Star and Self-Gazing (Blog #443)

Leave a comment

Feelings, who needs ’em? Ugh. I’ve spent the day feeling. Feeling tired, sad, guilty, angry, intrigued, amused, hopeful. Not necessarily in that order. Ick. Feelings here, feelings there, feelings, feelings, everywhere. Who came up with this emotional highway? I’ve been all over the road today.

Pick a lane, Marcus, pick a lane.

Mostly all I did today was read. First I read fifty pages in a beginner’s book to astronomy, something I picked up recently because I’d actually like to understand the universe I live in. Seriously, I’ve spent my entire life not knowing my Arcturus from a hole in the ground, and I intend to do something about it. Today I learned that you can use The Big Dipper (year round) and Orion (in the winter) to find almost every major constellation and/or star in the sky (if you’re in the northern hemisphere). Also, I learned that Pollux, one of the two bright stars in the constellation Gemini, means “much wine.” (The other one, Castor, means “he who excels” or “beaver.”) Suffice it to say, Pollux is now my favorite star in the sky.

Even though it’s technically below the horizon as we speak.

In addition to starting the astronomy book, I also read an entire fiction novel, a story about a family suicide. So there I went feeling again–sad for the characters, mad that the author didn’t use quotation marks, even though a lot of people were–get this–quoted. Apparently this is a thing now, to just run everything together. Like, Marcus says, I think this is a bad idea. What is the world coming to? Call me an old fart, but I’m just not on board.

This afternoon during reading breaks I took the dog back I’ve been sitting the last seven nights (KoKo). Part of me was ready to take her back. I like to sleep in, and although she never barked, I could hear her moving around in the mornings. But then another part of me really wanted her to stay. She’d nuzzle up to me and give me the biggest hugs. She wouldn’t stop. I’d have to say, “Please, KoKo, this is getting awkward.” Still, I don’t remember the last time someone hugged me like that.

Yeah, I miss her.

Ugh. Feelings again.

This evening after more reading, I went for a run, which turned into more of a walk. Maybe it helped work some things out. It’s hard to tell. I took a nap this afternoon, but currently I’m so tired I don’t know what I’m feeling. Periodically throughout the day I’ve noticed my tight muscles because life, my allergies because I’m off antihistamines for the weekend, a requirement for the allergist I’m seeing Monday. I tend to ignore these things, little aches and annoyances. I’m good at soldiering through. But today I’ve caught myself taking a deep breath now and then, trying to take in and contain, rather than push away, whatever is going on inside me.

To be clear, I don’t think feelings can be contained, at least at will. I have this tight muscle in my abdomen. I’m always thinking that if I could let go emotionally, it would let go physically. (It’s a theory.) So I stretch and I breathe deep, and I feel all my feelings for an afternoon, but it’s still there, hanging out until it’s ready to leave. That’s what I mean by contain, letting something hang out. I look at everything going on in my life–all the circumstances, challenges, feelings–and wonder, Am I large enough to hold all of this, to be patient, to not rush events and emotions out my proverbial door?

At home after my walk, I plopped down in our driveway with my astronomy book and a star-gazing app on my phone. For thirty minutes I stared up at the sky and was generally pissed off at the streetlights that made it difficult to see anything. Still, slowly I found my way around the heavens. There was The Big Dipper, Polaris (The North Star) and the Little Dipper, The Northern Cross. I even found “my” Arcturus! The book said it can take a year to get really comfortable with what’s going on in the heavens, so I’m telling myself to be patient, not just with my learning about the sky, but also with my learning about myself. For surely I too am a universe–vast–with plenty of mysteries and more than enough space to contain them, to contain all that can happen and be felt in a day, in a lifetime.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

No one is immune from life’s challenges.

"

The Long, Slow Road (Blog #389)

Leave a comment

This morning I officially started the Autoimmune Paleo Diet (AIP), and I don’t mind saying it sucks. Granted, all the food I’ve eaten, which basically amounts to meat, vegetables, and fruit (minus nightshades, nuts, and eggs), has been delicious. But no matter how much I eat, I just stay hungry. This has always been my experience whenever I’ve given up breads and sugars in the past–it takes a while to get adjusted.

My main irritation is that whenever I look in the refrigerator or cabinets, all I can see are the things I CAN’T eat–things like peanut butter, peanut butter, and peanut butter.

