Why are we so afraid of 'weird'?

I had the most interesting experience on the London tube this evening. I hopped on at Russell Square on my way back to my friend’s place in Clapham Common. It was about 9:45pm, and I was alone.

I generally feel an aura of safety around me when I travel solo but sometimes the London underground can set me off a bit – I’ve seen some strange things down there. So I was alert.

I got down to the platform and noticed ahead of me were a set of long legs marching along. The legs were wearing jet black pointy heeled boots that went ¾ up the thighs, The upper thighs were bare, up until the cameo patterned skin tight booty shorts, barely covering this person’s buttocks. I couldn’t make out the rest of the outfit since the person was half way up the stairs already. Needless to say, I was automatically thinking “street worker? stripper?”, and slowed my pace just a bit.

But then I caught a glimpse of this person...not a young woman at all! In fact, not even a woman! It was a balding, grey haired old man.

Very odd I thought.

I got on the train and took a spot standing in the middle of the car. When I looked over, I caught a glimpse of this man, standing only a few feet away from me. His belly was entirely bare and hanging out, he had a matching cameo-patterned cropped top, and a black leather collar around his neck. No one was standing near him.

I thought, this is really strange. What’s his story?

Then I looked at his face. And I kid you not, what I saw moved me. He had the face of an angel. He looked deeply serene, so content, and so unmoved by all the stares, whispers, and snickers around him.

My gaze was glued to this interesting man. He must have been nearly 70, but his face didn’t show it. His skin glowed. His eyes were a clear blue.

I became intensely curious. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to prove to people around him that he was the angel that I saw, despite his unsual appearance. I didn’t have the guts to strike up a conversation and ask about his clothes, but I did have the courage to move closer and ask him if he wanted to take a seat that had just become available.

And in the most beautiful British accent he said to me, “No, you go ahead dear”. And so I sat directly in front of him and smiled. He smiled back. He continued to stand there unmoved by the stupid circus of judgmental onlookers surrounding him.

I spent the next 2 minutes or so looking around, feeling my heart ache as I saw two young Japanese girls looking and laughing at him. And a young couple gazing over and then back at each other, snickering together. And two complete strangers who both noticed this man and at the same time looked at each other and found comfort in the difference they saw in him but not in themselves.

I thought to myself - how dare they! None of these people know what’s going on in his head or life. And they don’t even have the courage to find out. They just find solace in snickering and assuming that he’s a complete weirdo and they are not.

Had he been harmful, then that would be a different story. But he was minding his own business, and what’s more, he had the will to be different. He had the courage to bust people’s perceptions of what’s normal and acceptable.

At the next stop, the man got off. As he walked out the door, he said, in his lovely well-mannered British accent “Pardon me, please”, and kindly slipped by and was gone. I couldn’t help but notice on his way out, what he was carrying over his shoulder. It was a black book bag and written on it was something like “Management Conference Association”.

That just did it for me! I bet not one other person on the train even noticed that. Instead, as soon as he left, it was like a giant secret bubble had been popped and a huge sigh of relief and laughter followed.

Nothing had to be said because it was obvious what they were all thinking. “Thank God he’s gone. What a weirdo. That was soooo bizarre.”

I was nearly brought to tears. I imagined all the other people in the world that have to face this sort of ridicule and speculation on a daily basis just because we are a culture afraid of difference.

Well what the hell are we afraid of? Why can’t a man wear high heels and a black collar and spandex shorts if he wants to? It doesn’t mean he isn’t well mannered and a gentle soul. Maybe he wears a business suit by day and wants to make a point with this alternative outfit at night. Who knows? Who cares.

In any case, I got back to my friend’s place (a fellow anthropologist) and we talked about the sadness in the world when “difference” is such a scary thing for most people. And how Lady Gaga can wear a meat dress for God’s sake but people still feel they have the right to laugh at an ordinary person who they know nothing about.

So I ask everyone who reads this, next time you find yourself being entertained at the expense of another person, ask yourself “what is really so funny?” and then get curious about what that person’s story could be. It may surprise you.

Why is it that when it rains, it pours?

Why?
Because we are more powerful than we think.
We have gotten so good at asking for things, for wanting, wishing, and seeking out more, more, more...that when the universe actually answers, we are totally unprepared for it!

I'm going through this right now. I have a checklist of things that I have been "asking for"/"praying for"/"hoping for" (whatever you want to call it). And I've basically gotten them. I've carved out my ideal situation - with jobs, relationships, living arrangements - all the core elements that make up a happy, satisfying life in my mind...

But I'm getting exhausted. So there is one thing that I have forgotten to ask for. SUPPORT.

