The Gift of Indifference (Blog #977)

Today I’ve been thinking about power.

I’ll explain.

According to Caroline Myss, life is about power. To help people become aware of their own power, she often asks audience members, “Do you want my magic marker?” Of course, no one does. Think about it. Unless you have a strange fetish for Sharpies, it’s like, Whatever, lady, I don’t need your pen. I’m just fine without it. “THAT’S how you SHOULD feel when something has NO POWER over you,” she says.

Conversely, we all know what it feels like when something–or someone–HAS power over us. Yesterday I blogged about my being jealous of or wanting approval from other (in my opinion, better) swing dancers, and this is what I’m talking about, that feeling that you NEED something from someone else. If you personally don’t give a shit what some Lindy Hop guru thinks of you, good. Also, this illustrates that someone could easily HOLD POWER over me but BE A MAGIC MARKER to you. Still, even if this is the case, I guarantee there’s SOMETHING or SOMEONE you want something from, something or someone who pulls you out of your authenticity. Because that’s the deal. When you GIVE your power away to someone else, you quite literally give part of your life to them to manage for you. In the extremes this looks like being someone else’s whipping boy, bitch, or puppet, which is what the story of Pinocchio is about. At first anyone could make him do anything, but the more he listened to HIS conscience, the more REAL he became and the less others could control him.

Along these lines, how many times have you said, “I can’t, you decide”? Or, “What do YOU think I should do?”? I’m not saying it’s the end of the world to ask someone else’s opinion or advice, but when someone else says jump and you start hopping, that’s a problem. Here’s another, more specific way to dig into this. If you were going to move, change jobs, start a relationship, or, hell, go out to dinner tomorrow, whose approval would you need first? You might think this is a ridiculous question, and on one level it is. You shouldn’t need ANYONE’S approval to go to the International House of Pancakes. But on another level, we all know people who stay in miserable towns, jobs, and marriages because they’re afraid of disappointing their parents, spouses, friends, or god.

Recently I blogged about how one person can influence another (and to be clear, that influence can be positive just as well as negative), and used the example of a man my dad met in prison who introduced our family to the Old Testament Law. And whereas I could go on for days about how our lives changed thanks to this introduction, the long and the short of it is I stopped eating bacon. In terms of tonight’s conversation, I now see that I’d given my power away. Specifically, I gave up my POWER TO CHOOSE between a roast beef and ham sandwich. Instead, I let someone else (my dad’s friend, my dad, the Old Testament, God) do that for me. I did this because, as I told my chiropractor who deals with emotions today, “I was AFRAID God was going to WAX MY ASS if I didn’t obey him.”

“Wax your ass?” he said. “Now THAT would be an interesting sensation.”

At which point we both laughed.

Because this has been on my mind so much lately and because I think this is hugely important, here’s ANOTHER way to look at this issue of power. This afternoon I went to the Fort Smith Public Library for their annual rare and vintage book sale. (Y’all know I love a good book with an attractive cover.) Well, right off the bat I noticed an old set of eight illustrated books about the human body–the circulatory system, the nervous system, etc. And whereas I’m not a doctor or a biologist, I got sucked right in. The drawings are so pretty, I thought. The covers are gorgeous–pristine. And all for $35. But then I thought, You have no NEED for these, Marcus. And don’t kid yourself–you’re NEVER going to read them. So I put them down like a hot potato, browsed around the room, and ultimately walked away empty handed.

But of course I had my $35.

My point in telling this story is that we all know that googly-eyed feeling of being drawn in by a pretty object or person. This is what it feels like when your power LEAVES YOU. Again, I’m not saying it’s bad to desire something (it’s kind of fun actually), but I am saying–let’s be clear–anytime you start acting like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (I WANTS IT), you’re under a spell. If you get the thing–or person–home later and have buyer’s remorse, maybe you didn’t completely give away your power car, but you definitely gave up the wheel for a while.

My therapist says the natural state of the universe is neutral, and more and more neutrality is my goal. This looks like me being real middle-of-the-road about how much money I have, whether or not other people like me or want to take me to bed, and how the rest of the world perceives me. I have a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous who says that when thinking about people who have absolutely done you wrong, you don’t want to seething-hate them, but you don’t want to squishy-love them either. “Your goal is indifference,” they say. This is the same thing as being neutral.

You WANT them to be a magic marker.

