special,
a.,
of a
peculiar or restricted kind, of or for a particular person or thing, not
generally applicable or prevalent or occurring, exceptional in degree
Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow
on it
– Vincent Van Gogh
Someone very wise (and very qualified) once told me that I carry the weight
of everything I would like to help fix, in my back. Said person proceeded to
explain that although it was commendable that I should care so strongly for the
earth that I live on and in, it wasn’t ever going to get better with my back
and bones in knots and crosses. “We’ll need this back in full capability mode
if anything is ever going to get fixed little lady.”
Those words stuck with me.
As did the sense that this stress I had put on body was an oddity, something
this person was not used to seeing. The stress I had inflicted upon myself had
nothing to do with my status in society, or my ability to wield power over
others.
It had nothing to do with being hunched over a desk all day, quietly
contributing to the daily phenomenon of deadlines for paper to be sent to
buildings full of paper and placed in binders of paper, vaulted in vaults full
of paper and maybe even copied so there were more paper versions of the same
paper. It wasn’t about ladder climbing, or popularity, or money or traffic.
And that meant it wasn’t normal.
And he knew it. And I knew it too.
I am crazy lucky to have, scattered around me, some incredibly spirited
people.
They move through life as though there is an adventure on every
horizon. I see their bravery when faced with the choice between comfortable and
innovative; they choose the latter, even though there is rarely guarantee of
success.
Some are nomads, gypsies, wanderers, soaking in the vast array of land
and sea this world is made up of. Some are in battle everyday to convince those
that are comfortable that yes this forest is worth saving, yes this dance piece
is legitimate, no we will not compromise, no you cannot kill this earth.
They
arm themselves with knowledge and determination and kindness and aim to show a
view that isn’t normal, that isn’t mainstream, which unfortunately might not
make you a lot of money, sir, but please understand, it wasn’t yours to own and
destroy in the first place.
They are old and young and rich and poor and middle of the barrel,
straight, bendy, hairy and not hairy. And they are amazing. Because they choose
to walk where others are too hesitant to go.
They are where the flowers grow.
Thank you for showing me that normal isn’t normal. That wanting to
change things for the better is not ridiculous. That friendship and love and
understanding knows no bounds and in fact, stretches further than perceivable. That
comfy is only comfy is things can still grow.
And that even if you’re not
always right beside me, I don’t have to do it alone.
Bless your bloomin lovely guts.
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