I need an UMBRELLA!!!

We live in such a time of excess and abundance and OVERLOAD...we're in constant limbo between the tension of having it all and not being able to cope with it all. We're like dogs trying to catch our own tails sometimes. Time is speeding up. Things are getting more complicated. What to do?

Ask for help. Weed things out. The full moon just passed (generally busiest time of month for many people) and now it wanes. It is the time to let things go.

I for one, despite having asked for some rain, refuse to be caught in a torrential downpour!!!

So we'll see how it goes. I still want the job/relationships/cool living situation but my next "wish" is for support in keeping me on track and keeping the things in my life that will help me do that, while weeding out the ones that won't. Basically I need a highly selective-semi-permeable umbrella.

That exists doesn't it?

Is your car a vegetarian?

Mine is. I swear it's true. My sister and I had an hour conversation with my car on the weekend confirming that it likes lettuce, spring rolls, beans, onions, and for dessert, strawberry ice cream! But hamburgers? Absolutely not. Yuck.

I have no idea how the conversation started - I think it had something to do with my brake pads not working properly and my poor car shuddering every time I tried to slow down or stop. For some reason this was hilarious to my sister. She has a sort of infectious laugh that is impossible to ignore.

With her giggling in the passenger seat, I had two options - get even more worked up, start yelling at her to shut up, and outwardly curse the god damn autoshop that just replaced my clutch and told me my brakes were fine (bullshit!!) OR I could laugh along with her.

Laugh? How could I laugh with her when I could momentarily smash into the car in front of me? How could I make light of this situation? There is only one answer...imagination.

And so it was: my car was farting.

Yes, my car was having a severe case of car farts, hence the jerks and the shuddering. That was the only "logical" explanation. My poor baby, I decided, had a bad case of upset stomach because he ate bad onions last night.

"Bad onions?" my sister asked.

"Why yes, he normally doesn't eat onions...I think he's allergic, but he got pretty greedy last night and overindulged in some oniony Indian food."

A puzzled but intrigued look from my sister.

"My car is a vegetarian you know. He really likes salads. Sometimes soups but not in the summer, too hot for him. What else does he like? Oh yes, chickpeas..HUGE fan of chickpeas. Sometimes he's in the mood for pizza but not usually...."

"What else does he like" she asks.

Hold on, I'll ask him....

And on and on I went until my sister was convinced my car was talking to me, answering my questions about his diet, and then she too got into the convo - just to be sure I wasn't lying...about the fact that he doesn't eat ribs.

So for the next hour or so, while I could have been having a panic attack knowing my brake pads were wearing thin, my sister and I made light of the situation using a little dose of imagination.

It got me thinking about when else we can tap into this ultra cheap, quite natural, and always accessible tool to help guide us through life's challenges. When things just don't go our way and we can't do anything about it in the moment, what can we do to alleviate the pain? Can we make a game? Can we talk to the problem as if it were a person (insert body part, car trouble, iphone crisis)? Or can we just try and have a laugh about it, see how it feels? I found by talking to my car, I suddenly had a greater appreciation for all that it does for me. I actually started to convince myself that my car had a unique personality and I should treat it like a friend. Maybe I should treat my next injury in this manner - talking to a twisted ankle might not fix it, but it sure would make me more grateful for having body parts that work. If nothing else, imagination certainly helps us change my perspective and makes things go a little more smoothly.

What do plastic surgeons have in common with urban planners?

I'll tell you in a minute. But first I have to backtrack for a second and share a little tid bit of information: about two years ago if you had asked me whether I was interested in politics I would have said, "yes...sure...absolutely!" The truth? While I enjoy studying politics (i.e. the academic bit, the theory), in reality, the only part of the newspaper that I actually read (and not even on a regular basis) is the Life Section. (thank goodness for the life section!)

So why did I lie? I feel like we are such a generation of do-gooders, go-getters, and change makers, that we all want to be seen as extraordinary, super aware, socially conscious, caring citizens. We want to be everything all at once - environmentalists, social activists, political advocates, international volunteers. Anything that challenges the screw ups the generations before us did. And if we don't? We're not good citizens?

This is nonsense. As I've come to realize, I suffered from a complete and utter case of the "making a difference complex". I put so much pressure on myself to seem remotely interested and involved at every level of "doing good", that I missed the whole point.

