On Levity and Gravity (Blog #510)

Today and I went to therapy, and–for the first time in a long time–didn’t refer to “the list.” Rather, I let things unfold naturally and talked about whatever came to my mind. I’m frustrated about this. I’m worn out about that. I’m angry about this AND that. “Here,” my therapist said, “take these squeezie balls and squeeze the shit out of them.” (I took the squeezie balls, one in each hand.) “Or do you need to throw something? I have things you can throw if you want to throw things.”

As instructed, I squeezed the shit out of the balls.

“I think these will do,” I said, then continued to vent, mostly about the fact that my life isn’t working like I want it to work right now. “I just feel so–(squeeze, squeeze)–fucking stuck.”

“Maybe you need to get laid,” she said.

“Yes, that’d be great,” I agreed, squeezing some more. “I’ll get right on that.”

I swear. She makes getting laid sound so easy. Maybe it would be if I were. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.)

Okay, here’s something wonderful about seeing a therapist. Specifically, here’s something wonderful about seeing MY therapist. No matter what mood I’m in or what we’re talking about, I almost always end up laughing. Even today while I was venting my frustrations about life, I was actually laughing and having a good time. And whereas this kind of joking around happens with some of my friends–I don’t know–when I over-vent to my friends, things can get so–what’s the word?–heavy. I mean, no one knows what to say when someone you love dies or you lose your job and you don’t know what the hell you’re doing with your life.

Or whatever your problem is.

But that’s a therapist’s job–to first of all know how to listen and second of all know what to say. They went to school for that shit! Not that they get it right every time (my therapist says she thinks she hits the nail on the head about thirty percent of the time), but at least they’re–ideally–objective, as much as a person can be. Like, with a friend or family member, they’re invested, often tied to or affected by your issues. But a therapist–who hears the good, the bad, and the ugly day-in and day-out–can offer a different, more-detached perspective. I know mine can watch me yell or scream or cry and not take it personally. Instead, she can support me by offering compassion, making me laugh, or otherwise helping me to lighten up.

“Let it out,” she says. “This is normal. YOU are normal. You’re going to make it. You’re going to get laid.”

Or whatever.

But back to lightning up. I’m currently reading a book called On Becoming an Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun that’s right up my alley. Today I read that two terms alchemists (people who, by one definition, are concerned with transformation) often use are “levity” and “gravity.” Levity, of course, relates to being light-hearted, lightening up, and not taking yourself or life so seriously. Think–gold. Gravity, on the other hand, relates to being heavy-hearted, serious, or–well–grave. Think–lead. Also, think about how “grave” is actually a term that relates to death or that which is below rather than above the surface (of the earth, of your consciousness).

One of my takeaways from reading about all this is that one’s perspective and (consequently) their emotions change depending on whether they’re looking at a problem from “below” or “above.” Think about it. When you’re feeling “down” and taking both yourself seriously, the world looks worse than it does when you’re feeling “up.” And it’s not that your problems have moved; it’s that YOU have.

This, I think, has been the prized jewel I’ve discovered through my work with my therapist and this blog–movement. On the horizontal plane of matter, time, and space, my problems look much the same. If it’s not one damn thing, it’s another. I still get angry and frustrated about all of it. But on the vertical plane of spirituality, psychology, and my interior, my life looks much different than it did before. Not that I don’t have “down” days, but I’m more “up” than I ever have been. Consequently, I see both myself and life differently, better. My problems are fewer and farther between. Largely due to my perspective, they resolve faster.

Except, apparently, the getting laid thing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.

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The Path of Least Resistance (Blog #65)

Yesterday we moved from Tim’s apartment to Ben and Mallory’s house, which means I got my own room. Also, instead of sleeping on a couch last night, I slept on a “double futon.” (A double futon is two futon mattresses stacked on top of each other–very creative–it’s almost like a bed.) What’s more, there were A LOT of pretty pillows, so I kind of felt like a princess. You know–a princess who snores.

This afternoon Bonnie woke me up for what we’ve started calling my “forced feeding.” Having only slept five hours last night–er–this morning–I almost skipped it. But then Bonnie said we were going to Chuy’s Tex-Mex, so I figured sodium was way more important than sleep. After all, IT IS a mineral.

At Chuy’s I ordered a Big As Yo Face Burrito, and when it came out, I didn’t think it was ACTUALLY as big as my face. I considered holding the plate up next to my head and taking a selfie, but then I figured the cheese sauce would drip onto my shorts, and that simply wouldn’t do. So here’s a picture of the food, without my face beside it.

