We’re All in This Together (Blog #1011)

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It’s ten in the evening, and, despite the fact that I sat down to blog half an hour ago, I keep getting distracted by Etsy and other fun things on the internet. Since I’m fasting today, I’m having a difficult time concentrating. My body’s woozy–famished–and I simply don’t have the mental fortitude required for putting words and phrases together. Consequently, I’m ready to get this done, go to bed, and eat something, anything, tomorrow. Unless, of course, I cave and eat something tonight. But I would like to make it over twenty-four hours. Thanks to the holidays and my sweet tooth I haven’t given my body much of a break lately, so I’d like to give it a resting from digesting.

I just made up that rhyme.

Something that’s been on my mind lately is the fact that each of us is deeply unique and yet–at the same time–very much like everyone else. Recently my blogging platform notified me that I wrote 303,193 words in 2019 (an average of 831 words per post), and it occurred to me that anyone, were they of a mind to do so, could write just as many words (or more) about THEIR life, their challenges and triumphs, their joys and sorrows. Last night I went out to a local theater’s annual party with my friends Aaron and Kate, and there was a lip-sync battle. Anyway, I kept thinking about this fact as I observed each individual performer. Like, just as I worry about or am over the moon about something, so every other person on planet earth is worried or over the moon about something.

Just as I think my story is important (exciting, frustrating, boring, not good enough), so does everyone else.

Thinking about this has done a couple things for me. First, it’s given me more compassion for my friends, family, and even total strangers. For whatever they might be going through. Most of us, myself included, are so focused on what concerns us as individuals–how we feel, what we eat or don’t eat, what we wear–that we forget the fact that others are concerned about these same things. This should connect rather than separate us. Second, this viewpoint has helped me take life less personally. For example, my struggle with sinus infections FEELS personal because it’s my head that’s full of mucus, but knowing that thousands upon thousands of other people also struggle with sinus infections (or something equally rotten) reminds me that the universe doesn’t have a bullseye on the back of MY head.

It has a bullseye on the back of all of our heads.

But seriously, I don’t believe the universe is out to get us. Rather, I believe it’s out to grow us, to expand our hearts, to connect us. I also believe the individual challenges WE ALL FACE help us grow, expand, and connect. Granted, it’s tempting to think, I’m the only one, and use your pain and sorrow as a means to isolate and separate. But more and more, I don’t recommend this. I don’t recommend going it alone. Rather, I suggest reaching out for help when you need it and giving help in return when asked. I suggest thinking, I’m not terminally unique. We’re all in this together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perfection is ever-elusive.

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On Being Comfortable in Your Own Skin (Blog #984)

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This last week I ate three cheeseburgers, two frosty treats, a plateful of salty nachos, a number of bite-sized desserts, and an ungodly amount of peanut butter (although I guess God did make the glorious stuff). And whereas I was expecting to have gained weight since my last weigh-in eight days ago, this afternoon I discovered I’ve actually lost 1.4 pounds. This brings me to not my lowest weight since I decided to get right with the food lord a few months ago, but to almost my lowest. It’s in the top–er, bottom–three. Perhaps dancing and going to the gym last week paid off. Maybe my metabolism is improving thanks to The Brainstem Wizard. Regardless, I’m considering this a Christmas miracle.

God bless us, everyone.

Motivated to not be drastically derailed from my diet by all the easily available holiday sweets (and my willingness to put them in my mouth), I’ve spent today fasting. Whenever I post pictures on the blog I title them first, and tonight’s selfie is called “icouldeatmyownarm.” So that’s how it’s going. Alas, if I can make it several more hours I can go to bed, today’s fast will be over, and peanut butter and I can be friends again.

Because fasting tends to put me in a cranky mood (I could eat my own arm), I’ve spent the day doing non-stressful things–reading books, watching YouTube. But this evening I thought SURELY I could survive a trip to Walmart, Lowe’s, and Walgreens. You know, for just a few items–prescriptions, shampoo, and such. And whereas I went and survived, it took me five minutes to decide what kind of lightbulbs I needed for one of my lamps and ten minutes to decide what kind of rubber grippy things I needed for the bottom of our microwave. Ugh. Thinking is so hard without food. And get this shit. With respect to both the light bulbs AND the rubber grippy things, I made the WRONG decision. Which means I’ll be going back.

Thank god for returns and exchanges.

