On the Road (Blog #59)

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Last week my friends Bonnie and Todd invited me to go with them today to Nashville to visit their family, look at real estate, and celebrate Bonnie’s birthday. Well, I’m usually a control freak, anything but spontaneous, so I hesitated. But I love Bonnie and Todd, I’ve never been to Nashville, and I’ve been trying to be more open to whatever life brings me. (Lately it’s brought me a crick in my neck, Days of Our Lives, and Friday nights with my parents.) So I said, “I’d love to go. Carpe ducking diem,” or at least that’s what the autocorrect on my phone said.

We hit the road this morning, so I’ve spent most the day in the backseat of Bonnie and Todd’s truck lusting at Bonnie’s bag of snacks, which included a box of cereal, a jar of peanut butter, and a bottle of tequila. I kept thinking, I knew I made the right decision.

Bonnie’s birthday is this coming Tuesday, so for a few hours, we jammed out to a birthday playlist she created on Spotify. On it were songs like Super Freak, Pretty Young Thing, and Billie Holiday’s Getting Some Fun out of Life. Bonnie said the playlist was all about “narcissism, woman power, and,” my favorite, “fuck this shit.” That’s a phrase Bonnie and I have used a lot the last year, since both of us want to move to a different city. (I want to move to Austin, she wants to move to Nashville.) But it’s also a phrase I’ve used a lot in therapy over the last few years, and sometimes I think it’s necessary when you find yourself in a difficult or unsatisfactory situation. I mean, if you’re stuck in a place–or with a person–that won’t let you grow, do (and say) whatever it takes to get you out of there.

Here’s a picture of Bonnie dancing in the car. I’m surprised we didn’t get pulled over for having too much fun.

When we got to Nashville, we spent the evening with Bonnie and Todd’s son Ben and his wife, Mallory. Mallory is super southern in the best way–friendly, hospitable–talks like sweet tea tastes. She said that she was obsessed with big hair, verandas, and china cabinets. I said that big hair should be pretty easy to come by with the humidity in the south, but she said that wasn’t the big hair she had in mind. Bonnie said veranda was just a fancy name for a porch. (I don’t think anyone said anything noteworthy about china cabinets, but maybe we could make that a goal for the week, which is how long we’ll be here.)

Before the evening was over, Bonnie and Todd’s other son, Tim, and two of Ben and Mallory’s friends joined us. Bonnie and I left for fast food for me and beer for everyone else, and the trip took about an hour because apparently the entire city of Nashville was at Walmart for Memorial Day Weekend. Anyway, by the time we got back, I was pretty much shot because I didn’t sleep much last night and the large cup of coffee I had from McDonald’s was doing a terrible job of propping me up. (It still is.)

But I was semi-alert for this moment, when Mallory passed her phone around to let everyone see how a local graffiti artist creatively defaced a neighborhood sign.

Tonight we are staying at Tim’s apartment. There’s a small bathroom downstairs, and you have to turn sideways to sit on the toilet. But Tim (or his roommate, Tim, which makes remembering names easy) must be pretty cool because there are glow-in-the-dark stars on the walls and ceiling, along with a picture of an astronaut, which also glows in the dark. (The picture is at the top of the blog, not glowing, so use your imagination for that part.)

Since I saw the astronaut in the bathroom about an hour ago (there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say), I’ve been thinking about how I’ve felt just a tad bit uncomfortable this evening. What I mean is that although I love everyone that I’ve met and everyone has been delightful today, this is my first time spending a week with this family, and everything is new to me. I’m not in my city, my house, with my family, in my car. I’m glad I’m here, it’s just unfamiliar.

When I first started talking to my therapist about moving to Austin, she said that moving to a new place isn’t a small thing. She said there would be a lot of loneliness, a lot of times I’d be uncomfortable. (She probably didn’t say that exact word because she says, “Uncomfortable is not an emotion.” Personally, I think it should be, but no one asked me.) Anyway, she didn’t say the trip wouldn’t be worth it, just that there would be an adjustment period. I’m sure she’s right. If I’m a little uncomfortable on a trip to Nashville with some dear friends, I’m sure I’ll be plenty more uncomfortable when I finally move out of Fort Smith.

