“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.”
~~ Maya Angelou
I am so thankful that I’m not normal!
“Normal” people are like that lady that asked me why I was reading a book when I wasn’t going to school, and then proudly bragged that she hadn’t read a book since high school.
“Normal” people have nothing to do but talk about sports. Not that there is anything intrinsically wrong with sports, but it’s sad if that’s all they have to talk about. I am sure sports professionals talk about something else!
“Normal” people think that animals don’t love. In fact, I don’t think “normal” people really have a clue what unselfish love is.
“Normal” people don’t wonder about the nature of the Universe or ever question their part in the Great Scheme of Things. They really don’t question at all. “Normal” people look at me blankly when I ask them what their dreams are—what they think they were set here on Earth to do.
“Normal” people think they have the ear of God, and that their religious beliefs are the only correct ones and that everyone else in the world is wrong.
And deep down inside, whether they would admit it out loud or now, “normal” people think they’re better than everyone else.
“Normal” people think it’s perfectly all right to deny two people who are in love the basic right to get married.
It amazes me to think of all those years I wished—with one huge consuming desire—to be normal. I cried myself to sleep many a night begging God to make me “normal.”
Well, thank God I’m not normal!
Akhenaten, the heretic pharaoh of Egypt, was not normal.
Plato, Socrates, Galileo and Sappho were not normal. Hafez, Rumi…they weren’t normal. Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci weren’t normal. Neither were Degas, Monet, Manet, Picasso or van Gogh. Shakespeare certainly wasn’t. Chopan wasn’t. Mozart and Beethoven weren’t,
Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln were far from normal.
Darwin wasn’t normal. Thomas Edison wasn’t. Marie Curie, Einstein, nor Faraday were at all normal.
Anne Frank, Florence Nightingale, Amelia Earhart, and even Joan of Arc could hardly be described as “normal!” Rosa Parks wasn’t.
Ernest Holmes and Charles and Myrtle Filmore definitely weren’t normal. Mother Theresa wasn’t normal.
James Broughton certainly wasn’t normal and neither was Allen Ginsberg, Anaïs Nin or Jean Cocteau. Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman weren’t normal.
John Lennon wasn’t normal either.
Stephen Hawking isn’t normal, nor Eckhart Tolle or the Dali Lama.
Bono, Better Midler, Lady Gaga, Sting, Cyndi Lauper and David Geffen; none of them normal.
I repeat myself. Why would I want to be normal? Why did I want to fit in?
Then it occurred to me. I do fit in! I fit into a world of amazing and wonderful and artistic people. And while I am not famous (yet), I have still touched lives with my art.
I fit in just fine.
And I am so grateful that I’m not normal!
Photograph “Standing Figures (Thirty Figures) by Magdelena Abakanowicz” taken by B.G. Thomas