I’m proud to say that I did NOT eat the entire burrito at lunch. However, I can’t say the same for the basket of chips. But at least I wasn’t alone in eating those; everyone had their hands in them. (Mallory said that when she grows up, she wants to be a carb because everyone loves them.)

When we left the restaurant, Bonnie, Mallory, and I took the photo at the top of the blog, and Bonnie and I opened our mouths so that we would look like Mallory. Mallory said that sometimes she opens her mouth in photos if her regular smile isn’t working for her. (I love a good strategy.)

While the rest of us were eating lunch, Todd went on a fifty mile bike ride. Bonnie kept joking that he did the whole thing on nothing but a cup of coffee, but Todd said he also had a banana. (There’s so much about calorie theory that I don’t understand. But then again, Todd’s pants fit and mine don’t.) Anyway, after lunch, we all crashed pretty hard–Todd because of the ride–the rest of us because of the Tex-Mex.

This evening Ben and Mallory stayed home to watch the Predators game. The Predators are Nashville’s ice hockey team, and they’re currently competing in the Stanley Cup. It’s a big deal around here. Here’s a video of Mallory yelling at the television during the game. Notice how she’s still able to maintain her Southern Charm.

While Ben and Mallory watched the game, the rest of us got ready to go to a free swing dance with a live band at Centennial Park, the place where the Parthenon is. I noticed while I got ready that my favorite pair of underwear had a small tear in them, maybe because I ripped them on something, maybe because they’ve fought the good fight and just can’t do it any longer. (This only goes to show that even the best elastic is no match for a mineral like sodium.)

Before we left, Bonnie and Todd handed out souvenirs from their recent trip overseas. Here’s a picture of Ben with a shirt from fucking Paris. Also–

I joked that I should crop Ben’s picture to thumbnail size and use it on the blog whenever I say a cuss word, which would obviously mean that he’d be my official mascot in no time.

At the dance, Bonnie, Todd, Tim, and his girlfriend took a beginner lesson, and I watched their stuff. Here’s a picture of me with a portable chair, a bottle of water, and Bonnie’s purse, which I don’t really think matches my outfit, but did seem to be just the right size.

For the last hour, I’ve been stuck where this picture was taken. I mean, I’m currently back at Ben and Mallory’s–everyone else is in bed–but I’ve been mentally stuck at the dance because I’m not sure how to wrap up the day. Honestly, I need to get some sleep. I keep thinking about those princess pillows. But as far as this website goes, it’s not a blog that just talks about my day. Rather, it’s a blog that talks about my day AND how that connects to mental health, spirituality, and just being a damn person. (Pardon my French.) Because of that fact, I put a lot of pressure on myself (and everyone else around me) to–say something profound. I go through every day expecting a big burrito to change my life so that I can have something to write about each night.

Frankly, it’s exhausting.

At one point tonight, I danced with a girl named Eleanna whom I met earlier this week at Motown Mondays at The 5 Spot. She’s a lovely person and dancer, and apparently she’s learned strictly on the social dance floor. After we danced together, we got to talking, and she asked if I had any tips, so I got to play the teacher for a while. One of the things I had her do was to stand with her feet together and lean her upper body to one side until she was forced to take a few steps. If you try this for yourself, you’ll notice that you travel farther across the floor, with much less effort, than you would if you were standing up right and forced yourself to move. That’s because when you lean, gravity pulls you and you don’t have to do all the work yourself.

There’s a concept in the self-help world called The Path of Least Resistance, and it has to do with the idea that life is actually on our side. Like gravity, it’s pulling us in a certain direction. But all too often, we put up a fight. Rather than leaning into a problem or situation, rather than taking the path of least resistance, we stand straight up, force every step, and take the path of most resistance.

So that’s something I’m working on. In terms of my life right now, I’m really, really trying to not force every step, to lean in to all the uncertainty and see where life pulls me. I’ll let you know if it works out. What I can say now is that the theory helped me finish tonight’s blog. For over an hour, I tried to force something to happen. But as soon as I got honest about the fact that I was stuck, actually wrote it down, the direction I needed to go became obvious. So I’m starting to believe that no one dances completely alone. Even when it feels like you’re stuck, there’s a partner waiting for you. But maybe first you have to stop trying so hard and lean in a little, trusting that life not only wants to dance with you to unknown places, but also that it will provide the momentum to get you there.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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