But going back to that astronaut in Tim’s bathroom, I’m sure he felt the same way when he left the earth. It’s just what happens when you decide to do something unfamiliar, to strike out on a new adventure. Sure, you could stay at home where it’s familiar–you could stay comfortable–but anyone can stand on the earth and see the moon. Sure, it’s going to feel awkward if you decide you need a new perspective, and that applies to taking spontaneous vacations, moving to another city, or even starting therapy, just as it applies to astronauts breaking free from gravity. And maybe it takes a bottle of tequila or the right playlist on Spotify to make you say, “fuck this shit,” but before you know it, you’ll be on the road or up in the air, so far from where you started that you’ll wonder why anything ever held you back.

A Million Pieces of God (Blog #58)

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There’s a story in Eastern mythology that says when God first realized he was alive, he experienced pure joy. (What’s not to love about being alive?) However, he thought he might lose his joy or that someone might take it from him, so he experienced fear. (Sound familiar?) But then he remembered that he was the only one who existed, and the fear went away. (Phew!) But then he thought, Wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone? So after fear came desire, and out of that desire, God shattered himself into a million pieces and created the world.

Joseph Campbell, the famous mythologist, tells a version of this story. He says that fear and desire are the two basic emotions every human must deal with on his way back to God. They show up in every mythology and represent the world of duality and separation. In the Bible, this is depicted by the angels who guard the Garden of Eden. On one side of the gate is paradise, the place where God is all, and all is one. On the other side is duality, the home of up and down, good and bad, and you and me. If you want to get from duality to paradise, you have to go through the angels. In short, fear and desire keep us out of paradise. Fear and desire keep us separated.

Personally, I’ve spent a good part of my life in fear and desire, especially fear. I mean, your house burns down, your mom gets sick, and dad goes to prison, and that’ll pretty much divest you of the idea that life is good. The result, of course, has been a big feeling of separation, a big feeling of “something bad is going to happen.” That being said, I’ve worked really hard the last several years to get back to the Garden of Eden, or at least get closer to it. And although it hasn’t become a constant state of mind, I do think I’ve made a lot of progress. Life isn’t nearly as scary as it used to be.

The philosopher Alan Watts says that life is basically God–shattered into a million pieces–playing a big game of hide-and-seek with himself. Well, I really love this idea, and sometimes when good things happen, I like to think that God’s leaving clues, like, Hey, I’m over here (and over here, and over here).

So get this.

This evening my dance instructor friend Sheila and I danced at a private birthday party in Northwest Arkansas. A lovely lady named Carolyn was turning 90, and her son Jim hired Sheila and me to come dance to a live band because Carolyn loves dancing. Well, as it turned out, this was the kind of gig dancers live for. The party was at Jim’s home, and the place looked like it came out of a magazine. I’m pretty sure the chandelier in the entryway was bigger than my Honda Civic. And not to sound like a total redneck, but–Y’all, the downstairs bathroom was fancy. I mean, look at this sank.

The party itself was out by the pool, and the band was under a tent. Sheila and I danced together several times, and I even got to dance with the birthday girl, who told us that when her late husband first asked her for a date, she immediately said, “Can you jitterbug?” (I plan on stealing this dating requirement and think you should too.)

Here’s a picture of me and Carolyn. Thanks to her granddaughter (who said she was the favorite) for taking it.

As the evening continued, Sheila and I were invited to join Carolyn’s family and friends for dinner, drinks, and desserts. We looked at the four birthday cakes, thought about it for like two seconds, and said, “Okay, you talked us into it.”