And what is the point? The point is...the world is like the human body...to heal, it requires so many different forms of therapy and types of treatment. But each one has its place. I will use the analogy of my own body for a moment. About 7 years ago I had a pretty bad ski fall, I twisted my neck, got whiplash and busted my shoulder. As standard procedure would dictate, I went to see a physio for a few months. Fine, problem solved. No, not really. Years later, I still found my neck to be an issue. I then started seeing a chiropractor, who adjusted the vertebrae, structurally getting everything back in alignment. Still not good enough. I then went to a massage therapist, she massages the hell out of my shoulders and neck trying to loosen everything up. Meh, some progress, but only enough to get those pesky muscles that were gripping at my vertebrae to let go temporarily. Then I see an osteopath and wow, does she get deep. She's working on the connective tissue level and telling me it all has to do with my heavy liver (huh? exactly)...basically my liver is acting as an anchor to my neck and pulling at it constantly via the minute tissue all through the right side of my body. Interesting. Finally, I go to yoga. Yoga works on balancing out my emotional body, opening my heart for example and making me realize that when I have emotional stress, my neck gives out. So how to prevent that? Practice more yoga, examine my feelings.

So, to make a long story short, I have needed help from almost every possible practioner i could get my hands on, and have worked on the cellular level to the very superficial level.

So...what does a plastic surgeon have in common with an eco-urban planner? Well, I would say that everyone out there trying to "make a difference" can be likened to some kind of body healer or medical practitioner, with everyone's focus and scale of practice being different.

For example, political types, lawyers, and policy makers are like chiropractors. They look at the building blocks of the body, aka the structure in society. They can change the rules, make new legislation, and systematic changes that aim to keep our social body in check. The plastic surgeon works on making us look good on the outside, just as devoted green urban planners try to revitalize the city with rooftop gardens, waterfront face lifts, and community art projects. What about the grass roots activists? People working directly with others at the ground level - alleviating poverty, building homes in earthquake stricken areas, witnessing tragic conditions everyday? They are the physiotherapists, crucial for mobilizing the large joints of our social body. They help to push and shift and strengthen our world on a more macro level. Without them, our muscles would seize up. And then of course there are those educators, innovators, motivators, coaches, and individuals trying to make change via altering the mindset of our society. The spiritual leaders and the philosophical teachers that are gently rocking the fascia of our world. This is the least intrusive social therapy I know of, akin to osteopathy or yin yoga, it is nonviolent and stretches out the most minute parts of our social body that we like to grip on to because that's what feels normal. But these tissues are also the hardest to move. Our mindsets and belief systems are the hardest to change. It takes patience and gentle prodding to make people over-turn their values.

So, where has my political-inferiority complex gone? Well now I see, that rather than being ashamed by the fact that I don't know as much as some of my friends about the current political system, the Copenhagen summit, or Canadian laws, and I'm not jumping at the chance to travel to Namibia to hand out condoms and birth control to young girls...I still have a place as a concerned, caring and engaged citizen. We can't be everything at once...so I'll stick to what I know - and that's definitely not cracking bones!

Reflections "On the Wings of Love": Who is the YOU that you want to BE?

What could we possibly learn from a show like the Bachelor? It's clearly fake, and obviously that Roslyn chick was just hired to add some juiciness to the show, and basically the only reason I watch it is to see what extravagant date ideas I can snag for my hypothetical future dates. However, having said that, after watching the finale last week I surprisingly came away with one somewhat substantial piece of insight, and am shocked to admit, I may just use it in my own dating life. This revelatory moment came when, I believe, one of Jake's sisters mentioned that Vienna (the supposedly psycho, self-centered, trailer trash girl from Florida), made Jake laugh. She brought out the goofy side in him, the side that the family knew well, but that those "perfect-Tenleyesque-pedestal girls" could not seem to tease out of him.

It's so true. The more I watched his interaction with Tenley, someone so clearly in tune with him in terms of core values, interests, and general disposition, the more I realized they were almost too perfect together. Jake kept saying, "there is something missing, nothing is wrong, but there is just something missing". What is that missing thing? He couldn't even begin to explain it. Well I'll tell you what it is - it's the ability to be the person that you love to be. It's almost like, when with someone else, you begin to fall in love with yourself. We think this way in terms of friends don't we? I know that the friends that I cherish the most are the ones that make me love who I am around them...no falsehoods, no trying hard, everything is easy, and FUN!

So when looking for a partner, we should really be looking at ourselves...at the "(insert my name) I am when I am around (insert partner's name)". Do we like ourselves when we are around that person? Do we show sides of our personality that might not always shine through in other relationships?

I think about all the people that I have known, the guys that I have dated, and honestly, the ones that stick out in my mind the most, are the ones that didn't just align with my own values/interests/perspectives on life, but those that had that mysterious thing that wasn't missing, the "je ne sais quoi"...for me that was bringing out the kid in me. I know I can be a bit serious at times, but I know that I love to be a huge goof-ball, so it just takes the right person to stimulate that in me :) It's not something I can check off on a list, or put out in a personal ad, its not a characteristic someone has and another doesn't...its just the magic of the interaction that two particular people can have in a particular moment in their lives.