If being indifferent sounds cold, maybe it is. My therapist says when it comes to money, she has ice water running through her veins. But what this really means is that she’s NOT ATTACHED to money or the things it can buy. That is, they have NO POWER over her. Consequently, she’s a badass business woman. So she can walk into a car dealership and, even if she adores a certain vehicle, if the price isn’t right, she can walk away. This is the gift of indifference. This is what neutrality really is, being empowered enough to not feel like you HAVE to buy the thing, take the miserable job, or do what someone else wants. It’s having YOUR power, YOUR spirit, at home in YOUR body and NOT somewhere else.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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On Boundaries, Bridges, and Walls (Blog #745)

Yesterday I house sat for a friend of mine who has four dogs. You should have seen me trying to dry them off when they came in out of the rain last night. You should have also seen me stumble out of bed this morning at six-thirty to let them outside. No, I take that back. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t pretty. This boy needs his beauty rest. Which I got eventually. After letting the dogs outside, I went back to sleep.

When I woke back up at eleven-thirty, I was refreshed. What a lovely day, I thought. Then I realized I’d forgotten to put a tracker on the youngest dog’s collar. Well shit, I thought as I leaped out of bed. What if she’s run off? (My friend lives in the country.) Thankfully, she hadn’t. However, despite my best efforts, she wouldn’t come back to the house or even let me near her to put the tracker on. For over three hours I periodically went outside and tried to approach the dog. Every time she ran off. Even treats didn’t do the trick. Nothing worked. My friend sent me a text and said to scoop her some canned dog food into a bowl, but even that failed. Granted, it attracted the three other dogs and even a cat, but not the dog I needed it to. Seriously, I might as well have been trying to catch a bunny rabbit with a butterfly net.

I know people like this, who run away when you try to connect with them. My therapist says the technical term is “avoidant attachment,” meaning they avoid making (even healthy) attachments. She says if you want to drive yourself crazy, try caring about someone like this. (It’s hell.) But back to the dog. Finally, I tried a different approach. Slowly, I walked down the long driveway, ignoring her. (She followed.) Then I sat down in a chair, still ignoring her. The next thing I knew, she was right beside me, panting. Then she just sat there as I petted her and attached the tracker. What the hell? For three hours she runs away from me, then the second I stop giving a shit, she’s practically up in my lap.

As my therapist says, indifference is the great stimulus to wanting.

Think about that.

After this encounter, I put the above-mentioned bowl of dog food on the porch. And just like that, the dog that had given me so much trouble and avoided all my begging, pleading, and bribing, was on the porch licking the bowl clean. I swear. Some creatures have to have EVERYTHING on THEIR terms.

Clearly, I’m not the dog whisperer. And whereas trying to get my friend’s dog to come near me was frustrating, I realized it wasn’t personal. For her, it was probably a game. Or perhaps she doesn’t like her tracker and remembered the last time (a couple weeks ago) I put in on her. This morning I listened to a podcast about trauma, and one of the speakers said that we (as humans) often avoid others because some part of us is afraid. Some part of us thinks, I’ve trusted people before and got seriously hurt. I’m not going to let that happen again! So we avoid attachments. In order to protect ourselves, we build walls.

Personally, I used to get a lot of shit for my walls. My friends were always nice about it, but they’d joke that I’d only let them so close, that I kept them at a distance. I’m sure I still do this at times. Old habits die hard. Plus, I have this thing for boundaries. But my therapist says boundaries aren’t walls, they’re bridges. (Isn’t that cute?) That is, walls simply keep people out; boundaries inform others how they can get close to us. They’re like the rules of board game. They say, “This is how we can play together.”

Personally, I think boundaries should be taught in school or Sunday school or wherever teaching is offered. For me, they’ve been much more useful than Algebra ever has been. (Sorry, math teachers.) But seriously, boundaries get talked about a lot as a concept, but they’re rarely practiced or properly modeled. My therapist says they scare people. Maybe because people hear “boundaries” and think walls. But the two are vastly different. Plus, think about this–walls work both ways. That is, sure, they keep others from getting in (phew, you can’t get hurt), but that also means you can’t get out. You’ve got all this love and compassion inside you (don’t tell me you don’t), and there’s nowhere for it to go. Because it’s trapped. Because you’ve built this great barrier. Because, you know, you’re an island.

That’s what I used to think. I am a rock, I am an island. Like the Simon and Garfunkel song. This thinking, of course, was utter bullshit. We’re meant for connection. My friend’s dog showed me that today. She wanted that dog food just as badly as I wanted her to have it (I was tired of holding it). But she needed to feel safe first. She needed me sitting down first. That was her boundary. That was her bridge. I think we’re all looking for this–a bridge, a way to connect–with nearly everyone. I’m not saying this is easy. It’s tough to invite people in, even on your terms. It’s tough to trust people. Because people can hurt you. But people can also heal you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself a break.

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