On the surface, it was a wonderful evening. I haven’t worked a lot lately, so having a job was nice, and the atmosphere was amazing. I mean, the pool house would have passed for its own property, there was a playroom for the grandkids that looked like a castle, and I think the main staircase came out of Gone with the Wind. (I’d show you pictures, but I think that would border on creepy, and I’ve already posted a picture of these people’s freaking bathroom.) Plus, I found out that Jim used to play in a band that opened for Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and some guy named Bob Hope, so there were plenty of reasons to be impressed. (I kept hearing Mary Poppins say, “Close your mouth please, Marcus, we are not a codfish.”)

But below the surface, I couldn’t stop thinking about mythology and God playing hide-and-seek with himself, and here’s why. When I first walked outside and saw the pool, I noticed the fountain in the middle–three ladies–who are, of course, the three graces that represent charm, beauty, and creativity. (I should learn to zoom, but I think you get the idea.)

So the fountain set the mythological mood for me, and then it continued when Jim gave a present to his brother, whose birthday is close to Carolyn’s. I’ll let you see it for yourself, and then I’ll explain.

That’s right, it’s a statue with breasts and a penis. (I mean, is this a great family or what?) So everyone laughed about it being a fertility god, and I guess it’s a joke of some sort because Jim’s brother told me that it’s been passed around to several family members like a white elephant gift. I think everyone in the photo has owned it at one time or another. (For some reason, no one wants to keep it.)

Well, I think the statue is technically not a fertility god, but rather a hermaphrodite, which is a being with both male and female sex organs. (I recommend that you take my word for this instead of doing a Google search for fertility gods.) In Greek mythology, Hermaphroditus was the son of Hermes and Aphrodite and was a beautiful boy who fell in love with a water nymph that prayed to the gods to unite them forever. According to Carl Jung, hermaphrodites symbolize the union of opposites. Seen in light of the story told by Joseph Campbell, they represent the re-union of God, the return from duality back to the garden.

But wait, it gets better. You can’t see it in the picture of the swimming pool, but on the other side of the three graces is a large, triangle-shaped backyard. (Triangles represent the trinity, wisdom, and the divine power of the female). On one side, of course, is the pool. But on the other two sides are two creeks, and those creeks meet at the top of the yard as one creek. So as I walked out into the yard, I met yet another mythological image of the two becoming one. But what’s more, when I got to the top and realized which direction the water flowed, I saw that it was actually the one creek that became two–God shattering himself into a million pieces.

As I drove home tonight, I thought a lot about the mystical meaning of the party. I know for some people, it may sound like I’m reading a lot into it. But of all the places I could end up on a Saturday night dancing, I ended up at a place with the three graces, a hermaphrodite god, and, from my perspective, two creeks becoming one. Additionally, since I used to work for a wedding photographer, I’ve been to a lot of private parties, and tonight I ended up at a party with some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. And when you add all of that to the fact that I’ve been thinking a lot about mythology lately, trying to get away from the idea that “something bad is going to happen,” I just don’t think anything about tonight was an accident. Rather, I think God was bringing a few pieces of himself back together. Personally, I think he was saying, “Hey, I’m over here,” inviting me to return to the garden where something good is going to happen, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and–most importantly–we are one.

[My deepest gratitude to Sheila for inviting me tonight and to Jim and his wife, Jacqui, for all your kindness.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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One Single Loud Clap (Blog #57)

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In 2008 I started uploading dance videos to YouTube. At the time I wanted a way to keep track of what I knew and what I taught at my dance studio, and I also wanted my students to be able to review what they learned. So each week after class, we’d film a review, and I’d post it online. Nine years later, I’ve posted 1,101 videos, which have a combined total of 5,149,733 views. That last number really blows my mind, since oftentimes the classes I taught at the studio had no more than eight or ten people in them. Sometimes, there were only one or two.

Witness the power of the internet.

Over the years, there have been quite a few comments on the videos, and most of them have been positive. I’ve even had a number of emails and phone calls from total strangers–people in Tennessee, Florida, Europe–who’ve said they’ve learned a lot from the videos. However, for the longest time, it was the negative comments that stood out to me, like the person who ripped me a new one for starting rumba on a quick instead of a slow, or the dozen of people who were pissed off that I wrongly referred to Triple Two Step as Texas Two Step, or the guy who loved the videos but said that dying my hair blonde was “a mistake.”

