Growing up, I was the weird kid because I didn’t fit in with my peers. I was a vegetarian in the 90s and my first-grade teacher announced to the class I didn’t eat meat because I was Jewish. (I think you know this but just in case, the two are not related.) I didn’t grow up in a bastion of diversity and understanding and that’s colored, well, a lot.
As an adult, I let my freak flag fly and usually have no problem standing out. I joke that my biography title should be: “Always the Outlier: The Rebekah Moan Story” because it’s true in 99% of cases that I’m the outlier. Over the past few weeks though, I notice parts of me are scared to be vulnerable and authentic. I realize a lot of people feel that way but that’s an unusual feeling for me. Normally, I don’t have a problem saying, “This is me. Here’s how I’m feeling,” but some parts of me feel terrified to do that because I’m worried people will run away screaming if I do.
When I shared that with a friend, she said, “Yeah because I haven’t seen the real you in our eight years of friendship.” I never said it made sense but that’s what wounding does. It makes us irrational. I’ve been ruminating over my experiences and a strong memory emerged from second grade when my music teacher went around the room and asked every child what their favorite music genre was. One by one, every child said, “country,” including me, even though I couldn’t name a country song to save my life. What I meant to say was “oldies” because that’s what my parents played around the house but I didn’t because the pressure to fit in was too great.
You belong somewhere, I promise. Photo by Annie Williams on Unsplash
Here’s the thing though – sure, in that setting every child said “country” but that doesn’t mean every child everywhere would have answered in the same way. I didn’t realize at that time I wasn’t weird, it’s more that I didn’t have anything in common with the people around me. That’s different. People who shared my interests existed in the world even if I didn’t go to school with them. What’s helping me to remember this is I organized a Zoom meetup for the young people in my spiritual community.
In our small group, we had people joining from London, Copenhagen, Moscow, and all over the U.S. Within the U.S., some people originally hailed from India, the Philippines, and Brazil. Only a handful of people live geographically close to me, which feels like the greatest gift, but also knowing there are people like me who live far away is a gift. It reminds me I do belong and there is a place for me. When I share that with the parts of me that feel like a weirdo, loser freak, they feel better too because I imagine a thread connecting me to each and every person in the world who is like me.
There’s a quote from C.S. Lewis who said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one!’” Precisely. You’re not the only one even if sometimes it feels that way. You aren’t the only one even if the people around you are into different things. You already belong right here, right now and I hope you can feel that.
I dream of a world where we recognize someone, somewhere is into the things we’re into. A world where we remember that just because the people around us are into different things doesn’t mean we’re weird. A world where we recognize we may be far apart from the people who are most like us, but those people do exist. A world where we remember we already belong.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Belonging is on my mind a lot these days. I think in part it’s because I’m still unemployed. I interview somewhere and they assess whether I’m a good fit for them and I assess whether they’re a good fit for me. Thus far nowhere has been a match. It’s tough to be rejected so many times, especially when the stakes are so high. The way our society is set up you have to have money to survive. I realize there are workarounds with bartering and such, but my electric company isn’t keen on receiving an astrology reading in lieu of payment for my electric bill. So. Gotta have that green.
You know how some people talk about eating rejection for breakfast? Or how some authors kept all their rejections from publishing houses as an “I’ll show them” gesture? Yeah, I’m not one of those people. Each rejection stings and with each rejection I take it as a personal affront there’s something wrong with me. “What did I say wrong during the interview? What was bad about my résumé or writing sample?” Everything becomes about me and a reflection of how I’m terrible.
An apropos sign. Photo by Amer Mughawish on Unsplash.
This shame-based place culminates in feeling like an outsider because if I’m wrong then someone else is right. There must be a “correct” way to do things, right? Except what keeps knocking around in my head is my post from last week — how the universe comes to know itself through me. If that’s true, can I truly be wrong or right? Can I really be an outsider?
While watching a youtube video of Charles Eisenstein talking about the burning of the Amazon, he said there’s a larger intelligence that knows where to put you in its healing. As soon as he said that, my eyes welled up because it reminded me my life is so much bigger than me. Maybe I’m right where I am meant to be, even if that’s jobless. And also my placement at a company is not only about my skills and talents, it’s also about where I’ll be of the most use, the most service, the most healing.
Where I fit, where I belong, is not only where I want to be, what I want to do, it’s also about the universe or my higher power. Where does higher power think I should be? Where does the universe think I’ll be of most use in coming to know itself and also for its healing? I belong where I am. If I’m here, now, that’s where I’m meant to be. It’s a hard pill to swallow because sometimes the present moment is painful but that doesn’t mean something is out of sync. After all, just think of childbirth.
I wish I could say after writing this post I suddenly feel completely at home and at ease in my self, my body, my life, but I don’t. What I can say though is I feel marginally better that’s good enough for me.
I dream of a world where we realize we’re exactly who we’re supposed to be and exactly where we’re meant to be. A world where we realize the universe puts us where we’ll best aid in its healing and that means even if it doesn’t feel like it, we still belong.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This is semi-related but first of all, have you seen this video of a flock of starlings, also called a murmuration? If not, please watch it because it’s awesome in the truest sense of the word.
Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
This weekend I had the good fortune of being surrounded by folks who practice the same yoga and meditation I do. We were all close in age with only ten years between the eldest and the youngest. It was a delicious weekend because we had excellent food, but also because it was one of the rare times I was surrounded by a large group of people who I’m very similar too. Sure, I’ve been to tons of yoga and meditation retreats but it’s not as if I’m friends with everyone there like at the gathering this weekend.
I had so much fun this weekend and I bring it up because gatherings like these give me hope for the future. If you’ve been reading AWIP for a while you know I had a rough childhood socially. I had some friends but most of them lived far away. I suffered from a lot of peer rejection and self-defined as the “weird” kid. Not because I ate paste or anything, but because I’m extremely sensitive to energy and cared about things like vegetarianism as an eight-year-old. “Weird” is a title I’ve carried with me for much of my life. Inherent in “weird” is not fitting in or being an outsider. I’ve been shifting my focus away from that because I see how much viewing myself as “weird” has been harmful. This weekend was a prime example because I didn’t feel out of place, I realized it just took me a while to find my flock; as in “Birds of a feather flock together.” For someone who’s felt on the outside for most of her life to finally have a sense of belonging is a thing of beauty.
I know there’s a lot of talk about the necessity of cross pollination, of mixing different classes, races, and mindsets, which I completely agree with, but there’s also something to be said for being with people who get you. People who already have a shared understanding of where you’re coming from so there’s no need to explain things to them. People who love and support you and just want to see you happy. It’s a beautiful and touching thing, that sort of community. So I guess in essence that’s what inspires me most. That someone who constantly defined herself as “different” could find herself around other “different” people. That so much love and support could be given and received. Like those starlings who created new shapes by flying together, when people join in groups, beautiful things can happen. Because ultimately even the “loners” and “freaks” will find others like them. It may just take a while. In essence, no one is as alone as they think they are. And when a bird finds its flock there’s great power in that.
I dream of a world where everyone feels a sense of community and belonging. A world where every person has a support network. A world where no one has to fend for themselves because we are all taking care of each other. A world where we can all live happy, joyous, and free. A world where we can all fly with a flock that fits us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.