risky tears

As I grow older, I am reminded again and again that I am not quite so special, not quite so unique, as I once thought I was. As a child, I reveled in the particularities that I believe set me apart from the rest of the world. The moon was my moon, because she followed me on late night car rides with my mother. The dogwood tree outside my house was the only dogwood tree in the world that bore petals shaped like my memories. I staunchly believed I was the only person in the world who could communicate with lightening bugs. I wanted to play basketball with the boys because dolls were of no use to me. These idiosyncrasies were dear to my heart because I believed in my own indistinctiveness.

But as time passes, the world becomes a little smaller and you begin to connect with people who seem “more special” than you. Or worse, just as “special” as you believe you are. You meet someone who had the same experience with your moon. You meet someone who had not a dogwood tree, but a weeping willow that whispered ancient secrets to them. You find out yet another had crossed the barrier and spoken with June bugs. You meet so many others that find dolls useless. A part of you is happy to make these connections, but another part loses the pride of individuality one carries.

Each year seems to strip away another layer of unusual qualities I’ve been selfishly storing next to my heart. I think it’s because most of us find that we have to surrender to what others think of us and how we want to be viewed. The Little Prince says that “you risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.” How true this is. But sometimes tears are worth risking. Our undomesticated, roaming hearts will learn nothing more if we hoard our uniqueness. Only when we allow ourselves to be tamed, can we truly expand our reach and capability to be human.

I’ve been broken. I’ve been told what I believe to separate me from others is meaningless, pointless, just plain wrong. But, that’s never the case. Whatever you believe is unique to you, it is. It is because you cherish it. It is because no one will truly ever understand it. It is because it’s you.

“Of course an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than you altogether, since she’s the one I’ve watered. Since she’s the one I put under glass. Since she’s the one I sheltered behind a screen. Since she’s the one for whom I killed caterpillars (except for two or three for butterflies). Since she’s the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she’s my rose.” The Little Prince