“There is no standard normal. Normal is subjective.
There are seven billion versions of normal on this planet.”
― Matt Haig
I don’t know about you, writers, but I’ve been described as “not exactly normal.” I don’t think creative people fit squarely into the box society tends to want for us. We are round pegs in a square hole, or square pegs in a round hole, or triangles, or octagons, or any other shape besides the expected one. That’s ok. That’s our “normal.” Being anything else is contrary to what our souls long to be. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that the only “you” that brings contentment is the authentic “you,” even if it doesn’t look or act like other people want it to.
One of my favorite quotes is from Twyla Tharp. “Creativity is an act of defiance.” It refers to the idea that creativity involves challenging the status quo and questioning accepted truths. Tharp suggests that creative people are guided by three universal questions:
Why do I have to obey the rules?
Why can’t I be different?
Why can’t I do it my way?
When you read that, does something in your soul say Amen? And yet, not obeying the rules and changing the playing field sometimes has us running against a system we need to respect and pay attention to. Our families. Our friend groups. Our co-workers. How do we claim authenticity and still blend when the validity of who we are rests in a place others label as “not normal?”
I’ve learned to be grateful for my view of the world. I’ve learned to expect certain responses, which are seldom meant cruelly, but come off as isolating. “You’re different.” “Who can keep up with you?” “How do you do all the things you do?” I’ve learned that my differences are my super powers and there is no way I can give them up. But, occasionally, I feel the weight of, not exactly judgment, but comparison. And sometimes, it tires me.
Truth is, there is no normal. There is only me. And you. And all the other people in the world who have their challenges, hopes and dreams. We work to try to find something that feels right, that feels settled and contented, that makes us feel whole.
Here’s another truth, we are always whole, no matter if we don’t feel it. We may get lost and wander a little bit, but we are not in pieces as we do it. We are still, always, completely, wholly and fully ourselves.
What do you do when you feel a little misaligned and doubting? I guess we all have our own tricks to settle ourselves. Mine is creating visual art and being in the forest. Lately, I’ve taken to combining those in the form of earth altars. I find a space on the trail that speaks to me and I look around for natural elements. Nuts, seeds, leaves, stems, rocks, flowers, anything. And then I reach into the deep presence of nature and arrange the elements in a way that pleases me. These are not meant to be permanent. (That’s another good lesson to learn – not to hold on too tightly to anything.) We create, then we release. We create, then we offer it to a world that may or may not value it. It’s the creating that has the most meaning. The reception is out of our hands.
So, open your hands. This is your therapy. Don’t clench so tightly to who you are supposed to be. Just be who you are. All of it. All the weird, unnormal, strange, defiant pieces of yourself. Let them teach you how to live.
Here’s to being radically, unnormally normal. Here’s to you.
AND, Happy Thanksgiving, too!
Blessings,
Sandy