On Rearranging Yourself (Blog #1045)

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I spent most of today working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. And whereas I didn’t finish, I did make good progress. Indeed, this afternoon I worked for several hours (at which point I took the picture below), and this evening I worked for a couple more. Ugh. When I get in puzzle-solving mode I lose all track of time. I skip meals, put off going to the bathroom, and delay blogging. I think, Just one more piece. Just one more section. Last year I completed a different 1,000 piece puzzle only to realize it was missing a piece. (So it was really a 999 piece puzzle.) Anyway, now whenever I can’t find a piece I convince myself it doesn’t exist. Then when I finally find it after looking “just one more time,” it’s the sweetest relief.

Earlier this week I bought a painting for four dollars (and a frame for the painting for eight), so this evening I set out to rearrange my “art wall” in order to accommodate it. And whereas I thought this would be a simple task, alas, it was not. Y’all, I spent almost two hours playing Tetris with my framed art, photos, and brooches, the main problem being that once I put the new painting above my bed I didn’t have a good spot for the old art that used to be there. FINALLY, after much frustration and upset, I decided to put the old art in my bathroom (above the toilet). After that, things were relatively simple. Well wait. Now that I think about it, they weren’t. Before it was all said and done, I hung or rehung a total of eleven framed pieces (two in my bathroom, nine in my bedroom).

Only four of the pieces on my “art wall” are in the same location they used to be.

Let’s hear it for trying new things.

I’ve said before that when you change one thing you change everything (and this is why we often avoid change), and this is what I mean. Everything’s connected. You buy one new painting, and it inevitably pushes your other ones around. Likewise, you get one new belief (like, I’m worthy of being treated well), and it can seriously upset your applecart. I mean, it sounds good to say that you deserve to be respected, but if you really believe that, what are you gonna do the next time someone (including you) disrespects you? Because this is where the rubber meets the road, where you have to speak up for yourself, have a hard conversation, or, if necessary, walk away.

Again, this is why most of us don’t buy new pieces of art, buy new pieces of art being a euphemism for change our beliefs. It’s not that we don’t like the idea of something new, fresh, and beautiful (I’m patient, I’m kind, I stand up for myself), it’s just that the rearranging we have to do in order to accommodate something new, fresh, and beautiful is seriously a lot of effort and often involves fallout.

Take money, for instance. Most anyone, myself included, would tell you that they’d LOVE to have more money. And yet most of us aren’t willing to do what it takes to have it. And no, I’m not just talking about getting a side-hustle. I’m talking about really getting honest about your relationship with money. For me this has looked and continues to look like digging into where, when, and how my beliefs about money started, realizing that despite the fact that I give myself a lot of crap about not being more “successful” in terms of worldly wealth, most if not all of the money concepts I have, for better or for worse, were handed down to me (by family, church, school, and society).

In terms of money, for decades I’ve had dreams about a particular person that I’ve always considered wealthy and successful. And whereas for years this person appeared in my dreams as far off or unapproachable, since starting therapy and unpacking my issues around money with my therapist, that’s changed. For instance, I’ve had dreams in which this person’s house has been for sale or I’ve been moving into their house, one possible interpretation being that their lifestyle is AVAILABLE to me. Last night I dreamed that, instead of me looking up to this person, THEY were looking up to me, literally serving me.

Keep working on the puzzle that is you.

As I see it, these dreams and especially last night’s dream mean that my beliefs about money are changing from “I’m intimidated” to “I”m in charge.” Better said, since this dream-person is just a part of my consciousness (and completely separate from the actual person), these dreams mean that my relationship with myself is changing. Earlier this evening I meditated on money (and relationships and all the things), and I realized that I’m accustomed to loss. Not that I’m used to always losing things or having people leave me, but it’s a FAMILIAR feeling. You might say it’s a comfortable one, albeit not a healthy or accurate one. All this to say that this is The Hard Work, the willingness to take an honest look at the beliefs that run your life and, if needed, change them by changing yourself. By rearranging yourself. This, of course, means carrying yourself differently, more confidently, and this is a scary and uncomfortable thing to do. Do it anyway. Keep working on the puzzle that is you until all your pieces fit.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

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This Is Your Spiritual Journey (Blog #1035)

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A few months ago I started a new 1,000-piece puzzle. And whereas I got most of the border completed, the puzzle has honestly sat unloved and unattended to ever since. Until today. This afternoon I plopped my read end down on our futon, hunched over our coffee table, blew the dust off the puzzle box, and went to work. For five solid hours I labored, putting the border back together (someone–my father–recently knocked the puzzle off the table), hunting for pieces with similar colors, looking for perfect matches. Aren’t we all looking for perfect matches?

Now, did I get finished? Hell no. But I certainly made progress.

