How do you come to terms with the fact that you’re just ordinary?

I was asked “How do you come to terms with the fact that you’re just ordinary?” 

My answer is: Help others.

Very few people actually do this. That means that you’ll no longer be ordinary. In fact, you may appear to be extraordinary in the eyes of those you help. You can help build houses, give blood, raise money, visit isolated folks in nursing homes, staff phone banks. The need is literally endless.

Another possible side effect of helping others is that you’ll stop worrying so much about whether or not you’re ‘just ordinary,’ or how you appear to others. Knowing that you are contributing to the world can help you worry less about how others see you. 

Do a web search on ‘volunteer opportunities near me.’ you’re almost certain to find something that appeals to you. 

What is the hardest truth you had to accept?

That I wasn’t special. I was brought up by a mom who (apparently) thought that teaching her kids that they were special would make them feel better. I don’t know what effect it had on my siblings, but I spent a lot of time expecting people to like me for my imagined special qualities.

My relationships (and my life) improved a lot once I realized that it’s how you treat others that makes you worth knowing, not your specialness.

Seeing history

I’ve been thinking about how I’ve seen history at various stages of my life.

Grammar school: History is a long series of headlines & dates & names to be memorized. What happened where, & who the leaders were. 

High school: Started getting a glimpse of why things happened, & how what happened at a particular time affected what happened later. And a lot of it wasn’t because of some person doing something on purpose; sometimes things just coalesce. 

Reading after I was out of high school: Finding out about how these events affected people who weren’t mentioned in school very often, people who were treated as background canvas for the big painting described in my school history classes… & realizing I cared more about them than I ever did about the leaders. 

And, eventually, realizing how much of the story I was told in school was propaganda, wishful thinking, & covering up embarrassing details (embarrassing mainly to the men who want to be seen as wise leaders but who are, all too often, venal cowards).

One of the biggest things I learned about the stories of history is how much it means now. History is not dead. 

People make decisions now, every day, based on the history they’ve been taught. People died this weekend* because of those stories. 

I don’t have any brilliant insights to share, I’m just thinking out loud.

If there’s an insight, it might be something like: Be skeptical about what your leaders tell you. 

Care more for the people breathing with you now . . .  than about the distorted, fun-house mirror images of your ancestors as told to you by people with agendas that are (very likely) not wholesome.

I’m a sucker for a sales pitch. But I’ve been burned so many times I’ve finally started being aware of the pitch, at least sometimes. 

When someone starts getting you riled up, slow down for one second; turn aside & ask what THEY hope to gain from your anger & fear.

When you’re in an “us against them” situation, are you with the right ‘us?’ 

Learn to see the con, then think about whether the confidence scheme you caught might not be the only one being played on you. 

Of course, I’m being really grim here, on a weekend when Weekend Twitter never had a chance against the tide of sewage in the news.

I still think that trust is possible, at least between individuals, and that it’s valuable, something worth working for. 

Building trust between individuals in a world full of very subtle manipulation must be one of the biggest questions we can explore.

It’s really risky, but the alternative is isolation & paranoia, which doesn’t build strong people or strong societies. 

*I wrote the original version of this post on Aug. 13, 2017, as a series of tweets during the weekend of the Charlottesville, Virginia far-right marches and counter-protests.