The problem with the lightbulbs is that they are BRIGHT white and not SOFT white. When I screwed them into my lamp earlier I noticed they looked different on the outside but tried to convince myself they’d still work. Try something new, I thought. But when I turned the lamp on I was like, Ick, gross, too harsh, I could never. I mean, I could if they were the last lightbulbs in the world and I absolutely had to find my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. But as long as I’ve got the option of softer lighting, I’m going for it. I am, after all, not twenty anymore. My skin’s not as tight as it used to be.

It looks better in indirect lighting.

Along these lines, recently a friend I hadn’t seen in a while told me there was something different about me. “If I had to sum it up nicely,” they said, “you’re more comfortable in your own skin.” I replied, “Maybe that’s because with each passing year my skin is easier and easier to fit into.” But seriously, think about it. No wonder taught-skinned teenagers are so angsty. They’re physically constricted, trapped in their own flesh corsets. But–thankfully–as we age we literally loosen up. Our epidermis becomes the equivalent of sweatpants. Isn’t that nice? We get something we can relax in.

Something we can wear to Walmart.

I keep thinking about the fact that I only have so many of these blogs left (until I reach 1,000, until I reach 1,095). One of my friends is planning a small party for my upcoming milestone, and it’s honestly terrifying me (the milestone, not the party). I think, What if I get to the end and still have more to say? What if my last blog isn’t fabulous? What if it’s ordinary? Alas, more and more I realize there will always be more to say and do. We never get it done–because there’s nothing to get done. Life isn’t a to-do list; it’s an experience. Additionally, in a universe where it’s normal for comets to streak across the sky and for full-grown oaks to evolve out of acorns, there’s nothing wrong with being ordinary because what we consider ordinary is actually miraculous. We look in the mirror and pick ourselves apart–this is too loose, that is too big–and we forget.

We’re absolutely marvelous just the way we are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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On Stumbling Blocks and Stepping Stones (Blog #950)

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After forty hours of fasting, this morning I weighed. The verdict: I lost 2.6 pounds in 24 hours. That’s a total of 13.6 pounds in the last seven weeks and brings me to a weight I haven’t seen in almost two years. Well, except for that time I got the flu twice in one season. But seriously tho, the last time I got down to this weight I decided I could live without losing any more, that weighing what I did in college was enough. And not that I’m deciding it’s enough forever–because my goal isn’t to reach a certain number, but rather to eat well and exercise and see what happens–but I am deciding it’s enough for this moment.

So this evening I ate cornbread.

Tonight’s blog is #950 in a row, and for whatever reason it feels like a big deal. I guess because I remember how proud I felt when I reached #50, and this is 900 more, 900 more days of–life. (I made it.) Somewhere along the way, I do feel like something shifted. I still have bad days, of course, and all the emotions. My outer circumstances haven’t changed all that much, although I guess I have lost weight and made headway with certain physical challenges like sinus infections. And whereas other inner and outer challenges remain, the last 950 days have taught me that I can handle whatever comes my way. Even if it’s not pretty.

Especially if it’s not pretty.

Bring it on, world.

I take that back. I’m probably IN my current predicaments because I’ve said, “Bring it on, world” before. Not that it works that way. If you’re here on the planet, you’re going to face inner and outer challenges because it’s how we grow and evolve. Suffering strongly encourages us to change, to transform.

I hate this as much as you do.

This evening I’ve been irritated about a business matter, which may nor may not turn out to be a big deal. Anyway, I’ve spent the entire night doing things to distract myself from thinking about it–folding laundry, downloading music files (as if I don’t have plenty to listen to already), eating cornbread. Of course, this hasn’t worked, and I’m still stuck with my feelings. The good news is that 1) recently my therapist told me she thought I was better at feeling my feelings than I give myself credit for and 2) I’ve come to understand that even uncomfortable feelings provide us with information. For example, my therapist says when she makes important business or personal decisions, she wants her heart to feel light as a feather. If it doesn’t? Then the decision’s not right. In this sense, I know that if I have feelings I want to run away from, they’re likely simply telling me that something is “off.”

Seen from this perspective, our icky feelings are our allies, in that they alert us to things we NEED to think about even if we don’t want to. For example, time and time again during the past two plus years I’ve started the day with a gross emotion and–thanks to this blog and its ability to help me process–come to a better understanding of myself, others, and the world around me. When I think about the last 950 days, the current matter that’s bothering me seems like less of a problem–not only because I’m reminded of more difficult situations that worked out just fine, but also because I’m reminded that each difficult situation offers us a pearl of wisdom if we are willing to take it.