Five years ago, bullshit like that would upset me for days. Now, thankfully, I’m able to take most of it in stride. For one thing, I have no idea who these people really are. Maybe they know what they’re talking about, maybe they don’t. But I finally decided that if you have nothing better to do than criticize the hair color of a total stranger who’s giving you dance lessons for free, that’s your problem–not mine.

This afternoon my friend Sydnie and I performed at a local nursing home for National Lindy Hop Day. I used to get really worked up and nervous about this sort of thing, but I had a great time today. Sydnie was on her way to another dance event, so she was with a friend of hers, another dancer. He took the above picture of us, which is why he’s not in it. (Thank you for the picture. I didn’t know if it’d be okay to use your name.)

Anyway, Sydnie’s friend told me that he started watching my dance videos on YouTube a few years before he started dancing, and then he continued to watch them once life slowed down and he was able to actually learn. He said the videos had been helpful on his journey, so I was kind of like a celebrity to him. (This sort of thing has happened a couple of other times, and it always makes my day. Still, I’m never sure how to properly react other than to say, “Thank you. That makes my day.” Perhaps if it happens again, I could add, “Thank you for not criticizing my hair.”)

Ironically, when I saw the picture of Sydnie and me, I didn’t like my hair, so I sent a message to my friend Bekah to see if she could cut it. Well, sometimes miracles happen, and she said to come right on over. When I got there, both her teenage sons were there too, and although I’m sure they were speaking English, I really didn’t understand much of what they were saying. (This is one way you know you’re getting older.) But at some point, Bekah’s older son, Christian, suddenly raised both his hands over his head and struck them together in one single loud clap. He explained that when he wants a high-five from a friend but he either doesn’t have one present or his friend won’t give him a high-five, he gives himself one.

Strange, I know, but I still think it’s gold.

(Here’s a picture of the haircut. This last year, for the first time in my entire life, I started parting my hair on my right side instead of my left. I’m not sure why. But Bekah added a hard part to the right just for emphasis. The lady in the picture is my friend Betty. She’s one of the friends I was with in 2008 when I went to Dubai and was told by a witch doctor that I had “weak brain.” She was in town tonight and invited me for dinner.)

As I look at the picture, I realize you can’t actually see my hair, but I promise this won’t be the last selfie I post, so don’t go anywhere. (This is called a cliffhanger. Sort of.)

After dinner I went to return some headphones to Best Buy, and while I was there, I got a notice on my phone that a friend had commented on the blog. Like almost every other comment I’ve received so far, it was positive, but my friend asked kindly that I not use the F word. Well, I responded and said (in the spirit of honesty) that probably wasn’t going to happen.

What I don’t want is for this specific blog post to become a conversation about whether or not cussing is okay. Obviously, for me it is, although my boundary about it is that if I’m in the grocery store, the doctor’s office, or a home where people don’t cuss, I don’t cuss. Clearly, other people have different boundaries regarding the words that come out of their mouths or keyboards. But this is my blog, and I pay the bills around here, and the result of that logic is obvious to anyone who reads a single one of my posts. (I think there’s only been one post completely void of a cuss word, and it just happened that way.)

When I first started therapy, my therapist told me that she didn’t care what I did the other twenty-three hours of the day, but she said, “During the one hour we’re together, we’re going to sit in truth, and we’re not going to judge ourselves.” So for the last three years, that’s exactly what’s happened. If at any point I’ve tried to bullshit myself or her about something, she’s called me out on it. And if at any point I’ve judged myself (which I have plenty of times), she’s called me out on that too.

