To Those Who are Different

image

If you are reading these words maybe it’s because you saw the title and thought, “That’s me, I’m different.” Maybe you said it with sadness. Maybe you feel like your differences have set you apart from the rest of the world and you feel alone. I want to tell you why you should say, “I’m different” with enthusiasm and joy.

At some point in history we were made to believe that it was acceptable to believe in a cookie cutter type of beauty. Beauty could be defined by some as a lack of “imperfections”. The world has gone so crazy over this concept that the appearance of people already believed to fit into the acceptable category of beauty is altered. Bodies are trimmed to a desired build, hair is colored, cut, or even added to obtain “perfection” and even the face can be altered to fit the mold. Everywhere we look we see some mythical idea of beauty. By accepting these preconceived ideals, we are denying ourselves the opportunity to witness the true beauty around us. Natural beauty. Beauty that shines so brightly on the inside, it dulls the watching world.

I want you to imagine what it looks like when you step out your front door. When I step out of mine, I step out onto my front porch. I have a swing and a wicker chair there. I can see my flowers, hear the cars driving by on my busy street, and I can barely see the horizon of the sky. The quaint buildings of our small village don’t allow me to see the wide angle view of nature but I still get to see several types of trees that line the main street in our village. The smells and sounds differ from day to day as we are a community that thrives on farming and livestock. I frequently hear a train roll through as we live only a block from the tracks. I love where I live. How about you? What do you see? Maybe you live where I have always dreamed of living, slightly isolated in a valley with a majestic view of a mountain? Or maybe you live where you had always dreamed, in a city alive with the noise of life. Maybe you don’t like what you see and are still dreaming of being elsewhere. No matter where you are, there is something to see once you step outside. Nature. Nature is all it’s own and it has been here long before we changed the landscapes outside our doors. It is full of splendid diversity. We can photoshop and edit pictures of nature but nothing compares to the real thing. A photo lacks the depth of being surrounded by the actual beauty of nature. Would the mountain look less majestic if a rock were to crumble off the face? Is the stream less blue if the leaves of fall float on its surface? Do we refuse to gaze upon the rise of an ancient tree because it’s bark has been worn from the animals that shelter in its branches?

image

If your answer is “no” then I ask why our own differences are seen as anything less than beautiful. Why is a smile less warming if the face that wears it has a blemish upon it’s skin? Is the body any less than amazing just because it rests in a wheelchair rather than on two feet? Why is a the shaved head of a cancer patient less desirable than that of someone with a full head of hair? Beauty can no longer be defined by the masses idea of beauty, but by nature. The differences of all of us are natural. Why are we trying to change that? There is so much to appreciate when we step out our doors and take time to look at the unending differences of nature, isn’t it time we do the same with each other?

image

Beauty isn’t just what you see in a magazine, it is the resilience of the human spirit, the beauty in our personal journey. Beauty is what the journey teaches us and how it transforms us from the inside. Beauty is the scars we bare from physical and emotional wounds earned in battle. True beauty is held by those who have been stripped to their soul and have seen life in a new light. Beauty is not worn on the face or seen upon a pouty lip, it is deep within the heart. Beauty is carried by those who have given all of themselves and have opened their eyes to what really makes taking a breath priceless. Indeed it’s seeing how wonderful it is to be a unique individual.

image

We are on the brink of redefining so many things, it is about time we start redefining this archaic definition of beauty. It is time we love what makes ourselves and others unique. It is time to wake up and look at what makes you different and say, “no one else is like me” and celebrate it. Don’t be discouraged by differences. They really aren’t differences, diversity in all of us needs to be as natural as those in nature. The rocks will crumble on the mountain, so too will our bodies become brittle, but they are both beautiful. Not all birds have the ability to fly, but they are still birds just as we are no less human if we cannot walk. Hundreds of different flowers lining a hillside are not dedined as ugly because each one is different so why are some defined as such?

image

If you feel different, celebrate because you were meant to be different. Every person was meant to be unique. To define beauty in a narrow perimeter is unnatural and ridiculous and it needs to stop. We are part of the beauty and artwork of nature but yet we define our beauty on different terms. It makes no sense.

If you feel too different to be beautiful, please know that you are special because there is no one like you and there never will be again. You are like one of those thousands of flowers that grow wild in nature, without you, the hillside wouldn’t be as splendid. You are splendid, because you are you.

*d*

A Ride Called “Disease”

A group of teenagers push wildly through the crowd and down the fair midway. At the tail end of the group, a reluctant girl is holding the hand of a boy sporting a cheesy grin. “Come on,” he pleads as he pulls her hand in the direction of the rides.

