The word “outcast” has been on the forefront of my mind. I keep thinking about the ones who just don’t belong; the ones who feel like a puzzle piece that was misplaced a long time ago and the puzzle has long since been thrown away. There are the underdogs, the ones who blend in and go unnoticed, behaving like door mats for other, more important people to wipe their feet on. What of the ones who never get chosen for a team? Imagine the pain of the fellow who stands waiting for his name to be called, and when finally he hears it it’s because there is nobody else to choose, and the one doing the choosing rolls his eyes and purses his lips because now this one, the unpickable, is going to make the team lose. Some find themselves in miserable circumstances completely out of their control. Others are lacking in social skills and there are those who are deficient when it comes to raw materials or the right tools. Many are all alone without another soul to hug, and many find themselves in crowds, surrounded by people and touched on every side and yet isolated and friendless. Maybe they called it time up when you were ten metres from the finish line and so you didn’t get the medal as happens in the Comrades Marathon. There are those that feel trapped and believe they will never get ahead and succeed; they are stuck in a traffic jam and the open roads are nothing but a dream. Some are so hopelessly ordinary and instead of enjoying that gift they live in the shadow and frown of those who have been recognised. Priceless Creations with beating hearts are moving about believing they are of no consequence.
It seems there is a ranking system and I wonder if absolutely everyone is falling short in one way or another. Sometimes I think to myself: Who is the boss around here anyway, telling us how we should live our lives and leading the applause when we climb to the top of the never ending ladder? Maybe everyone is looking at you wishing they had your life but even you are at the end of yourself. I see that Prince Harry has a memoir coming out entitled “Spare” and it makes me wonder if even royal bloods are susceptible to these feelings of inferiority that claw away at all our impressive substance like a decaying tooth; once strong and whole and in position but now wobbling and hurting with a big hole in the middle that only a professional can fix.
I can imagine that even if all the magazines are writing about you and they keep calling you up on stage to receive your prize, there are overcast days and dark nights when you believe you are a nothing and a nobody. So often it doesn’t even add up. We can understand why the guy with missing teeth doesn’t get chosen for the toothpaste advert, or why the one with acne scars cannot be the model for designer sunglasses, and shame for him! His looks don’t tell us anything about his tender heart, brilliant mind and fabulous sense of humour. The trouble is, there is a good chance that the world’s natural beauties, the ones that the world has decided are at the top of the game, are not as satisfied with themselves as we think they might be. One look at the lives of the rich and famous and all the drug overdoses and plastic surgeries gone wrong gives us a little clue as to how things might be behind the scenes. Oh to be thinner, with fuller lips and a beauty spot in the right place. Oh for the curly locks to be straight, and vice versa. Fashion is as changeable as the seasons and as the centuries roll by what was once considered delightful would be considered far too much now. Who says curvy hips, round knees and dimpled elbows are too much? Who says you must be hungry to be lovely? Plus size models and photo shoots revealing the undone side of our lives are doing much for uncovering the charm of what is untamed and un-airbrushed and it’s heartening. Nobody should be starving in order to be called gorgeous. Starvation is a problem needing a solution not a means to an end where some will nod approvingly that you have made it and others will weep because they are solidly built and will never fit into small enough clothes.
Perhaps you have found yourself without beauty and brains and you are not strong or rich or fast, but you have something!There is so much magnificence as far as humanity goes, and I feel like it has been robbed and continues to be robbed as we believe a lie.In all your self doubt and negative talk I urge you to listen carefully for another sound track that is playing. When “The Greatest Showman” came out on the big screen, people could not stop going to watch it. One viewing was not enough for that movie. We sang the songs and we danced the dances. It resonated deeply! We love it when the underdog wins and much as we cheered because the ones cast aside had found their place, we breathed a sigh of relief because we are all a little odd, truth be told. We too can be phenomenal.
A while ago, I began to intentionally watch the sun go down every evening. For no other reason than to be present and to stop during the time of day that I have told myself there is no time to stop. Not necessarily as part of a sundowner ritual with others, more just the sun and me, alone, for a few moments. I am learning to say no to all kinds of demands that nobody in particular is making on me because, somewhere along the line I assumed that if I don’t keep up and spin on this hamster wheel as fast as I can, then I will fall off and never catch up again. The same sun that winks goodnight to me comes swelling up over the edge of the world and the banana trees beyond our bedroom window and another chance is granted. Every. Single. Morning. Opportunity hangs before me like a plump, ripe, blushing, unstung peach just begging to be plucked from it’s branch. The newness of the day washes away the thought that I might ever be behind or backwards and instead I realise that I am actually not even running a horizontal race, squashed on every side by other runners and falling more and more behind until I might be last. I am climbing and jumping from rock to rock and falling into clear, refreshing pools of water when I least expect it and there is nobody else on this particular track, no competition whatsoever. Just me and my bare feet like a drumbeat alongside the swishing of leaves and the bubbling of a brook. It’s not a race where some win and some lose. It’s a race in that there is, indeed, a finish line and a crown waiting for each one of us, but it’s a race against ourselves, a glorious journey of discovery. A chance to be the best we can be, not a flimsy version of the person we admire. Social norms have, seemingly, done as much harm as good. We would do well to listen out for the Creator’s voice above all the other voices vying for our attention.
