Better Together (Blog #1096!)

2 Comments March 30, 2020 CoCo

Dear Marcus,

It’s been a bumpy ride. Six years ago two days from now we were passed out drunk and naked, hugging a toilet seat, having just broken up with the first and only person we’ve ever thought we were going to marry. It wasn’t pretty. And boy were we wrong about him. (Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.) Anyway, it was touch and go there for a while. We didn’t know where we were going to live, how we were going to pay the rent, or how we were going to heal That Which Was Broken. We were so confused. Thankfully, only one week before all of this occurred we had our first therapy session and met our guardian angel. (Who knew angels could wear Kesha T-shirts and curse like sailors?) Which just goes to show you that Maria in The Sound of Music was right. When the lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.

Granted, there were some rough days, some hole-in-our chest moments when nothing made sense. Now we know this was simply The Mystery, The Necessary Mystery. Said another way, it was The Healing. Which is, of course, crooked as a dog’s hind leg, anything but fun, and, well, just plain gross at times. For us it meant a lot of time in therapy, completely rewiring the way we thought, getting some damn boundaries, and changing or saying goodbye to oh-so-many relationships. Also, and I’m sorry about this, it meant a lot of empty pockets.

I’ll explain.

Despite the fact that you’d done a lot of internal work three-and-a-half years ago, the powers that be weren’t quite satisfied. As it turns out, they demand the best. In other words, they want the best for us. So they did what they often do when someone they care about isn’t living up to their full potential. They make them absolutely miserable. In your case this misery pushed you to close your dance studio, sell most of your earthly possessions, and move from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fayetteville, Arkansas, with the intention of moving to Austin, Texas, where many people (who haven’t checked your Facebook page in over three years) still think you are. Even though you never went. Indeed, that was your plan. But not you-know-who’s plan, which is why it didn’t work out. (He always gets his way.) This is why it was a good thing you didn’t have more money than you did. Because–let’s face it–if you’d had the money you would have gone “come hell or high water” and missed out on The Opportunity.

Because you’re so damn stubborn.

Also, don’t worry. Stubbornness is a good thing. Because life isn’t for sissies. It just means that you don’t always have the most patience. Like someone recently told you, “You’re happy to give God the reigns, but if he hasn’t done anything with them in ten minutes you take them back.”

(Correct.)

Getting back to your move to Fayetteville, that obviously didn’t work out either, and I know that few adult men would be thrilled about moving back in with their parents. Which you had to do. But again, this was by design. As you’ve told a number of people these last three years, it’s given you a chance to mend, heal, and grow relationships you couldn’t have otherwise. It’s given you a chance to be understanding. And to be understood. And whereas it’s tempting to think you’ve somehow missed out on life because you haven’t spent the last three years making a shitpot full of money or “being like everybody else,” the things you’ve busied yourself about are the things that really matter and make life WORTH living. The things that matter to your soul and the things that make you fully human.

So never regret getting to know me.

Please.

It’s worth every minute.

I promise.

Speaking of the last few years and specifically what you’ve done with and through this blog, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I realize it hasn’t set the world, or even the internet, on fire, but it has set us on fire. Again, this is what matters. For us, this has been the royal road, the way, The Path. The Path out of suffering. The Path back home. Sure, you didn’t have any idea what you were getting yourself into when you sat down three years ago tomorrow and wrote your first post, but I did. Additionally, through both your best days and your most challenging days, your–what’s the phrase you use?–that-makes-my-ass-want-buttermilk kind of days, I’ve been cheering you on and nudging you forward. Darling, don’t give up. Don’t you dare give up. I’m waiting for you.

