Most People…


What if we’re not “most people”? I have developed a very strong distaste for this phrase.  Why is that supposed to make us comply when someone tells us “most people” do this, say this, act this way? Who is supposed to want that, and why? Everybody wants to be unique, swears they are, and still goes through the day like “most people”. It’s depressing to see and participate in such nonsense.

I say screw that noise. Time to recalibrate.

Most people let their relationships peter off (no pun intended) into something that resembles the coyote and the sheepdog cartoon where they say hey to each other and clock in and out. We get up every morning and make it through the work day. We make ends meet. We vacation once a year like our friends do, we drink or smoke or talk shit like our friends do…so we blend. In our own unique way of course.

If we refuse to conform, we do it like our friends do. We even rebel like most people do. We accept as normal the kind of life situations that we might want to re-think if we aren’t most people.

Being most people had me waking up in the morning wondering why the hell I did.

True community, friendship and love comes from authentic people bringing their various gifts and personalities to the mix and strengthening the whole. We bring our strengths into the weave of us and become a marvelous equation of change. We have conversations that stimulate our minds and alter our perceptions…because we’re not most people.

I’ve had people tell me to get a grip; life is not a fairy tale.

What? I’m battling dragons, and demons and trying to recover from the poisonous apple that put me to sleep longer than Rip Van Winkle. I’m growing the hair long enough to get me out of the tower, daring the wolf to blow my house down, I just escaped from the troll under the damn bridge and life is not a fairy tale? Where do you think they come from I ask? Life experiences.

Most people don’t believe in fairy tales. They believe what most people do. Secretly they wonder how to get free of the ogre of discontent, the controlling witch or the asshole of a warlock. But they won’t admit it. They ponder the myths of narcissism, Hades and Pandora’s box and refuse to see the truth behind it all.

None of us are “most people”. We just act like it to play it safe.

We hide the wonder we feel, the magic we hold, the dreams we have. We press ourselves between the pages of “most people” living like a dried flower to reflect upon fondly when we grow old. Might I offer another option?

Why don’t we take root in ourselves and bloom?

 

 

 

 

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