Along these lines, earlier tonight I read a pamphlet about forgiveness that I picked up at my chiropractor’s office, and one of the points was “learn the lesson.” The point being that forgiving someone or getting past a situation is easier if you can allow it to help you grow. I’ve often said that my ex was real pill but that he was largely instrumental in getting me to therapy (thanks to his ridiculous behavior, not his encouraging words). And therapy’s changed my life. This doesn’t mean anything he did or didn’t do was right and good, of course, but it does mean he provided me an opportunity to grow.

The important part: I took it.

In my experience, few of us SEEK opportunities to grow. Like, who wakes up in the morning and says, “You know, I’ve got a free weekend coming up and think I’d like to turn my world upside and completely change my beliefs about myself, others, God, and the universe”? No, most of us have to be “offered” opportunities to grow, largely where we don’t want them. For example, I would have preferred my ex to be “the one,” to be someone he, quite frankly, was not, rather than the catalyst for my transformation. Earlier this summer a client tried to pull a fast one and get me to do twice the work I’d agreed to but for the same amount, and I would have preferred for them to be integrous, rather than my chance to speak up. My point being that we don’t get to decide how someone else behaves. We only get to decide how we respond, whether we’ll use a challenging situation to become bitter or better.

A popular concept in new age and self-help literature is that the world is an illusion. I’ve come to believe that this doesn’t mean your dining room table or headache isn’t real, although the argument certainly can be made that these things aren’t as solid as we once believed they were. Everything’s made of vibrating atoms and so on. Rather, the idea of something being an illusion is just this–that things aren’t what they seem. Something else is afoot here, Mr. Watson. Using my previous examples, what I mean is that the situation with my ex wasn’t about love or hate or any of his piss-poor behavior. Although I could have made it this, it wasn’t about me being right and him being wrong for all eternity. Likewise, everything I’ve ever been upset or worried about over the last 950 days hasn’t been about those specific things. Instead, it’s been about how I responded to them, whether or not my soul grew or shrank.

This is a mystical perspective, of course, but it’s the one that will ultimately bring you the most peace. Your diet isn’t about how much you weigh; it’s about whether or not you’re being kind to yourself. Are you losing weight as a form of self-punishment or self-love? This is the illusion part. Either way you’re on a diet, but your motivation determines whether or not you’ll be content with your results. If you’re beating yourself up, nothing will ever be good enough. If you’re loving yourself, whatever happens will be okay. In terms of your challenges, do you see them as stumbling blocks or stepping stones? Either way you’re looking at a rock. It’s just a matter of whether the rock uses you, or you use the rock.

My suggestion: use the rock.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

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On Being Confident and Enough (Blog #949)

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Last week, from Sunday evening until Tuesday at noon, I fasted for forty consecutive hours, and since it went so well (I lost 4.2 pounds and reached my lowest weight since I don’t know when), I’m doing it again. Last night at eight I stopped eating, and I haven’t eaten all day today. And whereas I’ve been hungry, only water and green tea have passed my lips. Granted, I’ve been tempted. This afternoon my aunt offered me a bowl of chili, and I almost dove headfirst into the pot. But, having seen good results with what I’ve done thus far (I’ve lost a total of eleven pounds as of this morning), I’m too motivated to continue to quit.

This last week, honestly, I probably ate “worse” than I have since I started my one-year-to-forty health plan seven weeks ago. For example, this weekend was full of carbs–I inhaled tacos, pasta, a huge cheeseburger and fries, AND pancakes (with peanut butter, butter, and syrup). Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now I’m starving. Anyway, despite my indulgences, when I weighed this morning I was still down 3.8 pounds from a week ago and only up .4 pounds from my lowest (after last week’s fast). I assume this is because my body’s metabolism is changing and also because whenever I indulged I made my next meal a light snack. Saint Augustine said, “Love, and do what you will.” I say, “Find balance, and eat what you will.”

But seriously, pancakes with peanut butter.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions and their physical manifestation, and we dove into an issue that used to plague me quite a bit but hasn’t plagued me in a while–hives. During our conversation, my chiropractor asked how having hives made me feel. Panicked, out of control, I thought. (In his method, you don’t have to verbalize your answers). Then he asked me to go back to the first time I felt that way. Thinking of a time when I was about five or six, I said, “Got it.” Then he said, “If you could have felt any other way [besides panicked or out of control], what would that have been?”