So who is the you that you want to be? Now go find the person that makes it happen!

A Look at Funemployment

I read an article in the paper the other day, which stared me straight in the face and said “Courtney, this is about you”. It was titled “Unemployed? More like Funemployed: Today's out-of-work twenty and thirty-somethings are enjoying their leisure time with ultimate frisbee and travel over getting in the job hunt”. It also had a picture of a young woman working on her tan. Check, check, check, yes you got me.

But I thought I would try to rectify this misconception that it’s so easy and stressfree not being employed. In fact, for some of us, this state of funemployment is not all that different from having a job. Despite not being on someone’s payroll, some of us are still naturally inclined to carry out research in our everyday lives. I recently went out for a walk with a girlfriend of mine and she pointed this out to me. I had confessed to her that despite being unemployed at the moment, having all the time in the world to do nothing, I was overwhelmed. She asked why and I said I was getting carried away by my own curiosity. I kept coming up with different things to do to occupy my time; it’s as if I was trying to get a PhD in relaxation. My friend, also a fellow academic and curious spirit, nonchalantly told me, well that’s just you, you’re a “researcher” and inquisitive so you’re always looking into something new. For the past month I have researched every possible yoga studio in Toronto, every Buddhist meditation centre, vegetarian restaurant, and countless volunteer opportunities that might suit my interests. This is all mixed in with the fact that I’m trying to find a job, maintain my social network, and spend time with my family. Funemployment is exhausting!

But does it have to be this way? How silly (and spoilt) is it to be stressed over planning my cottage hopping weekends and organizing lunch dates!

For the past four days, I was lucky enough to detach myself from the city and head up north to my cottage to enjoy the long overdue summer weather. Up there, my inner researcher was challenged. Hesitantly, my mind paused. It had no resources to tap into. I had no places to go scope out, no websites to get lost in, and no people to network with. Finally, bliss!

Or boredom?

I have to admit, it took me about a day or two to settle into this new frame of mind. With no NOW magazine to read about this month’s exciting events in the city and gmail to whip up some “know of anyone who might be looking for…” type emails, I had to just settle for my book and sit with nature.

I figured, this constant research quest is like an addiction, though slightly less lethal. As soon as I am tempted with the use of the internet or access to what’s going on, my mind goes into a state of excitement, ecstasy at the possibilities that could unfold when I click on the “search” button. But without these resources I was left hanging, a researcher stranded in a space that could not further my goals. Or could it?

As it turned out, this space gave me a chance to reflect. Something that I did really well on my meditation retreats in India, but the difference was, there I went in with the purpose of reflecting and taking time to question what it was that I wanted. Now, I am unemployed and feel like I need to take action fast. But I’ve had to shift this mentality and see slowing down as very worthwhile for its own sake. Everything I learnt in India came back to me. I wasn’t being stimulated by outside things or given the opportunity to plan next week’s “fun” activities. I just had to enjoy doing “nothing”. This made me realize, even when I’m in the city looking for leisurely things to do, that process can be anxiety provoking and stressful. And it doesn’t have to be that way if I balance it with some isolated “me-time”, not being active (or proactive to be more accurate) but rather, reflective.

So over those days at the cottage, I revelled in my funemployment and I spent my time writing and thinking and feeling. I slowed down and was able to really focus. Clarity was the result; without being clouded by distractions I could start to see what it is that I want to achieve this summer and what my future intentions are. I can’t say that I have found all the answers, but I can say that without this “forced” passive time, I would be completely lost in my excessive research and never come up with my main thesis!

The Man Who Plays with Soldiers

A 60 year old man who plays with miniature soldiers, is he nuts or is he a genius?

Like many people, my neighbour has a hobby that he loves. However, it just so happens that is doesn’t fall into the regular category of leisure activities. Unlike those whose downtime might consist of playing golf, reading, or painting, my neighbour plays with little plastic soldiers. The irony is, he is a professional psychologist. While he has made a career out of counselling others on their mental, emotional, and psychological issues, on the outside what he does seems to be not so rock solid. So having most likely seen some of the craziest of crazies out there, one might wonder, how sane is this guy? Would you want someone who spends his free time locked up in the basement playing with miniature militia and obsessing over his new castles to counsel you on your normalcy?