I’m trying to remind myself that it’s not that I CAN’T eat peanut butter and all the other no-noes in the kitchen, but that I’m CHOOSING to not eat them in order to give my body a chance to heal. Last night a friend explained to me that nightshades (one of the forbidden foods on AIP) is anything with a “cap”–tomatoes, eggplants, peppers. Later I read that nightshades can contribute to inflammation in some people, that they can actually cause or exacerbate eczema or contact dermatitis. Having spent the last several months with generally irritable skin and having recently endured a rather disconcerting skin reaction to a change in laundry detergent, I’m really hoping that CHOOSING to cut out nightshades will help. Not that I want to give up ketchup and paprika forever, but I would like my skin back. So here’s to Day One of Good Choices.

Let the healing begin.

Part of AIP is not just avoiding certain foods and eating others, but also “feeding your gut,” which means ingesting nutrient-dense foods and probiotics like bone broth, kombucha, and sauerkraut. (The plan also suggests eating liver and heart, but as my dad said, “No.”) Anyway, I “cheated” and bought bone broth powder last week, and this afternoon I picked up some kombucha and sauerkraut at the local health food store, since the grocery store I went to yesterday didn’t have the brands I wanted.

So this has been today–I’ve eaten two meals and two snacks, run one errand, and–y’all–I’ve taken two naps. For whatever reason–my recent immunizations or the change in diet (did I mention it doesn’t include coffee!)–my body is exhausted. I’m trying to go with it. This is a lesson I’m slowly (slowly) learning, to TRUST my body, to believe that if it’s irritated, there’s a reason, if it’s tired, it needs rest. Sounds simple, I know, but you wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve refused to listen to my body’s messages, the number of times I’ve completely ignored them or insisted on soldiering through.

Of course, I wish my body’s messages were clearer. Like, if tomatoes are contributing to my skin issues, it’s obviously a cumulative effect, since it’s not like I eat one tomato and break out in hives. So I wish I had an internal buzzer that went off or maybe a blinking light that flashed whenever I picked a tomato up, some sort of warning signal that announced, “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger.” OH!–I’ve got it. What if our fingernails turned black when we touched something harmful like a handful of peanuts or even a sociopath?

That would be cool.

This is one of my big gripes about the way the planet earth is set up, that cause and effect aren’t always very clear down here, that we often have to look and look and look some more before finding answers. I realize God and the universe aren’t in the habit of asking for feedback, but if they ever do ask, that’s what I’d say. Like, did you have to make everything such a big mystery? And if tomatoes are such a problem, why did you have to give them a cute little cap and make them so damn tasty?

I mean–a vegetable with a hat–who WOULDN’T want to gobble that up?

You stop thinking you know everything.

Caroline Myss says that a big part of the spiritual journey is learning endurance, and I guess that means you can’t have everything handed to you on a silver platter. Rather, it’s been my experience that anything worth having–mental or physical health, money, whatever–are best enjoyed when they are hard-earned. Then they aren’t taken for granted. Plus, when you’ve had to look and look and look some more, you have more compassion for others who are looking, others who are trying to find their way. When things don’t come easily or quickly, you stop thinking you know everything. Consequently, you go easier on yourself and others. Yes, this is the benefit of long, slow road, the road that makes you stronger, the road that makes you kinder.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Go easier on yourself.

"

Between Job and Prometheus (Blog #344)

Leave a comment

Feeling a bit better, I ventured out of the house today. Like, past the mailbox. Y’all, I actually got dressed, put on a nice pair of shoes, and went to Fort Smith to run errands. My original intention was to simply go to Kinko’s and make copies, but I ended up going to Kinko’s, the dermatologist’s office, the post office, the bank, and Walmart. I also stopped by the Department of Motor Vehicles and even went so far as to “take a number” and sit down. But as soon as I looked at the current number being serviced and realized that ninety-five people were in line ahead of me, I thought, I feel better, but not that much better, and left.

Some days you just can’t.

About the time I got to Walmart, I got a call from my friend Cameron. Cameron lives in New Mexico, and we met maybe ten years ago. Four years ago, when my life was a mess and I was just beginning therapy, Cameron came to Arkansas and helped me move. You know, he’s solid, one of those types who always insists on talking about you first. Anyway, after Warmart I headed home but took the scenic route so I could talk to Cam.

