On What’s Good for the Goose (Blog #1049)

It’s 5:30 in the evening, and I’ve spent the entire afternoon reading and sipping hot tea. (Life doesn’t suck.) I finished two books, the first being Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes (which was sad), and the second being The Eleusinian Mysteries & Rites by Dudley Wright (which was mysterious). I’m blogging now so I can have the rest of the night to work with a client and then, maybe later, work out. Ugh. I stepped on the scale this last Sunday, and APPARENTLY you have to go to the gym more than once a week in order for it to make a difference. And not eat peanut butter half a jar at a time. But I digress. Suffice it to say that no one’s physical health, mental health, or spiritual journey proceeds in a straight line.

Our scales and our lives are full of ups and downs.

For the longest time I’ve been obsessed with having good posture. Alas, despite having tried a number of methods (yoga, exercise, stretching, SITTING UP STRAIGHT), I have a perpetually rounded back. Or at least I did until I encountered upper cervical care a few months ago. Since then my posture has been steadily improving, really without my having to try. This afternoon I noticed that my shoulder blades are ever less rounded, more and more “back and down.” And whereas this may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, it’s miraculous in my eyes, something I’ve wanted and worked toward for years and had all but given up hope of obtaining. And yet more and more, here it is.

Something I’ve been thinking about today is the fact that each of our journeys is different. Joseph Campbell said, “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or a path, it is someone else’s path. You are not on your own path. If you follow anyone else’s way, you are not going to realize your potential.” Used to I’d read books about life’s mysteries and think other people had it figured out, that I had to do what they were doing if I were to “succeed.” But, I thought, I can’t do what they’re doing. Their healing thing isn’t offered here in Arkansas, and I don’t have the money to travel. This, of course, was hopeless, as is always the case when you think you should be OVER THERE on someone else’s path instead of right here, right now.

On yours.

More and more I trust the path I’m on–for me. Too much healing and too many cool things have happened on it for me not to. Likewise, more and more I trust the path others are on–for them. That is, I can share my wonderful experiences and make suggestions about what has been helpful, but it would be arrogant of me to assume that someone else SHOULD do something just because I’ve done it and found it useful. At the end of Mary Karr’s The Art of Memoir, she lists literally hundreds of books under the heading Required Reading. Bullshit. Just because it was required for you doesn’t mean it’s required for the rest of the world. Harrumph. What’s good for the goose isn’t necessarily good for the gander.

Now, one final thought.

A phrase I’ve been using A LOT of lately is “more and more,” since I read that our subconscious is adverse to changing instantly (I’m healthy as a horse NOW), but is certainly open to changing by degrees (more and more I’m healing). So far, this strategy is working. Not only does it help me be gentle with myself and the process of change, but it also reminds me that The Path (my path, your path) is travelled not all at once, but rather one step at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Abundance comes in many forms.

"

You Can Go Home Again (Blog #1047)

Last night while blogging I half-assed listened to an audio track about relaxation and the diminishment of pain. And whereas I didn’t catch all the details, one thing I did absorb was the prompt to notice some part, any part, of your body that isn’t in pain, that feels good. “How do you know this part is all right?” the audio asked. “It feels natural, comfortable.” The idea being that all of our bodies should feel that way, or at least ARE CAPABLE of feeling that way. So both last night and today I’ve been trying to literally relax into this idea, to first notice parts of my body that are tense, and second let them soften.

Of course, my natural inclination when something hurts is to brace against it. But I really like this concept of softening. The audio suggested that our bodies are our HOMES, and I can’t tell you how much I love this thought. Looking around my physical home (my room), I’ve spent a lot of time getting everything just so. I’ve hung and rehung pictures, arranged books, organized my closet, cleaned sheets, fluffed pillows, dusted shelves. And all for what? So I can be COMFORTABLE, so I can feel AT HOME. So that’s how I’ve been thinking about my body today, that it’s been INTENDED as a space where I can feel safe, at ease, and at rest. And why shouldn’t I feel comfortable in my own skin?

Like, I live here.

Now, I wish I could tell you that this one shift in perception, thinking that my body is my home rather than simply a worn-down motel on Midland Avenue, has turned my life around in the last twenty-four hours. Alas, it has not. It has, however, made a difference. Thanks to this one idea, I’ve found myself not only breathing deeper but also letting go more. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s like I’ve been able to allow my body to more fully inhabit the space it occupies, to lean into being right here, right now. You know that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop? Well, it’s the opposite of that. An exhalation. What’s the word I’m looking for?

A relief.

This afternoon I started reading Daniel Keyes’s Flowers for Algernon, a science fiction novel about a mentally challenged adult, Charlie, who undergoes brain surgery to make him a genius. And whereas Charlie hopes to go into the surgery “dumb” and wake up “smart,” the doctors tell him that’s not the way these things work. Rather, he should expect to see changes over a period of time. “It could happen so slowly that you may not even notice a difference at first,” they tell him. Of course, this is the way it goes. And yet little by little Charlie learns to spell correctly, use proper punctuation, remember his dreams and his life, and–here’s the heartbreaker–realize that people he thought were his friends had been making fun of him for years. Now, by yours and my standards these things DO happen fast. Charlies goes from an IQ of 70 to an IQ of 185 in a matter of months. But the point remains.

Our progress is never as swift as we dream it will be. We proceed by fits and starts.

Shakespeare said, “How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?” This has been my experience. Six years ago I began therapy, and although I’ve grown and healed a lot, it’s happened so slowly that I can’t say exactly when and where it happened (other than inside me). It’s been a tough conversation here, a confrontation there, a cry fest or rage fest–I know know–once every month or two. So too has my body healed, is healing. Here and there. Granted, I’ve had some pretty remarkable experiences and improvements in the last few months, but they weren’t like, one and done instant miracles. Plenty of things still hurt, gurgle, or produce excess mucus. This is the deal. When you haven’t been home in a while, you don’t move back and get totally settled in just like that. There’s always work to do. And yet it can happen. You CAN go home again. Home to your body. Home to your soul.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

"