Unique Speak

Seriously?

We all worry about how we are perceived. Well, at least most of us do. We want to fit in, be liked and included. Have our achievements recognised and lauded. It means we are one with the tribe. We are liked. We are safe and valued.

And all because of millions of years of evolution.

Humans equate exclusion with death. You know, if you’re out of the tribe you’re vulnerable – you’re prey.  So, we have to be ‘good enough’ so the tribe doesn’t kick us out into the wilds.

Alone.

This need to belong is hardwired into us. We need to be seen as ‘good enough’ so those we deem higher up the pecking order help us remain ‘alive’. If they exclude us we could ‘die’. 

We haven’t evolved past this fear. Yet.

The funny thing is, we also want to believe we are unique. And when you get down to it, we are. Putting that uniqueness out into the world is the scary bit. Then that primitive survival brain swings into gear. Then we withdraw. Do nothing in case our art, our writing, our music, our inventions are frowned upon. Or worse still, laughed at. 

It has taken me years to get to where I am. And that’s not far. I occasionally let my sparkle shine into the world. Then I retreat. Sparkle a little. Retreat. Procrastinate. Sparkle. Hide.

I know you understand. 

What is it about Time?

It seems to whoosh by faster and faster as we age. Maybe Father Time has a cruel sense of humour. Maybe it takes thirty years or so for him to build up momentum. Then he is off! A blur, a whirlwind of speed and tumbling leaves.

I personally believe he’s ploughing through a midlife crisis. He’s step-for-step with every middle-aged person out there. I think he’s snagged himself a high powered sports car. He’s tired of plodding along on foot. His joints ache. His feet hurt.

I can see him now – zooming along in a bright red Lambo, the top down, his beard flapping behind him like some bristly, snapping flag. I bet he doesn’t slow down for corners or forks in the road because all of his wrinkles have vanished, smoothed by g-forces and a big toothy grin. I know I would have the pedal to the metal if it smoothed out my wrinkles.

Let’s hope someone rolls out a roadblock before he drives off a cliff.