I watch the children, the little ones. Jaunty chins. Shoulders back. Deep breaths filling their bellies. Eyes up. Spring in their steps. Flick of the hair. Punch the air. Skip and dance. Lie down and watch the clouds or the creatures in amongst the grains of sand. Spontaneous. Laughing. Playing, playing and playing some more. Moving where the wind blows. The children seem to operate from a place of lightness. They are affirmed and nurtured and they thrive. They have not learnt that if they think out the box or defy an adult they may get rapped on the knuckles. They do not know that there are unspoken rules and that people will frown at you if you do not conform. I’m sure the psychologists know all about it. I am falling short of words to express what I am troubled by. I am sure the studies have been done, and yet I cannot imagine what the conclusion was. Who tells us to conform? Perhaps it begins with the ones who love us most – the mother and father who we have sent into sleep deprivation and who still have places to go and things to do, but now with a bag and a pram and boxes of snacks and one or two little ones throwing tantrums, unexpectedly. What about the teachers who genuinely care and yet they need to control the crowd, so it’s much easier if everyone settles down and behaves in a mouldable way like play dough rather than the unbridled waves of the ocean. Who said it’s not proper to do a handstand against a wall on the high street, and if you do people will either stare, or they will deliberately not stare and quickly hurry by, closing their children’s eyes in case you are about to do something even more bizarre? We stand in lines and put our hands up to go to the toilet; we study and pass exam after exam and make money and buy cars and go on holidays and pay off mortgages until the life is just about walloped out of us. We shake hands, kiss on the cheek and tell everyone we are just fine even if we are not.
Proverbs 30 verses 24 to 28
Four things on earth are small,
yet they are extremely wise:
ants are creatures of little strength, yet they store up their food in the summer;
conies are creatures of little power yet they make their home in the crags;
locusts have no king, yet they advance together in ranks;
a lizard can be caught with the hand, yet it is found in king’s palaces.
There is a thread here that’s giving me huge hope for all of us – the ones who are failing and the ones who are doing great but believe they are failing anyway. Just because we are small or weak, it doesn’t mean that we cannot be mighty. Just because we seemingly have nothing going for us, does not mean that we are destined for a life that is meaningless. Just because we cannot seem to keep up with the pack, it doesn’t mean that our lives are of no account. Surprisingly, it sounds like the very opposite is true!
The tiny ants – tireless, constantly moving, lifting weights many times their own weight. We walk about not even aware that they are underfoot and yet if we stooped down to their level to watch, we would see something impressive and learn something about work ethic that no man could teach as well. Not leaving for tomorrow what can be done today. Working double so that resting double can occur in a time when plants are not growing and the food is simply not available. Minute little heads, yet understanding the seasons to such a degree that they will lose sleep now so that they can rest and feast later.
The conies have little power and yet they make their homes in areas we would fear to tread. The uneven, the jagged, the rugged untrodden paths. The places where raw, untouched beauty thrives because it’s impossible for travellers to get there and ruin it all; that’s where the weak ones live. Do you see the complicated simplicity of all this? We think we are inferior because we are weak and not strong and yet that very fact allows us into places that others have not considered and are, indeed, unable to even get to. The very things we have called our failures and vices and downfalls are, in fact, positioning us in a place of favour and blessing.
The locusts without a king catch my attention most of all. They have no one to rule over them and yet, instinctively, know that united they stand. They advance together, a mighty wall in number, a formidable beast in contrast to one feeble locust. I saw a shoal of fish in a National Geographic magazine doing just that – building a vast body of tiny fish packed together, so intimidating to a passing whale that in order to save face he probably made a decision to just swim right past, pretending he hadn’t seen them. One little locust, very easily trodden on by the careless stomp of a schoolboy’s shoe – ten thousand locusts in rank, let’s just run inside and hide. They have no king, but they are a force to be reckoned with, advancing together, each one in position for its individual well-being as well as the greater good. “Stick together” mothers all over the world tell their children, and it’s wise advice.
Remember that lizard – small, fragile, cold and scaly and yet he has absolute freedom to move from the damp, mossy floor of the woods on the outskirts of town to the polished marble floor of the king’s palace. His obscurity allows him unrestricted access to areas where others need permission, passports and invitations. There is favour on his life to move about as he wishes, following the sun as it travels across the sky and settling into a warm crevice in the wall somewhere at night. He carries none of the anxiety of the one in charge of the palace and yet he can live there if he chooses to. His sleep is deep, his heart is light and he finds himself in a sweet spot. His smallness is not to be despised, it is his lucky ticket.
Oh, let’s engage in conversations about what is genuine success, true beauty and actual strength. Let’s stop applauding what is commonly held in high regard, and train our eyes to see the unsung heroes. I am on the lookout for what is authentic – my eyes, ears and heart are hungry for it. I am looking for wool and cotton rather than man-made fabrics like nylon and polyester that get static and stick to my legs. I want to hear, again, the story of Henry V and his motley band of ‘soldiers’ that went to war and then a miracle happened. I want to dream of the shepherd boy who killed an enemy giant when all he was asked to do was take his big, soldier brothers their lunch. My favourite story as a child was the one about the little Dutch boy who stopped Holland from being drowned. Talk about unlikely legends!
Like the ants, conies, locusts and lizards – let’s embrace this life we have been given. We can accept our limitations without living defeated. It’s about full bellies and sound sleep in the winter, vistas as far as the eyes can see, safety in numbers and living free. The extraordinary events that occur, thereafter, have nothing to do with favourable conditions, being important or qualified, the biggest or the best and everything to do with God’s mysteries, being in the right place at the right time, and a little bit of courage.
“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things – and the things that are not – to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before Him.” (1 Corinthians 1 verse 27.)
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