came charging into this world. And whereas I’ve slowed down–a little–I’m still going. (Look out, future, here I come, at my own pace.) All day my dad’s been telling total strangers it’s my birthday. Thankfully, none of them have sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. But this afternoon a waitress did say, “Thirty-nine! Time flies! Where does it go?”

“Behind you,” I said.

Byron Katie says, “Do you know what I love about the past? It’s over.”

Amen. Thirty-nine years. Over.

To celebrate my big day, this morning my dad and I got up early–at six-thirty–and went to Irish Maid Donuts. This is something we normally only do on Father’s Day and his birthday, but I guess it’s becoming our thing. You won’t hear any complaints from me. From my insulin, maybe.

Diet starts next week.

When dad and I got home from the donut shop, I went back to bed for a few hours. When I got up, my mom, my dad, two of my aunts, and I went to The Egg and I for more celebrating, more eating. This is what my entire weekend promises to be filled with–food. And whereas my stomach is already starting to put up a fuss, I plan to hang in there.

Diet starts next week.

So far today over a hundred friends and family members have messaged, texted, posted, or called to wish me happy birthday. This happens every year, but it continues to take my breath away. It’s so easy to think that people don’t care or remember you, but they do. What’s more, if only for a moment, they’re willing to take time out of their day to wish you well. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. No one owes me anything. Not my friends, not my family, not my lovers (well, ex-lovers; I’m currently taking applications). Caroline Myss says that if someone loves you, it’s not because they HAVE to, it’s because they WANT to. When you really get this, it’s a game-changer. When I really get this, it even shifts my perspective about people I don’t want to see again. Not that it makes me want to see them, but it does make me grateful for any love that’s been exchanged between us. Because again–anything I’ve received from another has been a gift, not a payment of a debt owed.

This morning my dad and I had a conversation about liars. We both know a few. I once dated one. Dad said, “Do you think they ever think about the damage they cause?” I said, “I think everyone has a soul and a conscience, so sure, but I also think it takes a big person to just come right out and say, ‘I know I hurt you and I’m sorry.'” Think about it. How often do YOU think you’ve done something wrong? Isn’t it always someone else’s fault? I know that’s how I usually feel, so I can only assume it would be the same for someone else, even someone who lies, cheats, steals, or kills. We all justify our behavior.

I’m talking about this now because as I get older, I think about these things more. How do my words and actions affect others? I know that I’ve broken more than one heart not because I was straight-up lying or cheating but because I was lying to myself (and them) about how compatible we were. That’s what I realized with my ex. I observed their bad behavior but lied to myself (and them) about it not mattering. When it fact it mattered a lot. We think of lies as these big, huge things, but they’re not. They’re subtle things. Little stories we tell ourselves. For example, how many times have you said, “Diet starts next week,” when you know damn good and well it’ll most likely never start at all? This is why the truth is scary. This is why it’s painful. It shows you who you really are. The one who isn’t disciplined. The one who’s too afraid to leave. The one who’s scared to be alone. It cuts you like a knife.

What’s outside you is inside you.

Earlier today a friend posted something like, if you could go back and give your younger self advice in two words, what would you say? People said things like, be strong, be kind, keep going. I thought, get laid, but my answer was, speak up! This has been both one of the best and most difficult things I’ve learned to do since starting therapy–learning to speak my truth. Because looking back, I’ve always known what it was. I knew my ex was a liar, and I knew other exes were cheaters. But again, by not saying something or leaving sooner, I was lying to myself, cheating myself out of something better. This is what “the world is your mirror” means. It means what’s outside you is inside you. It means we all play a part in things. It means no one is to blame.

I hate this as much as you do.

But it’s part of growing up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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On One Way to Skin a Cat (Blog #878)

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Last night my parents and I ate at Denny’s for my dad’s birthday because they give you a free meal–a Grand Slam–if it’s your birthday. When we got home it was after midnight, and I was pretty beat. So I read a chapter in a book about Internal Family Systems and went to bed. This morning I slept as late as possible, ate breakfast, then decided that despite it being Sunday, I needed to paint at my friend’s house that I’ve been working on this month. “What is WRONG with you?” my dad said. Now THERE’S a loaded question.

I have an entire blog about the answer.

So far, I’ve completely painted four rooms at this house, and today I started the fifth. I don’t know, I think it’s a living room, but there’s a closet area (that leads to a porch), so maybe it’s a bedroom. Either way, it’s been entirely brown, ugly brown, from the bottom of the baseboards to the top of the ceiling, and my job is to paint it white, pure-as-the-driven-snow white. Anyway, this afternoon and evening I moved the furniture out of the room, prepped the room, and rolled on one coat of paint. Also, I ended up scraping part of the ceiling in the closet area because it was flaking off when I rolled it. Talk about a damn mess. Alas, it’s all part of it. With four rooms down, I’ve convinced myself nothing is going to get in my way. Come hell or high water, this room will get done too–one roller swipe, one brushstroke at a time.

While painting I listened to YouTube lectures about a variety of topics–the gut-brain connection, myofascial release, synchronicity. And whereas I learned a lot, a voice in my head that often shows up whenever I’m learning something new said, “You’ll never be as smart as those people.” Or rather, “You’ll never be enough.”

IFS compares the voices in our heads to a family of different personalities. That is, I have an inner critic who was active today, but I also have an inner loving parent, a voice that says, “Sweetheart, you were born enough and will die enough. Nothing you do or don’t do can ever change that.” One thing I like about the book I’m reading about IFS is an analogy it uses–the idea that our minds are like living rooms in which our internal family members come and go. Think of it like this–maybe your perfectionist shows up and hangs out on your living room sofa when you’re at work or with your parents but retreats into another room and takes a nap when you’re–I don’t know–playing canasta or eating Mexican food.

Like, how often do you think, I’ve got to eat these chips PERFECTLY?

Somewhere I heard the question, “Do you believe every thought you think?” For most of us, sadly, the answer is yes. Why? Because WE thought it. Alas, we have tens of thousands of thoughts a day, and most of them aren’t even true, especially when we’re thinking about US. (Which, really, when are we not?) Personally, I think there’s a lot of freedom in the idea that just because you think a thought doesn’t mean it’s true or accurate. (The Work of Byron Katie is based almost exclusively on this premise.) And I really like the idea that a thought can simply be the opinion of a part of you, not of the whole, that if you’re beating yourself up it may just be because your inner asshole is camped out on your living room couch and has taken over the remote control.

For me, there’s been a lot of relief in not taking my thoughts so seriously. Are there self-critical thoughts I wish I could never have again? Sure. But we living in a you’re-not-enough society, and certain messages are pretty embedded in all of us. However, just because we may never be completely rid of self-criticism doesn’t mean we can’t make major strides toward self-acceptance. This evening my friend asked me if I wanted to paint with a sprayer instead of a roller and brush. And whereas I said no thank you, it’s good to have the option. My point is that both in painting and in personal growth, healing, and transformation, there are many tools available. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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More often than not, the truth is a monster. It gets in your face and makes you get honest. Sometimes the truth separates you from people you care about, if for no other reason than to bring you closer to yourself.

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