My suburb is popular with the ‘trendies’.  Some of those who live and work here often wear designer clothes, would never hang out with older people, display immaculate hairstyles, and often swear in public as easily as sneezing.  They congregate in the fashionable bars where no one over the age of 35 exists.

It never used to be that way.  It is an old working class area built on the backs of factory workers, families, and humble people.  A former slum in the twenties and thirties during the depression and World Wars, now everyone wants to ‘be seen’ here.

Sometimes when I walk on my side of the footpath and these people see me coming, they continue to walk into me and don’t move out of the way.  You see, I don’t look like them – a perfect mannequin.  It is as if I am invisible.  Why do some people in society seem to make others feel like they are not welcome or ‘less than’ if they live, look, or dress simply? 

I may not be swanky, keep up with the latest trends, go on exciting holidays, or have a wide circle of friends.  Good luck to people who live this way and do have these things, but I can’t be you.  And why would I want to be?  I am interested in seeking a genuine and deeper way of life, with all of its blemishes and tomato-sauce-on-the-white-top kind of reality.  I want a life, not flawlessness.

When I wake up, sometimes my hair looks like a birds nest, I find a pimple, a hole in my garments, or I feel like an elephant after overeating.  That’s life.  That’s reality.

I often feel like I am walking on eggshells, having to keep my opinions to myself for fear of offending others, always being the polite one, always smiling and careful not to upset anyone.  Yet there are many times when I am forgotten and offended repeatedly because others like me in the world are ridiculed for their faith, for believing in God, for praying the Rosary, for being a regular churchgoer, for being an introvert, a bookworm, a quieter soul, and the list goes on and on.

Well, I can’t be you if you are into partying every Friday and Saturday night, like drinking to excess, take mind-altering substances, believe that older people are past their use-by date, or think that church is just a pretty building for weddings and funerals.

I am not impeccable.  I’ll never be a model or feel comfortable wearing three hundred dollar shoes or accessories, or hang out at the ‘fashionable’ places.  I can’t be found dancing the night away if my spiritual life is not tended to.  I can’t be you if that is what society expects. 

I’d rather be reading a book, enjoying a garden, singing, listening to music, walking in nature, sitting quietly in a silent church,  staring at the ocean, harvesting vegetables, watching a thunderstorm, or having a soulful conversation with a kindred spirit than be in a room filled with beauties who are all taller than me and can only discuss the latest fashions or gossip.  I just can’t do it.

There are people in society who simply survive and get by every day.  They may be living on a very low wage, on a pension, have a disability, work in a factory, clean our toilets and collect our garbage (thank you especially for what you do), or are suffering a mental illness.  These are the people who are often invisible.  We don’t see them on television or in the magazines.  There are the quiet ones, the homeless ones, the rejected ones.  These are the real people of the world. 

I think the older I get the more my fake detector becomes increasingly refined and pronounced. I know that this may all sound very judgmental and harsh (there’s that polite eggshell walker in me again), but sometimes things just need to be said. It is so important to be you and to be real. Life is just too short. There are so many people who are lonely, or feel rejected because they are not ‘cool’ enough, or perhaps they are poor, scared, feeling old, or are very sensitive by nature and the awareness of never fitting into this modern ‘rah-rah’ world is ever pervasive.

So here’s to the MuSinGers – the ones who delight in the quiet, deep, meaningful, and peaceful things of life. The thinkers, writers, resilient workers, the unemployed, the bullied, the artists, musicians, the ones who love walking on the beach, who cry at a gorgeous sunset, or marvel at a dancing butterfly. The ones who have never or rarely set foot in a pub, who don’t drink or take drugs, who prefer ice cream covered in sprinkles, and who love ‘vintage’ ways. The ones who still believe that giving up your seat in public transport is a mark of respect and gentility. The ones who say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ or smile at a stranger. Those who still believe in the existence of gentlemen and ladies. The ones whose heads would rather be buried in a Jane Austen intrigue than in socialite newsfeeds.

I used to compare myself with those who seemed to command more respect, were offered the great jobs, received positive attention, promotions, and were never rejected because they were the good looking or chic ones.  I wondered why I was different or could not try harder, but with passing years the reality is that there is much shallowness in the world and these things never truly matter.

The superficial things never last.  It is only the simple, meaningful, quietly strong and everlasting values and virtues that live forever.  If this is what you believe too, let us enjoy who we are and keep being the point of difference in the world. There is nothing more amazing and brave than swimming upstream when the current pushes against you.

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