I walk to the beat of a different drummer. The world keeps telling me so. The people I meet don't know where to put me. They don't trust where I might go. So I have trouble trusting the world. The differences get between us. If I didn’t hear a different drummer, I wouldn’t have trouble relating to the world. Yet, it’s the only cadence I have and with it comes my creativity—even the world values that in me. How can the world and I both disdain and value something at the same time?
No wonder the world looks at me with distrust. I’ve just said I agree with them. I must somehow hold myself up to the world saying so. Even these thoughts feel revealing, yet unimportant.
We have too many names that mean different.
People have ruined perfectly good words such as special
by using them that way. I know. I’ve used some of them.
Made up a few myself—not all of them so forgiving.
Why do we have to figure out how we are different,
before we figure out how we are the same?
People have ruined perfectly good words such as special
by using them that way. I know. I’ve used some of them.
Made up a few myself—not all of them so forgiving.
Why do we have to figure out how we are different,
before we figure out how we are the same?
—me strauss Letting me be
3 comments:
Cool thoughts. You have a great blog.
Thoreau also said "in a world of fugitives, the person taking the opposite direction will appear to run away". The strangest thing is that no one will ever stop and ask why you are going in that direction, they will just assume you are wrong.
You have to walk to the beat of your drummer and run in your own direction, the path that is yours. You can't do anything else, you can't be anyone else. You have to be you, and no further classification is necessary.
And it would then also seem so that in this world of "good people" the one who follows a different path must be the fugitive. . . . I think that there is no choice because there is no other drummer, and life without music would not be real. ;-)
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