So my goal with the blog is the same. Here, we’re going to sit in truth. More specifically, I’m going to sit in truth because I’m the only one currently in this room, sitting behind this keyboard. Secondly, I’m going to do my level best to not judge myself. And if I do judge myself at the beginning of a blog, I hope to use my writing as a way to work myself into a more compassionate place by the end of it.

What you see here is what you get.

Those two rules being established, what I can promise anyone who is interested and kind enough to spend your precious time here is that I’ll be as honest with you as I am with myself, as honest as I know how to be. I know there are plenty of other things you could be doing, and there are plenty of other places you could go for fake news. So I promise I won’t bullshit you and pretend to be someone I’m not. God, I did that for the longest time, and it sucks. It’s the worst feeling to pretend you’re straight when you’re not or, maybe worse, pretend you just don’t have a sexuality when everyone else around you is talking about the person they’re interested in, or in love with, or go home to when you go home alone. Likewise, it’s the worst feeling to pretend you’re “just fine” when you’re actually falling apart.

So that shit stops here.

What I would say to anyone on YouTube who doesn’t like the way I rumba or doesn’t like my hair, or to anyone who doesn’t like the F word, is that I understand. Honestly, sometimes I don’t like the way I rumba, and I wasn’t crazy about the blonde hair either, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat if the person I thought I was going to marry cheated on me and then later lied and told me he had cancer when he didn’t. And as for the F word, I remember (twenty years ago) when it used to bother me too. So I get it. We all have our opinions about how to act, and I don’t believe mine are the only ones that matter. But, again, I’m doing my best to not judge myself for failing to live up to a certain level of imagined perfection.

But back to being honest. What you see here is what you get. This is the most authentic I know how to be, and this is currently who I am–warts, cuss words, and all. Personally, I don’t like any sort of negative feedback. It never feels good to think I’ve disappointed someone, especially someone I care about. But as Abraham Lincoln said, you can’t please all of the people all of the time. And what I’ve learned about authenticity is that it doesn’t have to. Better that you’re true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied. And whereas I’m eternally grateful for every positive comment on YouTube and the blog (and there have been hundreds, thank you), I know that it has to be enough if only one person–the guy behind this keyboard–raises his hands above his head and strikes them together in one single loud clap.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

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On What Really Matters (Blog #56)

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This afternoon I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holiday weekend with her son and his family. I needed to come up for a quick business errand anyway, and apparently my aunt and I have similar bladder schedules, so the whole thing worked out perfectly. During the drive, my aunt talked the entire way, which she said was to help keep me awake, and then later apologized for. But honestly, I loved it. We’re always saying we’re going to go out for Mexican food and catch up, but–you know–life happens. So it was actually really good to be locked in the car together so that we could reconnect and, of course, gossip about the rest of the family.

When we got to my cousin’s house, life was in full swing. His three kids had their last day of school today, and everyone was celebrating in their new above-ground pool. I guess we arrived just in time because dinner was ready, and at least two of the three kids were running around the kitchen, asking for more of this and more of that. Seriously, I’ve never seen a loaf of white bread disappear so fast. It was like a magic trick.

After dinner, I ran my errand (taking a look at a potential remodel project for a friend) and came back. Well, when I returned, everyone, including my retired aunt whose had two knee surgeries, was in the backyard having a water gun fight.

So I thought, what the hell, put my phone away, and joined in.

Well, the great thing about little kids is that they run away from people who are bigger than they are. Even better, sometimes they drop their weapons, which means that in short order, the adults had all the big guns. (Insert evil, sinister laugh here.)

I guess their oldest son is pretty sharp because he went around the house for the water hose, but–thank God–he didn’t really know how to use it, so I managed to stay pretty dry.

When the water gun fight was over, I went inside to use the bathroom and noticed that my underwear was on inside out. (I went to college. How does this happen?) So I started to take off my shorts to get things turned around, and then I remembered I had shoes on and thought, Fuck it, this is too much work.

Before long, all the kids were camped out on the floor watching the cartoon movie Sing. So even though I had planned to get back on the road to Arkansas, when my cousin gave me popcorn with white cheddar sprinkles on top, I sat down on the couch instead. And when their dog hopped up on my lap and started going for my popcorn, she was so cute about it that I almost didn’t care.