When I pulled in the driveway, it was five-thirty. And whereas I’d only been gone for two-and-a-half hours, I felt like I’d just gotten back from a sixteen-hour road trip. I came in, ate dinner, then lay down and promptly fell asleep. Now it’s just after nine, and I’m ready to go back to bed. At the same time, my body is stiff (in all the wrong places, as Grandpa used to say), and I have a headache. This is the damn thing about being sick. You spend most your time in bed because you have all the energy of a two-toed sloth, but you develop all these other problems because you’re not up moving around. Plus, you mouth-breathe when you’re congested, so not only do you wake up with a crick in your neck, but you also wake up with a tongue that has all the consistency of sandpaper.

It’s not pretty.

Dear Jesus, help.

Joseph Campbell often speaks about the Biblical story of Job. The way Campbell interprets it, God, having nothing better to do on a Friday night, makes a wager with Satan–do whatever you want to my servant Job over there (just don’t kill him), and I bet he won’t curse me. Of course, we all know how the story unfolds. Things got pretty bad for Job. Like he lost his fortune, all his children died, and he got leprosy. (Leprosy!) Talk about getting screwed. And oh yeah, his wife and friends said everything was his fault. Naturally bewildered, Job asks God, “Hey, man, what the hell?”

God’s answer? “Are you big? I am. Can you fill Leviathan’s nose with harpoons? I can. If you weren’t there when the world was created and if you didn’t create it (like I did), don’t tell me how to do things.”

In response to being served this cosmic piece of humble pie, Job backed off. He said, “I despise myself and relent in dust and ashes.” (Apparently both God and Job had a flare for the dramatic.)

Campbell compares this story to the Greek myth about Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to man, thus thwarting Zeus’s plan to destroy the human race. Naturally, Zeus was pissed. He strapped Prometheus to a rock. (I’m sure some thunderbolts were involved.) Then every day an eagle came to Prometheus and ate his liver, which regenerated itself every night so the whole process could start all over again. Talk about getting screwed. Anyway, Hermes, the famous messenger god with those fabulous winged shoes, came to Prometheus and said, “You know, if you’d just apologize and tell Zeus how great he is, this could all be over.”

Prometheus’s reply?

“Go suck an egg.”

Campbell says these stories or myths represent two totally different and irreconcilable ways of being in the world. One–the story of Job–is mystical and mysterious. It’s spiritual. The other–the story of Prometheus–is human. Campbell never says that one is better or worse than the other, but does say that most of us are with Job on our lips and with Prometheus in our hearts. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, we think we know how to run the universe. Sunday, for a couple hours, we say that God knows best. The following Monday we’re on the shrink’s couch wondering why we have problems.

In the play of life, I’m an actor–not the writer, not the director.

Earlier today my friend Marla and I were texting about all the illness that is up in my family household, and she said, “What Jumanji god did you piss off?” I said, “Seriously, I feel like Zeus has strapped me to a rock.” As I’ve said before, I’m worn out by all this. I’m over it. Honestly, there are moments when I want to tell the universe to suck an egg. Like, what did I do to deserve this? What did any of us do to deserve this? In other moments, I recognize my small stature in the universe. Just as I don’t get to decide the weather each day, I also don’t get to decide which challenges show up in my life. I hate that, but that’s the way it is. In the play of life, I’m an actor–not the writer, not the director. This is the part I’ve been given for now, and my choice is how I’m going to play it. But this is the struggle I think we all deal with daily, deciding whose team we’re on, deciding between Job and Prometheus.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

"

God: sloppy or not? (blog #26)

Leave a comment

Sometimes I think that God is sloppy. There, I said it. And all I mean by that is that God doesn’t do things the way I would do them. (Surprise.) Like, in my world, everything has its place. My keys always go here, or there, and if they’re not here, or there, they’re lost. And at the end of every day, I go through my man bag and put all the pens in the pen holders, and all the books in the middle pocket, and all the bills I need to pay in the outside pocket, and all three of my prescription glasses in the other pocket next to my wallet that holds all of my credit cards that are organized according to their respective billing due dates. (It’s a wonder I don’t get laid more.)

