Human Anagram: A Poem by Marc Alexander Valle

Human Anagram

by Marc Alexander Valle

Nice, quiet, smart.

People have told me this all my life. I don’t know how I feel about those words anymore. I used to hate them, but I think I’m making peace with the fact that I’ll never really get to shake them off.

Nice, quiet, smart. A combination that makes me a rare bird in this world.

Why do we hate being different when we’re younger?

Why do we need so much of the three A’s–acceptance, approval, admiration?

Why does it take so long to get to yourself when you have to live with yourself every day anyway?

The rare bird has few avian friends, but people love him and put him on stamps.

Now I just tried to make a metaphor where birds represent people, but I couldn’t figure what actual people represent in that particular metaphor. I cringed at every possibility, thinking of what readers would think of my writing. So I guess I’m not that rare a bird that embraces its uniqueness yet. I don’t know if we ever really get there in mid-life.

But wouldn’t that be cool to be on a stamp?

Random Thought # 1

The hardest part of being a person is to separate the positive voices in this world from the all the garbage that people have to say.

Which people are trying to help you and which people are talking non-sense and coming from a negative place?

Because you don’t want to be so confident that you’ll give up good suggestions that can help you. But you can’t take in all the comments that come from someone else’s pain, frustration and arrogance.

Many of us are in the positive places that we are in because we listened to people that had our best interest in mind. Our parents, our teachers, our friends, etc…

This notion that we shouldn’t listen to anyone is built on the belief that someone else will hurt us.

So how much do we let in?

Post-meditation Journal Entry # 15

April 2nd, 2018 (Duration of sit unrecorded)

Over the last few weeks, I’ve felt good about myself. I’ve told myself that I no longer need the acceptance, admiration, and validation that I’ve needed in the past. I don’t need to be Spielberg or what I thought I needed to be when I was 8-years-old or whenever those bad feelings kicked in. For the first time, I was shown this during my sit.

An image-feeling hit me a few minutes into my session. I rarely see a person paired with a strong emotion anymore. Instead, I’ve seen many complex three-dimensional objects and designs in the distance of my mind, but I saw the image of a person paired with an emotion once more. I can’t remember what the person looked like or what the feeling felt like, but whatever it was, it confirmed what I’ve been telling myself these last few weeks, I am where I am and I am no longer where I was.

I hope this sit means that I’m free from one more demon and I can breathe without the weight of needing approval from others.

Approval. Brutal approval. Brutal and endless need for approval, one of the worst forms of emotional slavery and psychological torture, a chain tied to an ankle, tied to a rock, a rock that does not erode in time, a rock that becomes heavier.

Weird by Marc Alexander Valle*

People called me weird in elementary school, because I said that I was Superman since I was wearing red underwear.

People called me weird in middle school, because I always talked about movies and used Star Wars analogies to make my point.

People called me weird in high school because I was quiet and would suddenly say something totally irrelevant like “Bill Clinton would have made a good Roman general, don’t you think?”

People would call me weird because I could consume a gallon of spaghetti sauce but hated tomatoes. Because I would drive all around the block to find a stop light simply because I didn’t like left hand turns. Because I would drink coffee followed by a soothing cup of chamomile.

Being called weird doesn’t bother me as much anymore. I figure that being weird is better than being a ‘weirdo’. A weirdo is like the Rain Man of weirdness. I consider myself the Good Will Hunting of weirdness…more adjusted, less irritable.

Weirdness is the state of not being normal. But weirdness is definitely a normal phenomenon in nature. Look to the sky and study flocks of sparrows swarming to and fro, left to right, up and down. There’s always one bird just outside the swarm, trying to keep up, trying to break off.

He’s weird. Maybe even a weirdo.

We’re all weird on some level. Some people are weird on all levels. I’m probably weird on a few levels, but nothing I’m uncomfortable with. Well, except for a couple of things. But if I told you, you’d probably call me weird.

*Published in Lehigh Valley Vanguard

Posted image above by Marc Alexander Valle.