“The word that keeps coming to mind is confident,” I said.

Well, me must have hit on something true because when I left my chiropractor’s office and climbed in my car, I began repeating to myself out loud, I am confident, and ended up crying. So often I think my entire intuitive and healing system is broken, but moments like this one remind me that it’s not. Likewise, the fact that I can stick to a dietary plan and lose weight reminds me that I am not the exception to the rules of health and healing. My body (inside and out) was made to work.

Getting back to the idea of confidence, this is what I’m talking about. Sometimes when you’ve faced one disappointment after another, you start to question whether you’ve got what it takes to get by in this world. You start to think that relationships, success, and healing are for everyone else but not for you. But the truth is anything can happen to any of us. We all have our challenges. We all have our triumphs. Things can turn–either way–on a dime. More and more I believe we all have “the stuff” to handle whatever comes our way.

Something else I’ve been thinking about today centers around the idea of reaching your goals. For example, seven weeks ago I set a goal to lose ten to fifteen pounds, and–technically–I’m there. Now, this doesn’t mean I’m finished eating well and fasting once a week, since my original goal was to maintain a certain weight and size and–also–work out consistently for a year and see what happens. God knows I’ve seen what happens when I DON’T eat well and exercise. But my point is that part of me is never satisfied. I lose ten pounds and instead of celebrating I immediately think it needs to be twenty, which simply isn’t reasonable for me. Thus, nothing is ever good enough. I’m never good enough.

My therapist says that getting what you want is scary, that her office is full of people who say they want a different body or better relationship, and as soon as they come close to actually getting one, find a way to sabotage it. They binge on a bucket of ice cream. They flake out our cheat on Mr. or Miss Right. They shoot themselves in the foot. In effect, they prove to themselves that what they want doesn’t exist or is beyond their reach. This has been true in my experience. I’m so used to struggling (in terms of healing, for example), it’s easier to think my goals are unattainable than to think they are attainable and NOT reach them.

Thankfully, this attitude is changing for me. In terms of my body, I’m believing more and more that “this is good enough,” that I don’t have to be the perfect weight, have the perfect cholesterol. There’s no such thing. There’s simply how you are right here, right now, and are you going to love yourself or not? Over two and a half years ago I set out on a journey to blog every day for a year. Well, I did it, and my goal became to blog every day for two years, which I also did. Now the current goal is to blog every day for three years, and I’m telling myself that’s gotta be it–not matter what else I have to say, no matter how many people have or haven’t read it, no matter whether or not the project seems successful to myself or others. At some point, you stop struggling. You give it up. You surrender. After you’ve done all you can do, you let go of the results.

Whatever the results are, they’re enough. You’re enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

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Is It Serious? (Blog #943)

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Sunday evening I started a forty-hour fast that I broke today. Yesterday, Monday, I weighed myself. It wasn’t pretty. I was up 1.6 pounds for the week, a total gain of 2.6 pounds from my lowest point two weeks ago. But then I weighed again today, Tuesday, just before I ended my fast. Y’all, in twenty-four hours I lost 4.2 pounds! This means I’ve lost a total of 11.6 pounds in the last six weeks and am currently at my lowest weight since–I don’t know–over a year ago. (Insert my elastic pants breathing a collective sigh of relief here.) I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I’m five pounds away from skinny-bitch size and ten pounds away from twink size. That being said, if I lose any more body fat, I’m going to have to invest in some flannel underwear for the winter.

This is the essence of balance–skinny bitches and twinks may thrive in the sun, but they shiver in the snow.

Getting back to my forty-hour fast, it was fine. Sure, I got hungry, but never more than I get on a regular basis. The hunger just lasted longer. And whereas I probably went a smidge overboard at breakfast this afternoon (I ate at 12:30), my body handled it well. Sort of. You know that noise an old car makes when you’re trying to start it for the first time in a year–chugga, chugga, splat, hiss, roar? That’s what my stomach sounded like fifteen minutes after breakfast. But that was it. This afternoon I had a light snack (nuts and an apple) and this evening I had a bowl of chicken fried rice and an egg roll, no problem.