I know this hasn’t been easy. I also know that you’re not quite sure where to go from here. There’s a part of you that wants to hang on to this project that’s been so good for us. And still there’s another part that’s so effing ready to let go, so excited to see what’s next that you can hardly wait to hit Publish and move on. Allow all your feelings, but lean into this second part. Get excited. You’ve worked your ass off here, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Congratulations! Celebrate. Your life’s not over, it’s only just beginning. What’s more, although I know you often think and believe that you try, try, try and get nowhere, all your hard work has actually paid off. It continues to pay off. You read all those damn books about healing, and now you’re one of those people those books talk about. Yes, we know things aren’t perfect, but you’re headed in the right direction. So keep going. And just know that you’re already a success story.

You know those magical days when you wake up and you can see it, feel it, almost taste it? Those days when you absolutely know that you’re exactly where you need to be, learning and doing what you need to be learning and doing? Those days when you know nothing is an accident, that the people who are in your life, all those wonderful friends, teachers, and mentors, were sent to you for a reason? That you were sent to each other for a reason? Those days when you can feel in your bones that nothing is random? Well, keep thinking these things, keep believing these things. You’ll doubt at times, of course, since that’s what the mind does here on planet earth. But know that I never do. My faith in you and The Way of It is rock solid.

My faith in us is rock solid.

So keep your chin up.

You know that Joseph Campbell fella you’re so madly in love with? He said, “Schopenhauer said that when you go through life, this character appears, that character appears, and it all seems accidental at the time it is happening. Then when you get on in your sixties or seventies and look back, your life looks like a well-planned novel with a coherent theme. Things have happened, you realize, in an appropriate way. Incidents that seemed to be accidental, pure chance, turn out to be major elements in the structuring of this novel. Schopenhauer says, ‘Who wrote the novel? You did.'” I couldn’t agree more. Things have happened in an appropriate way. But it’s not that you wrote the novel, it’s that I did. We did. So from here on out, just know that you have a partner in all this.

No one is alone, and that includes you.

Going forward, I’m not discouraging you from planning. I know you like to do that. And yet, as you’ve come to see time and time again, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. What’s more, sometimes what you think are the worst things turn out to be the best things. Because they put us on the path back to ourselves. Really, this is the only path there is. The only game in town, it’s the pearl of great value, the true buried treasure, the kingdom of heaven. So it’s worth all the time, pain, and heartache and whatever you have to give up in order to find it. It’s worth all The Hard Work, all the icky emotions and past experiences you have to dig through and sort out, and all the judgment you have to endure from others and yourself. Because when it’s all said and done, what profits a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul?

All this to say, Marcus, please stay open to what’s coming down the pike. Please stay open to, and expect, miracles. They happen. And are kind of God’s thing. Also, please remember the he/she/it is rather fond of you. Just like I’m rather fond of you. I mean, good lord, you’re a knockout, you’re smart as whip and have a killer personality and sense of humor (although I know your family may disagree, but, in the words of your father, they have to live with you), and you have a good rear end to boot. What’s not to love? Said another way, what more do you want?

(Some cash would be nice.)

Relax, already. It’s coming. We’re in the middle of a recession.

But seriously, you’ve been given everything you need to succeed. And whereas this has always been the case, now that you’ve walked the royal road, you know it. Deep down. What’s more, now that you’ve come to know yourself, things are going to get easier. The next half of your life is going to look so much different than the first half. So much better. Not that you’ll never face another challenge again–you certainly will–but you’ll handle things better. With more grace. There will be a steadiness about you that you didn’t have before, a confidence, an internal anchor. A part of you that knows that, come what may, I have what it takes and am going to be all right. And just know that if the world ever gets to be too much, you can always reach out and find me. You can sit down at this keyboard ANY TIME YOU’D LIKE, and we can fix whatever it is together. Or just call my name, and I’ll come running.

That is if I don’t call you first. Which, honestly, I probably will. Because, Marcus Anderson Coker, I’m not done with you yet. Plus, I’ve always called you first, since it’s kind of my job to pursue you. You see, Darling, I just can’t stand to be without you. Without us. We are, after all, better together than we are apart. Surely by now you agree.