“I really don’t want to,” she insists as her steps narrow and her pace slows. Both eventually stop to talk and after a pathetic glance from the boy, she relaxes her shoulders in submission and follows. He spots his friends rough housing in front of the ferris wheel. She protest, “No, I don’t like those things and this one doesn’t look safe.”

“Awww, it’s fine,” he coaxes. She could sense the doubt in his voice.

“Come on!!” the group taunts as she sides her way into line. The ride is old, very old. It has been a right of passage for many other teens. The long held tradition has included rocking, screaming, and bouncing the rickety ride as if to dare it to crumble.

“Don’t move our seat,” she whispered abruptly as they loaded.

“Sure,” he assured as he sheepishly grinned to his buddy in the next seat. Not long after they loaded, the rowdy group began screaming and yelling but they remained still until the last seat was loaded. None took the chance of being kicked of the ride prematurely. After the old ride was started and at full speed, the chaos started. Violent shaking, bouncing, and attempts to stand up over the seat bar began. The operator began shouting but they continued on. The girl held tight to her boyfriend’s arm but his assurance to remain still did not last. He began flipping the seat forward as hard as he could and she began to scream in fear.

“Let me off, I want off now!” she demanded as she drew as far from him as she possibly could. Her trust had been broken.

“We’re just having some fun,” he said as the ride came to an abrupt stop. The operator was now cursing as he began unloading the riders. An argument between the girl and her boyfriend ensued. He offered a half hearted apology only after she began to cry. His remorse lasted until he was reunuted with his group of friends at the base of the ride. Then he sneered and thanked her for embarrassing him in front of his friends. He turned away abruptly and lead the group down the fairway, the girl crying while scurrying behind. In confusion, her focus now became how she could make it up to him.

***

I can definately relate to this story as I was that confused teenage girl years ago. Thank goodness I can laugh about it now and I am thankful that I have matured but that isn’t the point I am trying to make.

Instead this story is quite the apologue of the last few months of my life. A few months ago, I reluctanly stepped onto a rusty, old ferris wheel. It’s name was “Disease”. Despite it’s unsafe appearance, I convinced myself that I would be okay with “Disease”. Soon I had a passenger and it’s name was fear. I thought I had made peace with “Disease” and I wondered why fear had joined me.

“It’s okay, sit with me,” fear assured, “I’m a friend.”

“Disease” creaked and groaned but I didn’t get too nervous. I was familiar with the ride and I knew a few of the other reluctant riders. Then when the chaos broke out, I pulled myself closer to fear. “That’s right,” fear hissed as it violently began flipping my seat forward. I held tight to fear as the violent forward motion made me feel as if I were going to fall from my seat. Yet, I felt no comfort and my fears increased tenfold. The high and low of the ride now felt like they were coming too quickly. I was now frozen and with fear. I wanted off the ride, now! 

I began devising my own plan to escape. In the meantime, I tried to find some other way to brace myself safely into the seat. I couldn’t see anything, nor could I move. Something was sabotaging my safety. It was the fear still strapped in beside me. Not only  strapped in, but I was still locking arms with it. I had put all my trust in fear only to be deceived. I felt as betrayed as the girl in my story, but I knew I had to let it go. It was only when I let go that I could clearly see; and when I looked, I saw my son. He was riding alone in another seat. I had forgot about him.

Yet, there he sat looking out alone beyond “Disease”. I was staring at him while he began to make his way to the top. As he approached the top, he began to clap, and yell “Woo hoo!” He was happy and I was puzzled.  He wasn’t focused on the ride, he was focused on the view. He could certainly see the sky, the stars, the entire world from his vantage point.

For the first time, I slowly sat back and decided to try to see “Disease” as my son saw it. As I reached the top as he did shortly before, I was amazed of the view “Disease” gave me. I could see life from a vantage point few others could experience. Once I released fear, I was able to appreciate the view. Without fear, every movemment no longer made me nervous. I remained focused with my head held high. As I looked  I finally “got it” and I won’t soon forget what my little boy taught me about “Disease”. It can change you by fear or change your perspective. Fear wants to destroy and I’d much rather follow his example and keep living despite of fear.

Unlike the example in my story, my happiness didn’t have to be defined by who sat closest to me. My focus needed to be on anything that helped me break free from my own immaturity of the situation. Isn’t it amazing how my little boy helped change my heart and lead by example? “Woo hoo!”

*d*

image