After breakfast I exercised at home (part of my routine is pictured above) and listened to a lecture by Alan Watts about the difference between work and play. Watts says it’s mostly a mindset, that he’s seen shoe shiners and bus drivers having an absolute ball by essentially turning their work into a dance. This analogy, of course, made sense to me (because I’m a dancer), the idea that there’s a way to move through any job or task with rhythm and energy. I’ve been trying to do this all day. While doing handyman work, I danced with my tools. While folding laundry, I danced with my pants and socks. Now I’m dancing with my keyboard. Mary Poppins said, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and–snap!–the job’s a game.” Same idea.

I really like this notion of treating whatever you’re doing as a dance, of turning your work into a game. This evening I installed a grab bar in my parents’ shower, and it really was a hoot. For one thing, it was like a mystery–Where can I find a stud (but seriously, where?), Is this gong to work out? In this sense, my working in my parents’ shower was a mini version of my entire life, me wondering what’s going to happen next, if everything is going to come together. And whereas I can’t speak for the future, so far everything HAS come together–including tonight’s shower project–so I’m betting whatever’s left will too.

Watts says there are four fundamental philosophical questions–Who started it?, Are we gonna make it?, Where are we gonna put it?, and Who’s gonna clean up? These questions, he says, beg a fifth question–Is it serious? Well, if you’re familiar with Watts’s work, you’ll know he’d answer no, whatever it is isn’t serious. It won’t matter in a hundred years. What’s more, life is a dance, life is a game. This viewpoint makes the biggest difference. Normally when I diet and exercise I put all this pressure on myself. Like I’m going to hell if I don’t succeed in lowering my cholesterol. But this time around I’ve been more lighthearted about it, like, I’m just going to play around with this and see what happens. You can do this with anything–your finances, your relationships, your job. Don’t make changes because you HAVE TO, because you MUST, but rather because you can, because you WANT to, because it’s fun.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It takes forty years in the desert for seas to part.

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Capable (Blog #934)

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Five weeks ago I started intermittent fasting (eating between noon and 8 PM) and eating healthier (mostly paleo). When I weighed in a week ago, I’d lost 9.8 pounds (woowho). When I weighed today I was up a pound (boo). Still, this is a total loss of 8.8 pounds, and that’s not too shabby, especially considering I’ve been fighting some sinus junk for the last three weeks and haven’t done much exercising. Thankfully, the junk seems to be (finally) clearing out, so forgetting that which is behind, I press forward toward the mark of getting into my own pants (since I can’t get into anyone else’s).

That’s a sex joke, Mom.

Since I began intermittent fasting, a number of people including my therapist have suggested I try fasting for at least a day because fasting for longer periods of time gives your body a break (from digesting) and allows it to focus on healing. So in the spirit of trying new things for the sake of my health (and waistline), starting last night at 9:30 (after I ate a piece of pumpkin pie), I fasted for 23 hours. And whereas I was definitely hungry, it wasn’t terrible. In fact, today was kind of the perfect day. I slept in, spent six hours watching Season 3 of The Deuce, and went for a hourlong walk. Then at 8:30 I had dinner (thanks, Mom). And whereas I ate two helpings, I didn’t go crazy. Now it’s 9:55 and I feel fine–not hungry, not full.

For me the hardest part about not eating for almost 24 hours was deciding I could do it. It’s weird how attached you can get to the idea of food. You think, I’ve got to have it. Last night and this morning (before I’d fully committed to doing this thing) I thought, I’m not sure if I can skip two meals. What if I die? Of course, I didn’t really think of fasting as a matter of life and death, but I did wonder the same thing I’ve always wondered when I’ve quit cigarettes–What if I’m not strong enough? But having quit cigarettes and now having fasted for just under a day, I know I am strong enough. In both cases, it was just a matter of deciding I was going to do it.

And then doing it.

Something else I’ve recently decided to do is take cold showers. This last February I listened to a podcast about the benefits of cold exposure, and although the idea of exercising your cardiovascular system by subjecting it to varied (cold) temperatures made sense to me, I didn’t do much with it. However, last week I signed up for a free 10-day online class with The Iceman, Wim Hof, who’s a huge proponent of cold therapy and deep breathing. Wim has been awarded 26 world records, including one for climbing Mt. Everest in a pair of shorts. Anyway, I figured if he could do that, I could take a two-minute cold shower, which I did today. And whereas it was shocking at first, like the fasting it wasn’t terrible. Once I started breathing deeply (which your body does instinctively if you don’t hold your breath), it was fine. Not pleasant, not cozy, but fine.

