I recently realized something.
I didn’t notice before because, generally speaking, I believe I live in a musical wherein I am the lead (with the best voice), and everything is amazing and the so-called “strangers” around me at the gas station or the grocery store are in actuality extras–supporting cast, if you will–just waiting to sing:
“Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question! Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?”
I assume people are just as excited as I am to have any part at all in “Misty: THE MUSICAL”.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to get a piece of that action?
So it is hard for me to understand a pervasive problem sweeping, well, everywhere about now:
Complete strangers feel they are obligated out of some perverse sense of duty to tell others that they are doing it wrong.
And, most of the time, it isn’t “wrong.” It’s just “different.” In this day and age, even science has conflicting differences, thanks, in part to the advent of computer modeling.
And for some reason, our world seems to be headed in some strange wierd place where differentness is treated with a little vitriol–in spite of all those who are shouting for acceptance and inclusivity.
In fact, the more “inclusive” one group of people becomes, the more they exclude those who don’t fit in their definition of “inclusivity”. Instead of trying to build on what we have in common and appreciating the diverging differences, we cast out what we don’t understand and hate and fear the differences, choosing to scream that because “they” believe in something different, they are somehow “wrong.”
Actually, Gaston and the villagers said it best
We don’t like what we don’t understand, in fact it scares us
It comes from a place of fear, just like it did with the villagers.
I find the cure is to be kind and, if that doesn’t work, just act oblivious to the sneers and scoffs, the sighs or the mutterings. Often when I am kind, I end up with a new friend.
Sometimes, it doesn’t work, so then I just take the oblivious route, or I examine myself to see if there is any reason why someone would feel upset or irritable with me. (And often there IS something I can do to make it easier for others to get along with me. I am a handful.)
When I want to get judgy and upset, I need to take a breath and follow my own advice.
“Different” isn’t “wrong.” Different is just different, and most of the time, that’s a good thing. True diversity means accepting everyone–especially the ones with whom we don’t agree.
So I should just accept
I’m simply not like them
They are the common herd
And you should take my word
You are unique: creme de la creme
Actually, I think most of us feel “different” sometimes. Or maybe all the time. That’s okay. I believe we are all “creme de la creme” and I love it!
In the end, we are a rarity. We ARE different. Out of thousands of planetary systems and it appears that human beings are a very different, very rare thing in the universe, so instead of trying to make everyone else become just like us, let’s reach out and celebrate someone who thinks and believes differently than we do today. And everyday.
the doctor and lauren cooper
This is an oldie but a goodie. Catherine Tate is polarizing: either people love her or hate her. I LOVE her. This was me in high school. I once made my Earth Science teacher get so upset with me that she left the classroom. She was not a nice teacher AND she accused me of cheating (which I would never do). I totally pulled a Lauren Cooper. It was one of the highlights of my short lived public high school career (I decided to home school shortly after that so I could graduate early).
I went to the ocean to let go. I have to do that sometimes. I get these layers and they cover me and I forget who I am underneath it all. The ocean strips it away and makes it better.
I was sitting, watching the waves and the storm coming in. I closed my eyes and smelled the rain mixed with the salty air. It is my favorite smell on planet earth.
The storm was still far off and there were lots of families playing, kids laughing with their parents, fishermen, surfers…and they all seemed relaxed and happy. And I was struck by how short life is and how much of it I spend worrying. Because I’ve suffered through death and loss, I too often worry about, well, death and loss. I try in vain to attempt to gain some control over all of it, and it’s an illusion. And then heaven whispered,
“They’re all terminal, Misty. Everyone is, you know. You aren’t the only one who is going to die. Everyone eventually will.”
I felt peace remembering that a Higher Power is in control and in accepting that we are all, indeed, terminal. All of our days are numbered. And that is alright. There is more than death at the end. At the end of this journey there is life, more beautiful than we can comprehend.
And life is eternal and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon, and an horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.