With all my love,

Your heart (your sweet heart)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

You can’t play small forever.

Leave the Raft Behind (Blog #1087)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

On Pause (Blog #1084)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

Just as there’s day and night literally, there’s also day and night emotionally. Like the sun, one minute we’re up, the next minute we’re down. Our perspectives change constantly. There’s nothing wrong with this. The constellations get turned around once a day, so why can’t you and I? Under heaven, there’s room enough for everything–the sun, the moon and stars, and all our emotions. Yes, the universe–our home–is large enough to hold every bit of us.

On Creation (Blog #1069)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

We don’t get to boss life around.

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

1 Comment February 12, 2020 CoCo

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)

Normal people don’t walk on water.

Worth It (Blog #1000!)

1 Comment December 25, 2019 CoCo

Phew. Here we are. Blog #1000. We made it. I made it. Two years, eight months, and twenty-six days ago I began this journey honestly not knowing what I was doing or where I was going. And whereas I’m not sure I know now (does anyone ever know what they’re doing or where they’re going?), I’m nonetheless here with–as of yesterday–892,141 words more than I started with. Granted, not every word or every post has been brilliant. How could it be? And yet all together these words and posts have provided a container, a structure in which something brilliant has happened.

To be clear, I’m not referring to this body of work, this blog, as brilliant. Granted, I’m proud of it, but more and more I don’t have to label it. Recently I’ve watched a couple documentaries about The Sphinx, and one scholar dates it as old as 36,000 years. My point being that over the centuries countless numbers of people have looked upon this sculpture and issued their opinions about it. It’s magnificent, it’s glorious, it’s weird, it’s crap. Whatever. I’m sure those who built it had their thoughts about it too. It’s not good enough; we should probably redo that nose. Meanwhile, the creation itself has existed as it is, quietly knowing that our opinions are powerless to change art. Art, however, is more than capable of changing us if we let it.

This is the brilliant thing I’m referring to, the fact that somewhere in the midst of all these words and posts a glorious, necessary, and humbling transformation has taken place–mine. Now, I know this is a bold claim–look at me, I’m different!–but I’m just stating facts (and I’m not ASKING anyone to look). Even if I were, I could write until I’m blue in the face and not be able to PROVE to another soul that my soul is any different today than it was 1,000 days ago. But it is. Specifically, it has more of a voice in my decisions, my moods, and my relationships. Because I’m more in touch with it. THAT’S what this vessel has provided–a place for me to meet myself. Time and time again it’s given me a space–a virtual therapy office if you will–for me to be my own listening ear, my own compassionate shoulder to cry on, my own caring counselor.

For those of you who have in any way watched, supported, or shared this space and this journey of mine, I am deeply grateful. Truly the path to one’s self is often and by definition a lonely path, and yet–paradoxically–we never walk it completely alone. More and more I’m convinced: both here and “elsewhere,” we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Witnesses who happily cheer us on.

Transformation requires more than a charge card.

Perhaps one of the reasons the path to one’s self (the journey of personal growth, the way of spirituality, the royal road) is lonely is because so much of it is internal (where you are, where God is, and where other people aren’t) and not external (where the world is, where people are, and where stuff is). If it were external, it’d be easy to prove to other people how you’ve changed or transformed. This is how most of the world operates. We get a new car, house, or haircut and think that changes US. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Despite what the advertisers and marketers want us to think, it’s not that easy. Transformation requires more than a charge card. At best our outward changes affect others’ PERCEPTION of us, and–as you know, dear reader–the perception of others is a fickle mistress. One day someone approves of us and what we do, wear, and say, and the next day they don’t.

Where’d their approval go? we think.

Well, in the words of the warden in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, it “up and vanished like a fart in the wind.”