For the past few years, he has come up to our family cottage to use the grounds as his battlefield. He sets up imaginary wars with forts, tanks, and soldiers. Each summer, inevitably we find at least one wounded soldier lost in battle, and inevitably I have to make up some explanation to friends about why a fake plastic soldier is hanging out in our lawn. But for years I have never really questioned his hobby nor really seen it as something worth my consideration. But for some reason, this summer, sitting at the cottage alone with him for the first time, I am really curious what it’s all about.

So lounging in an inner tube in the pond, I ask him and he casually reveals to me the world of war games and miniature battles. I find out it involves attending conferences that bring together all the other (yes, he’s not the only one) likeminded battle guys to discuss ground tactics and castle engineering design! As he patiently answers my questions and goes deeper into sharing his hobby with me I become enthralled. It’s fascinating! I realize “playing” with these toys involves more than just a hap-hazard placement of plastic pieces, it involves researching and re-enacting historic battles, choosing which commands and orders to use, and working out ways to improvise moves to witness a new outcome. So it definitely does have a side that would satisfy someone’s search for the rational, but more importantly, it taps into a side of him that a lot of us (in our quest to grow up) have lost along the way, his inner child.

After talking to him, I began to reflect on where my inner child is. And what a perfect moment to do so, because sitting around the family cottage immediately takes me back to childhood memories. It connects me to the hours upon hours that I would spend using my imagination to create my own fun. I would amuse myself designing pretend offices in the rock wall that lines our swimming pool, using flat rocks as stationary, skinny rocks as staplers, and so on, stretching my creativity as far as it would go. I would spend days in the pool playing mermaid games and designing treasure hunts, and I too would build imaginary cities and fictional scenarios out of miniature figurines, LEGO blocks, and plastic animal toys. In fact, I think that was the most fun summer activity I ever did! So with such a rich bank of memories like this, why am I so quick to judge what my neighbour is doing?

Having just finished my masters and had some time to travel, I’m actually in a point in my life where I’m actively trying to reconnect with my “inner child”. Having spent so many years in academia and prepping my serious side for the real world, making sure I had a good head on my shoulders, I’ve actually realized that what I miss and long for is my old sense of silliness! A feeling of uninhibited, non-resistant freedom and an openness to do the things that grown ups aren’t supposed to do. I suppose it’s a common identity struggle as a 25 year old, trying to be a grown up, establish my adult persona, become independent, become respected by the adult community, but not lose myself along the way.

So as I sit here, on the first day of summer, lounging on a chair in the front lawn, I’m literally scanning my childhood, remembering what fun I could make out of thin air. I’m looking over at a hammock, behind which used to be a sandbox where I would make elaborate sand forts with just one plastic shovel and bucket. To my right is a slight slope in the ground, which seems trivial now, but as a child is was the best toboganning hill around. I would go up and down hundreds of times before getting bored. The plain grassy lawn which now doesn’t seem to be an obvious source of fun, used to be a breeding ground for exciting activities such as flying a kite, doing cartwheels, playing Frisbee, or making obstacles courses for my dog. In the distance I see “beachy” my secret hideout revolving around a big beach tree that I loved to climb. Each branch had a separate function, one was the outlook spot, another was the swinging branch, and another the lounger. I could continue describing all the different ways I entertained myself as a kid, the creative games I played, but in all honesty it’s a sad kind of nostalgia for what I once was able to do. Why don’t I have the urge to play hide and seek?

However, there is still hope! All of this consideration of childhood and imagination has actually made me aware of others that are also tapping in to it. I recently went on a yoga retreat where I met a very well put together women, quite serious on the outside and solid as a rock in her meditation, but surprisingly she was a huge advocate for colouring books! She claimed that it was her time to just be a kid and colour in pictures of fairies without feeling silly or embarrassed. She loved the use of bright colours, the movement of her arms, and above all, the ability to do something with no specific purpose at all. Upon her advice, I went out to Toys R Us and bought myself a 64 set of Crayola crayons to begin colouring again. Why not? Maybe I’ll even invest in some glitter and make a collection of sparkly masterpieces. If I let myself enjoy it again, then maybe this feeling of seriousness will just seem…silly. Obviously, we have our responsibilities as we grow older, we have the practicalities of dealing with finding a job, finding a partner, paying bills, but we also have a responsibility not to become a dried out cookie cutter mould uninspired individual that only seems to have fun by being entertained by something else, drinking, movie going, etc. Ultimately, we should not forget what we enjoyed as a kid.

So back to my friend, the soldier guy. Is he nuts? Well, I would argue that he is in fact one of the brightest and wisest people I know. I admire him for his ability to just do it, to pick up a hobby that looks a little loony on the outside, but is something that gives him immense joy and above all, gets him lined up with his inner child!