People say I’m weird.

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O hay, I’m 41 years old!

The upside of living a life virtually free of categories and self-pigeonholing is that you feel limitless, seeing the brilliance of such a vast array of fun and intriguing ideas, arts, and lifestyles, teetering on the brink of esotericism, all of which merging themselves into my very being. Or something like that. Words are hard.

The downside is that you don’t know where you belong. Society tells us we should belong somewhere or to belong to something. Even people who consider themselves to be rebellious or alternative have more of a sense of belonging than I do. But somewhat to my dismay, my brain says, “Pfff who cares?”

Sometimes it’s kinda lonely. Relating to people is hard.

Then people would be inclined to ask me about the acupuncture or Taoist communities, and why don’t I just hang out with them. To be honest, I practice those things in my own way, and so I find many fellow practitioners of both arts irritating sometimes. But don’t mistake that for being mean or self righteous or elitist, I just have this annoying thing about me that takes an idea and does with it what I want, like it’s a piece of play-doh, to be bent and shaped for my own personal use, to fit my personality or lifestyle.

But shouldn’t all things be that way?

Even my military service is weird. Who’s ever heard of a practitioner of healing and spiritual arts bringing those ideas to the military and succeeding in at least the unit level?

I’m just weird. I even weird out my dog. A lot of people think I’m weird. They even tell me. But what I think is weird is when people think they’re normal. Normalcy is weird.

Stay weird.

*high-fives Chuang Tzu*

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