This morning I woke up and immediately started thinking about all the things I needed to do today. Specifically, I started thinking about three separate conversations I needed to have in order to figure out the hospital billing for the sinus surgery I had a couple of months ago. Not that hospital billing is normally easy, but on the day of the surgery, the doctor said he wanted to do a second CT scan because the first one was off by nine degrees. (That’s funny. My favorite number is nine.) He said I wouldn’t be charged for it.

So of course I was.

But I haven’t been charged for the first one. Which is too bad, since the first one was cheaper than the second one because insurance is, well, a fucking mystery, probably invented by drunk space aliens. So for the last two months, I’ve wanted to get this whole thing figured out and effectively move “pay my hospital bill” from my “to-do list” to my “done list” because I’m organized and everything has its place and I don’t like things being unsettled.

God, on the other hand, obviously enjoys a good mess and is not in a hurry to get this matter checked off his list because I’ve ended up with three or four different account numbers at the hospital, and that’s made even the billing department confused. So now the day is over, and I’ve had all three of those conversations (two with billing people and one with the doctor), and whereas everyone was extremely helpful, things still aren’t completely settled. (Clearly God’s getting his way, and that drives me nuts.)

I’ve been thinking most the day that I would write about the idea that the universe—God—is communicative. There’s a dead philosopher (whom I have a really big intellectual crush on) named Alan Watts who points out that not only are you interested in and watching the universe, but the universe is also interested in and watching you. Well, this is an idea I’ve been slowly coming around to, that the universe is interacting with all of us, and that it’s actually kind and not vindictive or punitive.

So this afternoon I was on my way to a gift shop in Fayetteville, and I was thinking about the fact that one of the positive things about living with my parents is that I started this blog and I started writing every day. And although that’s not a steady paycheck and it’s not living in Austin, it’s a small start, and sometimes small starts end up as big finishes. (Just like a mustard seed starts small but doesn’t stay that way.) So I got to the gift shop, and as I was looking at cards, I noticed one that showed several light bulbs hanging down, just like the main picture I chose for this blog. And I kind of did a double take and smiled to myself because I figured God was communicating.

Before I left the store, the girl behind the counter asked what I was doing later, so I said, “I’m teaching a dance class.” And then I asked her the same thing, and she said, “I’m moving.”

“Where are you moving?”

“I’m moving in with my parents because I’m getting married soon, so I’m living with them for a while.”

“That’s funny,” I said, “I’m living with my parents now.”

And then she said, “I think it’s great. I mean, it’s part of the dream.”

So I took that as God communicating again, just letting me know that living with my parents is part of my journey, part of my dream.

Oh, and I almost forgot one more thing God said to me–the message on the front of the card with the light bulbs—“Your future looks bright.”

(This picture was taken just outside the store where God talked to me.)

Little incidents like these thrill me to no end because I think of all the things that had to come together in order for me to be in that one particular shop when that one particular girl was working, which just happened to be the day she was moving in with her parents. And also that card had to be there instead of some other card, and some card designer had to make those light bulbs hang down the way they do on this site. (Incidentally, the site photo was taken years ago in Albuquerque at an Urban Outfitters, and it was one of my first Instagram posts, and it just “felt right” when I was designing the page.)

Obviously, God’s capable of a lot. Just look around.

Just before I wrote that last paragraph, I was about to say, once again, that God was sloppy, that it would have been more clean cut and organized to get me the message some other way. (A burning bush maybe?) But having written that last paragraph, I have to admit that God is a lot more organized than I give him credit for. And if all those things could come together seamlessly just so God could whisper, “You’re doing better than you think you are,” what else is he capable of?

Obviously, he’s capable of a lot. Just look around.

A friend reminded me tonight that God–the universe–is intelligent, that the wisdom that makes the mustard seed transform into a tree also keeps the planets spinning and also makes my finger nails grow. And if it can hang a star in the sky and it can bring two strangers together so one can encourage the other without even knowing it, then that wisdom can certainly figure out my hospital billing. And if the first CT scan was off by nine degrees and my favorite number is nine, that’s probably not an accident, so it’s probably just God letting me know he has something up his sleeve again, just like he had this blog up his sleeve when I moved in with Mom and Dad. To me, it may look like sloppy work, but that’s probably because, until now, I’ve been too busy organizing my sock drawer to notice that not only is God interested in me, but he’s also trying pretty hard to get my attention. And at least when I consider the heavens, I think that for God too, everything has its place. So surely that includes me. Surely I’m right where I need to be.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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

"