On(e for my) misfits & week 28 of 52

misfit: a person whose behavior or attitude sets them apart from others in a conspicuous way.

by La Balaur

“Why it's simply impassible!
Alice: Why, don't you mean impossible?
Door: No, I do mean impassible. (chuckles) Nothing's impossible!”
― Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass

Maybe it’s the Batman villains taking over the leadership of the U.S., maybe it’s the mass adoption of AI and its subsequent impact on the environment and our waning social responsibility—not to mention creativity, maybe it’s the three-day migraine I had last week, or maybe it’s some combination…

All I know is that something recently nudged me into a sense of vulnerability reminiscent of my past, and the subsequent insights were hard-won.

I’ve been reliving and reevaluating, digging deep into self-evaluation and reflection because I feel a strong call to action. It’s possible that many writers and artists feel this—a desire to advocate and pave the way toward a better social world, and we realize how necessary it is to take action. But it’s getting harder to be heard.

I wrote this CTA a few weeks ago. I stand by it, but I want to acknowledge the other side of this emotional and social equation and create a different call to action, mostly for myself. But if it resonates and you find yourself at odds with the trends, it’s your CTA, too.

Let’s embrace the misfit energy. Let’s seek it out and celebrate it.

Being a misfit takes courage. Courage is necessary. And for the artists whose heckles are going up right now because they think they can’t, I disagree. In a world of curated algorithms, we need to be willing to stand out.

If you think you don’t have courage, you’re wrong. When we don’t have a choice, we find the courage.

When I was a kid, my neighborhood was not safe, especially as I began to approach puberty. I was a small person who loved to walk to collect her thoughts. But wandering by myself then often meant being approached by shady older men with shadier intentions; no matter my self-belief, I had to be on guard and decide whether their claims on my value were true.

“I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then…”
― Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

When a person is surrounded by distortion, internal clarity is still possible. But we do need to be aware. Otherwise, we lose ourselves.

I’ll admit. I lost myself when I was younger.

At one time, I was a misfit trying to fit in. I believed I was broken because I let those around me defined me. Losing myself as I tried to fit in wasn’t the painful part either. Breaking away from that conformity was.

Once I sought to steer my course no matter what, things got EVEN tougher.

For me, anyway, being true to myself meant steering a rickety-ass boat with no compass on choppy waters. It wasn’t like the self-help gurus promised. There was no obvious “alignment.” It meant rebelling and facing what I feared head-on. It meant being where I was but being uncomfortable.

Blue boat on the sea in Cambodia by Jonathan

But I had to do it because I knew I’d have a better chance of getting somewhere new.

We live in an age in which it’s easy to give away a lot of our power in the name of convenience, and very few people are making a lot of money and gaining a lot of power accordingly.

I get it! Comfort is addictive. So is complacency. And so is a feeling that we are safer where we are than where we’d be if we were showing up in a bigger way, navigating the unfamiliar, rickety-ass boat we’ve been offered.

It might be true that it’s safer in the short term. It was true in my case. But the pain is worth it. I promise.

Subscribe now

I’ve been studying with David Whyte for the last few weeks, and he offered our group a Koan that went something like this (butchering it, I’m sure): Where have you been the most foolish? And how, in those foolish moments, were you actually wise?

For me, the answer was my willingness to be humiliated. It took courage and a bit of foolishness, but when I broke away from trying to fit in, I began to fall into purpose.

I hope to one day share my full story as it is meant to be shared because I’m finally ready. But for now, I’ll leave it vague and invite you to think about yourself—how are the parts of you that feel different, embarrassing, awkward, or wrong actually right?

To build on David’s prompt, where is the wisdom within shame or humiliation?

Standing out can be incredibly painful. But then, it’s not. And then, so much later, the pain no longer matters. It doesn’t matter because it’s that beautiful.

Be awkward.

Be the misfit no matter how shaky it feels.

Be in integrity, even if it means a willingness to be seen as a little crazy.

Or really crazy.

After all, as I say (paraphrased) in WAU, it’s the world that’s truly crazy. And as J. Krishnamurti said long before me, “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”

AYTL: How can you lean into your version of being a misfit? Answer in action.

Writing prompt: Journal about what authenticity means to you. Where in your life are you most authentic? Who and when do you shrink away from yourself, even for a moment? Why? Where can you find strength?

Posting early because I’ll be gone for the holiday. Wishing you a joyous and safe one. xo