Almost.

My cousin kept inviting me to stay the night, but I kept saying no, but thank you. I mean, I didn’t bring a change of clothes or a toothbrush or any anti-fungal spray for my armpits. (It’s gross, I know, but as the lady at the natural health food store said, “Isn’t the body fascinating?”) But as I watched the movie, I thought, I really don’t want to drive back AND THEN blog. And when I saw this, I decided to stay:

Yesterday my mom and I ran some errands–Walmart, Best Buy, home decor store–normal, boring stuff like that. But my mom said my dad doesn’t like doing that sort of thing, and she wanted my input on the home decor part. (Parents–if you have a gay son who can decorate, let him.) Anyway, before we left the house, Mom told me that she really enjoyed having me at home again. And even though nothing spectacular happened yesterday, I kept thinking how glad I was that I could be there for it. Obviously, one day my mom and I won’t be able to go to Hobby Lobby together.

When I picked my aunt up today, I went inside and spent some time looking at all the pictures on her wall. It’s the home my grandparents used to live in, so as I looked at the photos of them, the memories were that much stronger. You know, there’s always that part of you that wishes you’d had more time with your loved ones.

I guess that’s part of the reason I decided to stay at my cousin’s tonight–that, and the fact that he said he’d make waffles in the morning. Really, I know it’s the simplest of things–a family starting summer break by eating popcorn and watching a cartoon movie they’ve seen A HUNDRED TIMES THIS WEEK. But with my cousin in Oklahoma and my sister and her kids in New Mexico, I know I’ve missed a lot of water fights already, so I think sometimes the simplest memories are the best ones. In the end, it’s not the things you do, it’s who (or whom, rather) you do them with.

So now the house is quiet, and I’m in the oldest kid’s room. Next to the bed is a lamp that looks like a pirate ship, and the bedspread looks like the ocean, and it has an octopus on it. For some reason, I keep seeing octopi everywhere I go. I even had a dream about one. I haven’t figured out what it means exactly, but I do know those creatures represent creativity, mystery, and regeneration, so that seems to fit my life right now. Also, they represent flexibility, a quality I don’t always possess. I mean, normally I’d insist on driving home in the middle of the night just so I could have clean underwear in the morning. But in this moment I’m here with people I love–my family–and I’m thinking, Hell, tomorrow I can just turn my underwear right side out, and it will be almost the same thing. I mean, what’s really important here?

Well, I think the answer is obvious.

[Thanks to my cousin Don and his wife, Rachel, for hosting me in your lovely home. I’m so glad I stayed. Thanks, Rachel, for the photos of the water gun fight. Also, bring on those waffles.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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Finding True North (Blog #55)

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This evening I went for a walk and ran into my friend Ralph. Ralph’s a local artist, and his work is all over Fort Smith. If you live here, you’ve probably seen it. The huge mural at the entrance of Mercy Hospital–that’s Ralph’s work. The signs for St. Luke’s Lutheran Church and Hannah Oil and Gas–those are Ralph’s work. The sundial on the campus of the University of Arkansas Fort Smith–again–Ralph’s work, as are the marble floor depicting the inner workings of a motor in the Baldor Building and the glass sculptures that hang from the ceiling in the Health Sciences Building. The list goes on.

Six years ago, when I first started working for Do South Magazine in Fort Smith and was published for the very first time, my first article was about Ralph. He’s one of those people who never fails to inspire. He’s worked in the creative arts for so long, he’s become this fountain of knowledge and ideas that never seems to stop flowing. Plus, he has a terrific sense of humor and looks like Santa Claus. What’s not to love? Lucky for me, he lives right around the corner from my parents.