This evening I helped a friend publish their business’s website. Over a month ago we designed the site but got stuck because we ended up renaming their business during the design process. Well, this meant we needed, or at least wanted to, pick out a new .com address, and that’s always a pain in the butt because most the good ones are taken (.com names, not butts). For example, marcuscoker.com is taken (by me), so if you wanted a website named marcuscoker.com, you’d just have to think of something else. Maybe marcuscoker01.com or marcuscocker.com, which is what all the telemarketers call me. (Of course, it’d be weird for YOU, someone who’s NOT named Marcus Coker, to have a site named after ME, someone who is.) Anyway, my friend and I got together tonight to brainstorm website names, and for over an hour we were like, “No, that’s not it. Uh, close, but no cigar. Crap, what are we gonna do?”

Finally, my friend suggested something, and we were both like, “Yeah, that’s it. I really like that.” Then we checked to make sure the domain name was available, and it was. So they bought it. Then, after a good while chatting with tech support, we got the site published. Are there still changes to be made and work to be done? Sure.

But we made a lot of progress.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about endings and beginnings, I guess because this blog will be ending soon (two months from tomorrow will be my last consecutive post), and another project–I’m guessing–will begin. Yes, something else will begin. Something always does. Indeed, I already have a few projects up my sleeve. I just don’t know which one will call mostly loudly for my attention. That’s the deal with creative endeavors. More often than not, you don’t tell them what’s up, they tell you what’s up. For example, I’ve made it a practice to sit down and write every day, and–yes–I have certain parameters I work within. (Like, I talk about me and my therapist. I don’t talk about celebrity gossip or cornbread recipes.) But within these parameters, what I write about is usually dictated TO ME.

What I mean is that I have an internal creative compass that points me in this or that direction, tells me when I’m on or off center. It says, “No, that’s not it. Start again. Delete that paragraph.” It says, “That’s it, you’re done. Don’t you dare write another word.” As strange as this process may sound, it’s not. We all know when a night out with our friends is over, or when a relationship is. We don’t even have to say we’re done (because the other person knows too), we can just start packing up our things. More and more, I can’t advise listening to this inner wisdom–your inner wisdom–enough. In essence, this IS your spiritual journey, learning to follow your own divine compass. That still, small voice that tells you, “Go here, don’t go there. Do this, don’t do that.” The one that tells you when pieces fit, when pieces don’t. The one that tells you when something’s a perfect match or not.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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On Starting to Believe (Blog #755)

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Today’s (and some of yesterday’s) thoughts–

1. On families

Recently my mom came into my room while I was lying on my bed, like I am now. “Wow,” she said. “You look so much like my dad.” (Grandpa died nearly twenty years ago.) Then she just stood there for a minute, taking it in, I guess. And whereas it was slightly weird for me in the moment to be compared to someone else, later I felt really proud. Not that he didn’t have his problems, but Grandpa was a good man, so I’m glad to look like him. I know my mom loved him a lot. Anyway, it’s cool to think about how our ancestors not only give us life but are also still with us in some way, how they leave their mark, both physically and emotionally. More and more, I’m grateful for this unseen connection.

2. On being famous

Yesterday I bought a copy of the spring issue of Bass Angler Magazine. This is something I never thought I’d do ever–buy a fishing magazine–but I did because get this shit. Remember last fall when I traveled to the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee for a travel writing job? Well, my friend and fellow journalist Jill was there for the same reason, and she ended up writing an article for Bass Angler about the area and places a person could go fishing–and used three photos with me in them!

So I’m pretty much famous now.

3. On fine tuning

Last night and this morning I made more progress on the puzzle I’ve been working on. Last night one of the sections I worked on was all water–just different shades of blue and green. At first I thought, I’ll never get this. All the pieces look the same. But then as I took a closer look, I could distinguish several differences in the shading and shadows. Today after I took the below picture I noticed one of the pieces I’d connected didn’t go where I put it. I thought, Wait a damn minute. You don’t belong there.

This made me think of writing, the way once I get a general idea of what’s going on with a piece I’m working on, then I can tweak and fine tune it. Likewise, it made me think of my relationships and how I interact in the world. This afternoon I read a book that said we’re allowed to play around with our emotions and how we respond to and act on them. So often we get stuck in patterns of behavior–the big picture–we think, this is who I am–but it’s not like we’re set in stone. We can take a closer look at thing, maybe see something we didn’t see before. We can say, No wait, this doesn’t fit here, in this situation.

That is to say, we can change.

4. On bodies

Speaking of being set in stone, today I listened to an interview with David Berceli about how the body responds to trauma. I’ve mentioned David’s work before, here. In today’s interview, David said that our bodies are designed to survive, and that if we’re somehow threatened and can’t fight or flee, we’ll otherwise freeze. That is, our bodies will physically contract, as if into a ball. This applies whether someone throws a rock at us or we’re in a car accident. The good news is that this is how our bodies shield us from harm. The bad news is that sometimes they stay contracted even after a particular threat or trauma is over. Think of any tight muscles you may have in your hips or neck. It’s not that your body can’t relax, it’s just that it hasn’t gotten the message that it’s okay to yet.

