On Properly Directed Imagination (Blog #1021)

Last night when I got home from painting at 10:30, my dad asked me, “Do you want to go WORK OUT?” Well, the television was on, and–silly me–I thought he was asking about my evening and heard, “Are you WORN OUT?” So I said, “Yes.” (Because I felt like crap.) Then he asked if I still needed to blog (the answer was yes again), which I thought he asked because he was going to suggest that I go to be early. But no, he was (I found out later) trying to figure out when we’d be leaving for the gym. Y’all, I blogged until 1:00 in the morning, and the whole time my dad was patiently waiting for me on the couch. When I finished he said, “Ready to go to the gym?”

“The gym?” I said. “I’m going to bed.”

So thirty minutes ago my dad dragged my mother into the laundry room where I was working on arts and crafts and said, “Okay, I have a witness. Do–you–want–to–go–work–out–tonight?”

“Yes, I actually would like to WORK OUT tonight,” I said. “But I have to blog first.”

So here I am, blogging.

For the last two and a half weeks I’ve been fighting a sinus infection, but–thankfully–have felt better today. (Fingers crossed this trend continues.) This afternoon I had lunch with a friend. Then I went thrift shopping but didn’t buy anything (way to go, Marcus). Then this evening I did some odd jobs for a client. Then–when I came home and Dad told me my driver’s side headlight was out–I put a new bulb in my car. Then I combed through picture frames and old book covers and matched them to some brooches I recently acquired. I can’t tell you how fun this is for me. Whenever the creative mood strikes, seriously, time and my worries fly away. Magically, I’m transported to a better place.

Along the lines of creativity, this evening in an old book I recently bought (for the cover) I ran across an article about creativity and genius by the artist Frederic Whitaker. In it he compares and contrasts insanity to genius and says, “Insanity is imagination without control. Genius is imagination under control–plus the divine spark that we call driving force.” I absolutely adore these definitions, especially considering that we all too often MISUSE our imagination. For example, both me and my dad each IMAGINED a certain conversation about our going to work out (or my being worn out) last night, neither of which was TRUE. Likewise, don’t we all IMAGINE the thoughts, behaviors, and judgments of others on a daily basis (and aren’t those imaginations often negative and, therefore, pain-inducing)?

Isn’t this too imagination without control (that is, insanity)?

More and more I believe that imagination, creativity, and genius were meant for arts and crafts projects, home building and decorating, landscaping, dancing, playing musical instruments, and SOLVING problems, not INVENTING them. Because isn’t that what’s happening when we presume to know what someone else is thinking, feeling, or doing–creating problems out of thin air? I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve lost sleep believing someone was mad at me or–worse–intentionally trying to screw up my life when–I found out later–they weren’t. Like, at all. This is where misdirected imagination leads you–into the land of insomnia, anxiety, stress, and depression.

Properly directed imagination, however, leads you out of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life doesn’t need us to boss it around.

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When You Feel Like Giving Up (Blog #242)

After forty-three straight days of having a life-draining, soul-sucking sinus infection, today I’ve felt like a new man. Last night I rubbed kimchi juice in my nostrils, and I’m assuming that’s what’s done the trick. It’s gotta be that or the hundred and one vitamins I’m taking. Currently I’m still having some allergy issues, still coughing, but despite the fact that I didn’t sleep much last night, my energy today has been off the charts. I’ve spent the last six weeks absolutely wiped out, tired behind the eyes all day long, but today I was awake for ten hours before I even thought the word “tired,” and then it was while walking up a broken escalator. (Talk about a tease.) So things aren’t “perfect,” but the difference between yesterday and today has been astounding. More than the physical improvements, I’ve been happy all day, walking around with my chest stuck out like a damn superhero just because I’ve felt close to normal. Y’all, it’s not something to take for granted.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and whereas I’d planned to talk about how I was tired of being strong, how being sick for six weeks had almost completely drained me of hope, I ended up talking about how I put fermented food up my nose and woke up twelve hours later with the energy of Rainbow Brite. My therapist said she didn’t think it was an accident that I’d been spending so much time searching the internet and finally came across something that worked. She said, “I think you needed a win, and the universe gave you one.” Then she added that when you feel like giving up, that’s when you have to keep going, since help is probably just around the corner.

Personally, I think this is a shit deal and don’t know why life is set up this way. Don’t get me wrong–I’m thrilled and grateful beyond measure for the bacterial miracle I’m currently experiencing. This could seriously be a game-changer. Still, I’d like go on record as saying that I think it sucks when the universe drops you to your knees then turns right around and asks you to push a little harder. Just keep going, help is right around the corner. Like, couldn’t help move half a block and make my life easier? Not that anybody in charge asked for my opinion. As Byron Katie says, “You don’t get a vote.” So I guess we’re back to that idea–acceptance. I could wake up tomorrow and feel like a million bucks or I could be sicker than ever. Either way, what am I gonna do about that?

After therapy I spent most of the day reading. Then I went to the mall and looked around because my therapist said–when we were talking about pride–that I should wear a shirt with a single gold star on it, the implication being that I’m a gold-star gay. (A gold-star gay is a homosexual who’s never slept with a woman, Mom. A double-gold or platinum-star gay is a homosexual who was born by c-section, thus making him someone who’s never (ever) touched a vagina.) Anyway, the only shirt I could find with a star on it was red with a yellow star. But since I’m wanting to look like a homosexual and not a hot dog, I didn’t buy it.

I’m sure there’s some joke that could be made about “wiener” at this point, but I’m too tired to think of it. Plus, my mom reads this.

Tonight I decided to back off some of the vitamins I’m taking. First, I didn’t sleep well last night, and that’s unusual. Along the same lines, I’ve felt rather “hyped up” today. Second, my stomach has been a skosh upset. Well, the problem is that I’m taking ten different vitamins, so it’s hard to know what’s causing what or if they’re even a factor in what’s going on. Still, I’m not usually one to sit still on such matters, so I Googled the side effects for every single one of the vitamins. And whereas practically all of them can cause an upset stomach, only one of them can cause insomnia (echinacea). So I cut out echinacea for this evening, as well as vitamin c, since I was hitting that pretty hard and it’s the most famous for causing stomach problems if you go overboard.

As always, figuring this out feels like trying to ski down a mountain backwards and blindfolded.

Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds.

I guess we all do the best we can. As the old hymn says, “One day at a time, sweet Jesus.” But even though I’m not a hundred percent better, I’ve been thinking, Oh well, I’ll get over this soon enough. I mean, if a six-week sinus infection can start to turn itself around in less than a day, anything really is possible. My therapist and I talked about this today and how it could apply to other aspects of life–like, say, blogging for free when you don’t have a job–the idea that you can grind it out day after day, then suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears–the storm is over. This, I think, is really good news. My personal squabbles with how everything is set up notwithstanding, life obviously doesn’t intend for anyone to stay down forever. Just when you’re ready to let go of hope, hope refuses to let go of you. Gripping you tightly it says, “All I ask is one more day.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

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