As Ralph and I were catching up tonight, I told him that I was in a transitional period in my life. He said that sometimes you have to “get off the merry-go-round,” step back, and take another look at things. I told him I thought that was the perfect phrase, get off the merry-go-round. Ralph said, “Yeah, I mean, we’re all on one.” (Right?) He said that as an artist, it’s easy to get stuck, so you have to seek out new perspectives, maybe take the painting (or life) you’re working on and turn it upside down.

I told Ralph that I recently made a special trip to the university campus to look at the sundial he made. Sundials, and the fact that most of them have a saying related to time on them, are talked about in the S-Town Podcast, so I wanted to check one out. Ralph said that although several things on the campus faced magnetic north, the sundial was the only thing that faced true north. (I’m not ashamed to say that I just had to Google the difference. And if you don’t know either, true north refers to the imaginary line that stretches into the sky and represents the earth’s axis, that center the earth revolves around. Magnetic north is the thing your compass points to.) Ralph said that in order for sundials to work, they have to face true north, not magnetic north. He also said that the sundial at the university weighs six thousand pounds and has a time capsule inside of it.

How cool is that?

I know that things haven’t always been easy for Ralph. Making a living as an artist in Fort Smith, Arkansas, is, I’m sure, challenging at times. But somehow Ralph has managed to do something he loves and make it work, and the community is better and more beautiful because of it. Ralph said that sometimes you wonder if people notice, but they do. And even when they don’t, I think, the true artist continues.

Ralph said that when the day’s over, you want to be able to say to yourself, “Today was a good day. I did something that brought me joy.” So it’s worth it, he said, to find your true north.

As Ralph and I said goodbye and I went back to my walk, I started thinking about how cool it was to run into him, about the fact that it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to the bathroom one more time before I left the house. And it’s not like I was having a terrible day and Ralph turned it around, but sometimes my therapist says that the universe sends us signals, little incidents that let us know we’re on the right path. Personally, I know that lately it’s felt like I’m walking around blindfolded, so it helps me to think of happy accidents like running into Ralph as God’s way of saying, “You’re getting warmer. Keep doing what you love.”

We all have inner wisdom. We all have our true north.

There’s a principle in talk therapy that a therapist’s job isn’t necessarily to dole out advice. Rather, they provide a quiet and safe place for the client to talk and, maybe for the first time, actually hear themselves. I guess the idea is that we all have inner wisdom. We all know what’s best for us. We all have our true north. But oftentimes our lives are so hectic, so chaotic, and so loud, that we can’t hear ourselves, and it’s easy to step off the path. But therapy can be a way to return, a step in the right direction. Likewise, so can meditation or art, anything that invites getting still, stepping back, and seeing things in a new way.

Personally, I think my therapist has been like a sundial for me. When things have been really hard, when I’ve called her on the phone crying, she’s said, “I’m your rock.” And it’s not that she’s perfect. She’d be the first to say she’s not. But, like a sundial, she’s lined up and she’s solid. She’s not going anywhere. And whereas she’s not going to get caught up in my drama, she is going to show compassion, and she is going to reflect the truth back to me.

Most of this evening, I’ve been thinking that my talk with Ralph was mostly about creativity, about how I recently got off the merry-go-round that’s been my life for over ten years and now I’m taking a new look at things. But as I think about it in this moment, I think I started getting off the merry-go-round a few years ago when I started therapy. Since then, there’s been consistently less drama in my life, and my perspective has changed dramatically. Truly, like one of Ralph’s paintings, my life has been turned upside down in the best way. Everything looks different than it did before.

Of course, my therapist gets a ton of the credit, but I think my progress has been largely the result of becoming more authentic. When you’re trying to be authentic, the path you’re on is the right one because being authentic is the path. Being authentic is true north. Line yourself up with that. And sure, there will be times when the sun shines brightly upon your face, and others when the seasons will change and you’ll be left in the shadows. But guaranteed, you’ll be facing the right direction, and that’s what matters. And there you will stand off the merry-go-round–like a sundial that is steady and strong–giving no more thought to a sun’s setting than to its rising. After all, that is the way of all time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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