Someone Somewhere Understands

"What one society judged to be strange, another might more sensibly welcome as normal. Other lands may return to us a sense of possibility stamped out by provincial arrogance; they encourage us to grow more acceptable to ourselves." - Alain de Botton

I used to take a great deal of pride in my brooding. It sounds ridiculous but I once believed the obstacles and worries I felt were unique only to me. No one could identify with my complexity, my subtleties, what made me tick. 

Comical.

It takes a great deal of courage to be vulnerable. We risk ridicule or judgement. But sharing our pain can liberate us from the shame or embarrassment we may feel. 

I've heard it said that on the other side of fear is freedom. Only it's not about denouncing that fear but learning to co-exist with it and not allowing it to define us. 

When we search for the friend or community of people who we can talk openly to we have the great fortune of stumbling across those who know seem to know us better than we do. We take solace in that connection and find the freedom to offer what Montaigne called our "true portrait."

My hope is that 2018 is the year you feel empowered to share your true portrait and make the effort to connect with a group of people who find profound joy in your perfect strangeness and unconventional view of the world. 

Whatever you are going through know you are far from alone. There are people, lots, who can identify with whatever you are feeling. To think otherwise is short-sighted, perhaps even a bit self-indulgent. 

There are 7 billion people on the planet and thousands of years of human history. One should take enormous comfort that someone somewhere feels your struggle, your heartache.

By sharing our stories we can empower others through our experiences and make the world a little smaller. Isolation after all perpetuates our pain.

Find your tribe and commit to not spending another moment being false to yourself.

It's My Problem, Not His

Last night I hopped on a plane for Lisbon, Portugal. I sat in the very last row as I watched passengers slowly file on to this packed flight. I heard Portuguese being spoken by the family sitting in front of me, reminding me of how much I loved the cadence and harmony of the language.

The gentlemen sitting beside me was an elderly man from the south. He was kind, sometimes abrupt, but mostly aloof during the 7-hour flight. I half-wondered if he knew where he was going and what he planned to do once we landed. "Is the voltage in Portugal 220?" I looked at him quizzically before telling him I had no idea and that it was perhaps the most interesting question I'd ever been asked.

He also asked a few times what language was being spoken over the PA system. "Portuguese," the woman beside him replied. I started to build this entire narrative of a person I didn't even know based on a few completely innocuous questions. Most weren't even directed to me. Yet, I foolishly pieced together a biography for this man. 

When I got off the plane and had a few minutes to collect myself I realized it was my problem, not his. His take on the world threatened my own and rather than be curious about our differences I silently tried to leverage mine by using judgment. It's not at all what community, understanding, compassion, or even travel are about -- not in the least. 

Next time, I'll make sure I do better.

No Industry Like It

"Being an artist is the only line of work where you're considered a quitter if you move on to something else," I heard a friend say. "If you're a lawyer and then decide to teach, nobody says anything. You just switched careers."

I thought about his words for quite a while after our conversation. He had a point. Not only does walking away from being an artist often entail a stigma, but far more difficult, the loss of identity. "If I'm not an actor then who am I?"

All I've learned is the more you build up who you are as a person, broaden your understanding of the world, and clarify the role you hope to play in it, you'll slowly evolve into a person who refuses to be defined by just one thing. 

When you take comfort in the knowing you're a three-dimensional person with skills, stories, and gifts to offer beyond your art form, you'll take greater comfort in your hiatus from your first love, however long that may be.

The Importance of Self-Awareness

"I like getting older," my friend Alex told me. We were at our friend Sean's wedding over the weekend and what prompted his comment was an observation made by his better half, Liz. "You grow to appreciate that you can't do everything. And that's okay."

I took her words to heart later that evening. She was right. There's power in giving over to what is just not in the cards. It's not a form of defeat, or complacency, but rather an understanding that we can't be great at everything. You can still dream big and work diligently towards those grand ambitions, while also grounding them with a sense of truth. It's up to you to discover what that means.

I know I'll never play mid-fielder for the Men's US Soccer Team and that's okay. Instead, I have more time to go all in on my strengths and focus on what I'm skilled at doing.

Not Understanding

I think the root of a great deal of angst comes from our failure to understand why life sometimes unfolds the way it does. I've spent far too much time racking my brain to figure out why a romantic relationship failed, wondering what I could have done differently.

I have tried over and over to figure out why my extraordinary efforts towards a pursuit did not bear the fruits I hoped it would.

And I've certainly felt my fair share of frustration from college admissions offices to literary agents to casting directors.

As a child I looked at not understanding something with a sense of wonder, a curiosity that has sadly been swapped for apprehension. Of course, as one grows older you gradually begin to know what you don't know, which is important for any meaningful self-development. It's important we continue to strive, to learn, to combat our ignorance.

But what if there was a sweet spot? A place where instead of getting worked up about why you weren't cast in a role, or your book was denied publication, or perhaps a blog you thought would resonate with people didn't we maintained a sense of poise. What if we eased into the unknown and didn't get worked up about the million or so variables we didn't even consider leading up to the result?

What if we looked at failure as feedback and used it as an opportunity to adjust our approach while not being so hard on ourselves? I'm convinced this would put years back on our lives.

Maybe there's a place where not understanding something is okay. Perhaps instead, we can tap back into our inner child and pivot back towards curiosity and that wonderful flexibility in thinking we often lose as we get older.

Just a thought.