One of my takeaways from this interview is that our bodies are always trying to protect us. So often I get frustrated with my tight hips and shoulders, but it helps to think that perhaps they’re tight because my body is trying to help me rather than hurt me. At least at one time, this was the best my body could do. And this is a message I keep getting over and over again, that our bodies are on our side. And whereas I’ve been slow to come around to this idea–it’s much easier to think that my body is the exception to the rule–I’m starting to believe it, that not only is my body on my side, but that it’s also smart enough to heal itself, to heal us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Rising Again (Blog #749)

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Last night I dreamed that I was at a funeral, sopping wet. I’d just gone for a dip in a lake. Anyway, the funeral was upstairs, and every now and then I’d go downstairs, to a concrete, bunker-like basement where my therapist was. My intent was to change there. Since my therapist had marked one room as just hers (it had her name on it), I used the other rooms. Once while I was in the basement, I did some writing. Another time I recharged my laptop. Then I yelled at my therapist’s secretary, who was offended that I didn’t want to sleep with her.

Come on, lady, I’m gay.

This afternoon I went to the library to sync my laptop files with my online files. I can do this at home with my hotspot, but it eats up my phone data and takes forever. But since the internet at the library is super fast, I can get it done there in a jiffy. Which I did. This satisfied my inner perfectionist, who likes all my files arranged just so, safe and secure.

Later, at home, I combed through some of the digital (mostly non-fiction) books I have on my laptop and got overwhelmed because there are so many I haven’t read. It felt like I needed to read them all, like, yesterday. Finally I thought, Fuck reading, closed my laptop, and went to the gym. There I processed my need to be constantly reading and learning and was able to find compassion for that part of me that thinks it isn’t enough, doesn’t know enough. (I also did a funny-looking exercise for my neck that involved holding an inflated ball against the wall with my head. See above photo.) Then I talked to the part of me that always pushing me to learn–my inner student–and asked it to back off. “I love learning,” I said, “but you’ve become a slave driver. Give us a break, will ya?” It said it would.

We’ll see what happens.

My “not enough” part said sometimes it’d rather put together a puzzle than read a book, so when I got home from the gym, that’s what I did. Well, after dinner. But here’s a picture of my puzzle progress. Personally, I think it’s coming along nicely.

Now it’s after midnight, and I’m doing laundry. I need to keep this short because I didn’t get much sleep last night–I was up until six in the morning (because of the full moon?)–and I’m tired. Plus, I have to get up early tomorrow. Yuck. I’m not looking forward to it. Oh well, Jesus had to get up early on Easter weekend, so if it was good enough for him, it might as well be good enough for me. At the very least, I probably shouldn’t bitch about it, especially considering the fact that tomorrow I’ll be rising out of a waterbed and not a grave.

But I digress.

In terms of last night’s dream, I think it’s a reminder about balance. I’ll explain. Personally, I associate funerals–at least historically–as a place where I can emote. That is, for the longest time they were one of the few places I could cry. (Now I can cry anywhere.) So I think they represent that part of my life where I’m now paying the back taxes my therapist says I owe with respect to grieving. And all the better that I was sopping wet in the dream, since water represents the unconscious. Like, things are coming up.

As for the fact that I was going down to the bunker-like basement to write and recharge, I think this represents my need to rest (and that this is a safe and secure time in my life for me to do so). A part of me would love to emote all at once and get it over with–just like part of me would like to be reading or learning all the damn time–but another part knows I need to slow down and re-juice my batteries. Balance. And whereas I haven’t quite figured out the door my therapist marked as hers, I’m guessing it has something to do with healthy boundaries. Or perhaps that there’s a part of my subconscious (my basement) that I’m not yet ready to go into and “change.”

Patience, my dear.

Lastly, there was the secretary who wanted to sleep with me. The one I yelled at. This probably just represents real life. Not that my therapist’s secretary wants to sleep with me (besides, it wasn’t my therapist’s real secretary in the dream), but over the years there have been A NUMBER of ladies who’ve wanted more from me than I could give them. Because I’m gay. Like, not just a little bit, but a lot. Like, it’s never changing. Even though one of my former students told me (and my boyfriend at the time) that she though it was a phase. Ugh. Maybe if I’d yelled at her, I wouldn’t be yelling at figments of my imagination now in my sleep.

That’s what I know now that I didn’t know then. That student’s behavior was inappropriate. This afternoon I listened to a talk about micro-aggressions, which are “little things” that people do to cut you down. This can be anything–passive aggressive comments, looking at you judgmentally, dismissing your opinion, interrupting you, or entering your personal space without permission. Anyway, the idea is that normally micro-aggressions are unconscious, both to the aggressor and the aggressee. That’s why the aggressee only thinks about it later. Wait a damn minute, that was rude, that hurt. So, as always, life is about learning as we go. It’s about thinking, Yes, I’m coming along nicely. Emoting a little, resting a little. Getting it wrong one day, then trying over the next. Not being enough or having a voice for years, then gradually finding your Self. Rising–again and again and again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Any mundane thing–an elevator ride!–can be turned into something joyous.

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