As a self-professed cold hater, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but taking a cold shower was actually fun. At least it was fun when it was over. Wim says your body releases cannabinoids and opioids when exposed to cold temperatures, so maybe that was it. Regardless, I did feel euphoric, more alive.

Having struggled with sinus issues most of my life, there’s a part of me that always feels weak. Like I could fall ill at any moment. Consequently, I often don’t trust my body. I get invited to do things, go on long trips, and I think, What if I can’t? What if I get sick? And whereas I don’t have all the health answers I’d like to have (who does?), one of the positive things that’s come out of my journey the last few years is that I’m beginning to trust my body more. Last year I went through a battery of tests that basically said I was healthy as a horse. My immune system is stellar. I don’t have allergies. Granted, I still get some crud now and then, but little by little, I’m coming around to the idea that my body isn’t broken. At the very least I’m learning that I’m stronger than I thought I was. I can fast. I can handle the cold. I can write every day for over two and a half years. Now this is what I’m convinced of–that we are all capable of more than we realize.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one is immune from life’s challenges.

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Slow Your Ass Down (Blog #911)

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Twice last night I dreamed that I took a break from work and drove to In and Out Burgers for something to eat. Both times, they weren’t open. The second time, they’d locked up just minutes before I got there. The waiter, a real pimply faced kid with stringy blonde hair, didn’t seem to care that I was starving. “You’ll have to go somewhere else,” he said. “We’re closed.”

This morning I mowed a lawn then came home to eat. Thanks to intermittent fasting, this has been my routine for the last twelve days–wake up, do something for a couple hours, then–after noon–eat. I get this window every day, eight hours, to eat whatever I want within reason, and then the window closes. Currently it’s four-fifteen in the afternoon, which means the window is open. I just ate two handfuls of nuts and an apple, which means I’m still hungry. I’ve been hungry for twelve days straight. I mean, it’s not awful, I just don’t have that I’m-oh-so-satisfied-because-I-just-ate-French-Toast feeling.

But my pants fit, so there’s that.

This afternoon when I got home from mowing I noticed a plate of desserts on our kitchen counter. Our neighbor, who’s a witch with an oven, had just brought them over. “You should try this bundt cake with butterscotch rum icing,” my dad said. “Go ahead. Just dip your finger in it.”

“No,” I said. “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

This makes two days in a row that I’ve turned down a dessert that was sitting right in front of my face, just begging to be eaten. What is happening to me? After breakfast I thought, I wonder if I have the willpower (dedication, motivation) to keep this up for an entire year, until I’m 40. Just how bad do I want a rockin’ bod (instead of a rockin’ dad-bod)? What I finally determined was that I had the willpower to stick with things today and that I can worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Will there be exceptions made along this journey? Absolutely. I’m positively determined to not be a perfectionist about this physical transformation. Give me a special occasion, and I’ll tear up a chocolate cake. But I simply can’t believe that a weekday qualifies as a special occasion and expect to reach my goals. It’s why I haven’t made even one exception to writing this blog every day. I know myself too well. If I take a break for a  day, it’ll turn into a week.

Know thyself.

Getting back to the dream I had last night, it obviously had something to do with my diet. Any time I’ve quit cigarettes I dream about smoking, and any time I go on a diet I dream about cheeseburgers and cookies. It’s like my subconscious is saying, “Hey! Where’d all the good stuff go?” This being said, I really think the dream was driving home the idea that I can’t nourish or sustain myself with any sort of “fast food,” anything in-and-out. This applies to food, friendships, ideologies, philosophies, and work. No, it simply takes time to cultivate anything worthwhile, either inside yourself or outside yourself. It takes desire, will, intent, focus, dedication, dedication, and patience.

I know I said dedication twice. It’s really important.

God’s not a fast-mover.

In terms of patience, I think this idea often gets represented in my dreams as waiters in restaurants. That is, wait-ers, people who wait. I hate that this quality is so needed for everything worthwhile–skills we learn and develop, relationships we cultivate, diets we go on. I hate it, hate it, hate it as much as you do. And yet it’s simply the way of things. God’s not a fast-mover. It takes an entire year (by definition) for the earth to travel around the sun. It takes about ninety days for the seasons to change. But you think you can change faster? Bitch, please. Slow your ass down. Take a deep breath. Do The Hard Work. Wait. The universe isn’t in a hurry.

You don’t have to be either.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing was made to last forever.

