The other day, after dropping Middle Girl at Preschool, I walked home. It was raining out, the streets a slick, soggy mess, but I stopped because I saw something: A little white pigeon.
I am not sure exactly what it was about this particular bird that got me, but I paused and fished around in my bag for my phone to take a picture. Maybe it was that it was unlike most pigeons I see (or don’t see), pigeons that are shades of gray, and camouflaged by the sidewalks on which they scamper. Maybe it was because I was extra-aware, my eyes open to details I otherwise miss. I’m not so sure.
But there was something different about this pigeon. Sure, she was white and not just any white, but a bold beautiful white, pure as snow. And she did a little dance around and around.
And of course I couldn’t leave it at that, that there was a charming pigeon on my stroll home. No. Suddenly, I was thinking about sameness and difference, conspicuousness and camouflage.
Once upon a time, I think I was intent on blending in, on being one of the crew, a blondie, a black-wearer. Safe. More and more though, I feel a desire to be me even if that means I stand out a bit more. Like that little white bird.
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Are you willing to be different? Have you at any point in your life tried to blend in? Are you aware of the little details in your days?
This is so interesting. There are parts of me that yearn to be different – to follow my dreams and my heart and my passions (be it for teaching, writing, fun extracurriculars like concerts and hockey games and camping, etc.) – and part of me that yearns for sameness. I think that it is hard to sometimes differentiate between the two. I also think, that in a world that encourages uniqueness of people, it is hard to remember that it’s okay to be the “same” if that’s what you’re passionate about and what you think is right.
Definitely some good things to think about today. Thanks!
I love that I read this post while my one-year-old is watching the episode of Sesame Street where Big Bird isn’t allowed into the Good Birds Club for being different, only to realize he’s happy just the way he is.
It’s interesting because one of your Friday Loves was that article about the lasting psychological effects of high school. Being different, in middle school, high school, college, has defined my life in both positive and negative ways. I mean, I grapple with this issue so fully that I’ve made my screenwriting living so far out of writing movies/TV about people who are a little different (Sydney White, Legally Blondes, Pushing Daisies, and a whole bunch of stuff that hasn’t gotten made yet).
In the best possible way, being different for as long as I can remember has made me fearless. I was never popular, but always managed to find friends who loved my odd sense of style, my weird sense of humor, my frizzy Jewish hair. So I’ve been able to go through life knowing I’ll always find those people — the lasting ones who want to fly their freak flags alongside you. So it enabled me to find a different career path far from the identical gray suits of Manhattan. In a town full of drama nerds and musical theater geeks just like me. And in the worst possible way, sometimes the tiny person inside me looks at how my life has turned out and whispers in my head, “You’ve shown them. Anyone who ever thought you were too strange. Or not pretty. Or just plain uncool. And you’l keep showing ‘em.” And that’s where I can’t get away from the negative side of being different. There’s always a still, small, sad voice who always wanted to fit in.
And in the end, I guess, what’s good to hear is that even the people who so easily blend in, yearn to fly their freak flag. And yearn to love their inner freak.
This is a really nicely constructed and thoughtful post. I will now embrace my inner pigeon.
While I don’t try to blend in, I don’t think I really stand out, either. That said, ‘m definitely willing to be different when it comes to my thoughts and words. I try to be respectful of many different views, but I’m also not afraid to stand up for what I believe to be right. It’s gotten me in trouble over the years and I continue to learn how to speak freely while also being sensitive to those around me.
For me sameness is not about being ‘the same’ as others… Sameness is (tragically) about one day being the same as the other. Or, this year being the same as the last one. Few more posts from you might be just what I need to get this sad, sad existence into shape…