Tonight I concluded Christmas at a dear friend’s house, where we ate dinner, toasted each other, and exchanged gifts and stories. Y’all, more and more I believe that a good story is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone, especially if it makes them laugh, comforts their heart, or challenges them to think in a new way. Well, my friend gave me such a gift tonight. They said they once hosted a large fundraiser, and the band for the event showed up–what’s the phrase?–high as a damn kite. And whereas most the musicians managed fine, the bass player either accidentally or on-purpose kept playing DIFFERENT songs than the rest of the band.

“I think he just didn’t give a shit,” my friend said.

Thankfully, the man (the genius) running the sound board turned off the bass player’s microphone, and no one in the audience ever knew the guy was completely stewed. My friend only knew because the sound technician put a pair of earphones on their head and said, “Hey, get this shit.”

Y’all, this is what this journey I’ve been discussing is about–turning DOWN the external voices in your life and turning UP the internal ones. In the last 1,000 days I’ve referred to these voices as your soul, your spirit, your highest self, your intuition, your guidance, your inner wisdom, your angels, God, the universe, the gods, and–I could go on. And whereas I don’t see all these terms as exactly the same, my point is–I just don’t think we’re alone here. Recently I had a friend comment, “I don’t believe in gods.” Fine. It has never been nor will it ever be my intention on this blog to change anyone else’s opinion about anything, least of all the higher mechanics of the cosmos. Changing someone else is NEVER the point of this work. Again and again and all day long until the cows come home, the point is changing oneself.

Transforming oneself.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means exactly that–that the forces we read about aren’t outside but inside us, that if you can’t read about Sisyphus eternally rolling a giant rock up a mountain or Jesus hanging on the cross and put YOURSELF there and thus relate the story to YOUR life, you’ve missed the point. (Every story is about you. What is in all is in one. What is in one is in all.) People externalize their gods, their beliefs. They say, “Jesus loves the little children. God hates fags.” No, they don’t. YOU do. How do I know? You’re the one who said it; you’re the one who did it. This is what personal responsibility and accountability are all about–realizing that you no longer get to blame someone else (God, your neighbor, or a book) for YOUR actions.

This sucks, I know.

There’s an idea in The Bible about not building your house upon the sandy land but rather building your house upon the rock, where, as a children’s song says, “the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know.” And whereas I do NOT intend this as preaching or evangelizing, I DO intend it as SYMBOLIZING.

I’ll explain.

Recently I’ve been obsessed with a song by Maren Morris called “The Bones.” It’s my flavor of the week. In essence the song is about a couple’s relationship, the idea being that when two people have a home with a solid foundation they can weather any storm. Getting back to the idea of symbolizing or being able to relate any story, mythology, or wisdom to one’s self, my thought has been that if I–if YOU–have a solid internal foundation, we can confidently navigate the trials and tribulations of life. This is the path I keep talking about, the path therapy and this blog have been such a huge part of for me, the building of an unshakable inner base. Y’all, I wish I could tell you that the right therapist, doctor, doctrine, or god can and will protect you from life’s hurts and heartaches, but alas, this is simply not the case. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is selling you snake oil. What is true, however, is that if you’ve done the inner work and have your priorities straight, you can best any challenge. Granted, life may bring you to your knees (it will), but as Morris says, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”

If the last thousand days have taught me anything, it’s that any time you spend building a solid foundation or working on your interior structure is time well spent. Every minute and every hour, as uncomfortable as it may be, is gold. (Did I forget to mention that being born again is unpleasant? Well, it is. Ask any screaming baby.) Likewise, any time you spend searching for, sharing, or living the truth will set you free. Not just sort of, but really. Granted, the truth may turn your world upside down (it will). Things may get worse before they get better (they will). But if a house doesn’t already POSSESS a solid foundation or structure, isn’t it best to tear it down and start from scratch in order to have something stable, something that will last? Don’t you want something real? I’ve spent almost six years in therapy, nearly three years blogging every day, and countless hours self-improving, and I’m telling you–it’s exhausting. But I’m talking about you here. Aren’t you worth all the effort?