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Things Can Turn on a Dime (Blog #901)

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Okay. I’ve been on a diet for twenty-four hours and my thighs still rub together when I walk. What the actual hell? If only deciding to take care of yourself produced immediate results. Alas, this is not the instant gratification station. This is the work hard, be consistent, make good choices station. This is the chocolate cake makes your ass bigger not smaller channel. This is planet earth.

I know. I hate it too.

I’m grousing, but the changes I’ve made in the last twenty-four hours truly haven’t sucked. Last night before blogging I went to the grocery store for snacks, fruits, vegetables, and protein, then went to the gym with my dad after. “Are we going to do this every night?” he said.

“What about every other night?” I replied.

Every other night seems like a reasonable goal, one I could achieve instead of overachieve. What’s the saying? Set yourself up for success.

Today I’ve eaten three reasonable meals–no bread, no refined sugar, no alcohol. After each meal I felt full but not stuffed. What’s this feeling of non-expansion? I thought. In terms of exercise, this morning I mowed a lawn. Tonight I went for a twenty-minute walk. And whereas I used to think a walk didn’t count unless it was at least an hour and uphill all the way, tonight I thought, Twenty minutes is twenty minutes. I mean, I broke a sweat.

What’s nice about all the changes I’m making this week–and I admit they’re a bit “all at once”–is that none of them are new. Like, I’ve eaten mostly paleo before, I’ve been a gym rat before, and I’ve gone on walks before. This means that with little resistance I can slip into these routines like an old shoe. The part of my mind that loves carbs kicks up a bit of a fuss, of course, but most of me is like, Oh yeah, we know how to do this.

All this being said, the one thing I’m doing that I haven’t done before is intermittent fasting, which basically amounts to not eating between 8 PM and noon the next day. Eat however many meals you want (within reason) between noon and eight, but then zip your lips for sixteen hours. The idea (behind any type of fast) is that it not only gives your body a break (because digestion takes a lot of work), but it also allows your body to burn fat for fuel instead of all that pizza and ice cream you’ve been chunking down your throat. (Or is that just me?) Anyway, a friend of mine has been raving about it–they’ve lost fifteen pounds in the last six to eight weeks–so I figured, What the hell? I’ll give it a shot.

Now, I realize I’ve only been at this one day, but so far I like it. Sure, last night was rough. Two hours after having a smoothie at 7:30, I was starving. I went to bed hungry. Boo-hoo. But I told myself, If I’m starving in the morning, I’ll eat. Surely a little fast is better than no fast at all. But get this shit. When I woke up at nine this morning, I was fine. Not really hungry at all. So I skipped breakfast and went to work. Well, I had a cup of hot tea (non-caloric beverages are allowed.) Y’all, I mowed and weedeated in the hot sun for two hours and was fine. What’s more, I actually had an excess of energy (an excess of fat, boo-hoo). Now, was I READY to eat when the clock struck twelve? You bet your sweet bippy. But in my head I’d made it out to be this awful thing–I can’t eat for 16 hours, somebody get me a cross to hang on!–and yet it wasn’t awful at all. It simply wasn’t.

When I got home from mowing today I took my shoes off and banged them together to shake off the grass and dirt. As I did, I noticed a small rock–a large pebble–dislodged itself from the grooves in one of my shoes and landed in my parents’ flowerbed. And maybe this is weird, but I thought about that rock as if it were a teeny-tiny person. Like, it’d probably been hanging out in Fort Smith in my client’s driveway for years, and then all of a sudden got swooped up and transported to Van Buren. Just like that.

Along the same lines, get this. This evening I taught a dance lesson to a couple about to be married. The guy was born in another country, came to the United States, bounced around a bit, and finally met his fiancee up north. Then he got a job down here, and kind of like my shoe picked up that rock and brought it across the Arkansas River, he picked up his fiancee and brought her here too. Through a strange series of events, they ended up on my dance floor. After all these years, we finally met.

I really am astounded by this. How a rock or a person can hang out in one mental, emotional, or physical place and then–bam, like that–be transported to another. Is there work involved? Of course. There’s always work involved. In terms of bodily transformations, you gotta do shit. God’s not gonna strike you skinny. (Although, I guess, you could get one of those awful stomach viruses). In terms of personal growth, you gotta do shit. (My suggestion: see a therapist.) But my point is that at some point there’s a tipping point. (That’s a lot of points, I know.) This is why people say things can turn on a dime. Sooner or later, your hard work, your patience, pays off. Sooner or later, you see results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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