I publicly challenged myself on Twitter last week to write my next piece in one day, as a way to continue tasting, and thereby growing comfortable with, imperfection. Below is the result of my efforts (+ ~1-2 hours of editing before sending). Enjoy!
I introduced myself as Sydney for 26 years.
Somewhere along the path from strangers to close friends, most people switch to Syd. The switch isn’t forced, but instead acts as a natural, invisible milestone in our relationship: a stripping of formalities and an acknowledgement of the trust we’ve built and the resulting safety we feel to be seen and accepted as we are, sans masks. When somebody switches from Sydney to Syd, it feels like taking off formal attire and throwing on sweats: a sigh of relief, an immediate warmth and comfort, a signal of love, an invitation for authenticity.
More recently, though, I’ve been experimenting with opening the door to Syd earlier. I’ve been experimenting with being my maskless self from the get go instead of waiting for somebody else to signal it’s safe to do so.
“Hi! I’m Syd,” I’ve started saying to strangers. It doesn’t feel quite natural yet. It feels weird and uncomfortable, like I’m inviting a stranger into my home to lay with me on the couch in our coziest sweat suits.
But I persist.
If I am to bring more sunshine into the world, as much love as I’m capable of, I’m Syd. Always. Not just behind closed doors in the safety of my own home or in the arms of friends and family. I’m Syd out in the world.
I’m twirling in the streets. I’m smiling at strangers.
I’m allowing the silliest parts of my being to emerge uninhibited, my body contorting as I erupt in suffocating laughter that sends butterflies from my belly to my heart and back again.
The other night, walking home from dinner with my partner, A, and his family, my Syd-ness came alive. Forget about the sweat suit. I was completely naked.
I was suffocating from laughter. Nobody knew what I was laughing at. I couldn’t catch enough air to tell them. They laughed with me anyway. They caught my laughter, like a contagious disease, unavoidable and unpreventable.
When I finally caught enough air, when I could fill up my lungs, I stumbled through the words, erupting in laughter each time I opened my mouth to speak.
“I’m having a pizza paaaaahty,” I squeezed out in my very mediocre British accent, an accent usually reserved for my silliest moments.
I don’t know where the idea of this mythical pizza party came from, but the most beautiful thing happened next.
Inexplicably and illogically, everybody followed my cue. They got excited about my mythical pizza party, asking for more of the details, no judgment attached.
When we got home, I quickly scanned my room for an invitation to pass out. I found it in seconds: a gold, circular sticker I grabbed from a store’s checkout counter that said, “Great Job!” in big black letters. The sticker exuded the energy of the pizza party: shiny, enthusiastic, and capable of spreading cheer.
I talked about my mythical pizza paaaahty all night long, erupting in bouts of laughter every five minutes or so.
I felt gleeful: completely and utterly full of joy. I smile thinking about that night as I write this.
My mythical pizza party is a beautiful example of what can happen when we suspend the rules, when we break out of the box of logic and embrace the weird, fantastical parts of our minds.
Though counterintuitive, when we allow ourselves to make believe, we can find what’s real. We can create our reality instead of accepting the reality we’ve been given. We invite our authentic selves to move out from behind the curtain and take center stage. We free ourselves.
Far more beautiful than suspending the rules alone is doing it together.
We need to support and embrace each other. We need to follow each other’s leads into the creative, nonsensical parts of our beings, so we can explore them together. It is there that we find the genius, that which has not yet been created, that which we are most tempted to hide because it is so far from what we deem as “real” and “acceptable.”
No matter how long it’s been since you suspended the rules and embraced the mythical, I invite you to do so now. Start with small acts in safe spaces. Maybe you love ketchup on your pasta but you only embrace it when you’re alone. Try it the next time you’re eating with friends. The more you remind yourself of the gleeful reward of openly suspending the rules, inserting your own reality in their place, the more possible and exciting it feels to embrace what’s authentic and abandon the pursuit of acceptance.
If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I’d be lying if I said I’m comfortable suspending the rules today, but I’m more comfortable being me when I see you being you. If we all start taking steps into the mythical together, the dominos will start falling. Much like gleeful laughter, your courageous acts of authenticity are contagious.
With that, I cordially invite you to my pizza pahty.
Uncontrollable laughter is highly encouraged. Willingness to suspend the rules is a must.
Love,
Syd
P.S. if you enjoyed this piece and want to own a piece of it, you can collect it as an NFT here. My first NFT! :)
Syd’s Wellness Toolbox
a place for a product or ritual that aides my self-love
A meditation corner: a place in your home* that you dedicate to mindfulness moments. The space doesn’t need to be fancy, distinct, or decorated. Just keep it consistent and aim for somewhere you feel at ease without worries of interruption. You might want to leave something comfy to sit on (e.g. a pillow).
How this helps: Eliminates the need to put any energy or thought into preparation when you find a moment for mindfulness. You can simply make your way to your corner and slide into a quiet moment, kind of like the immediate, guaranteed comfort of arriving at your favorite restaurant. Also creates a physical association between the space and the experience of entering a mindful state, potentially helping you enter that state more easily each time you come back to your corner.
*I create this space when I’m on trips too. I choose one place in my hotel room (or wherever I am) to return to each morning.
A related book recommendation
I recently started The Path by Christine Gross-Loh and Michael J. Puett. If you’re interested in reading more about the importance of reverting back to child-like forms of make believe, The Path has a great chapter about it from the lens of Chinese philosophy. I’m absolutely loving it so far, and am finding it quite encouraging :)
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading my words. It means more than I can express.
Sending you lots of love and virtual hugs for the week ahead!