I left the big, square building full of perfectly square people. I couldn’t be square anymore.
So, I went to the big round building full of perfectly round people. I tucked and stuffed, zipped, and fussed, trying to round the square corners and curve the straight edges that I had maintained for a long time. But the perfectly round people in the big round building said I was too square and not round enough.
Then, I determined I wouldn’t go to the big square building or the big round building, or a building of any shape. My unique shape wouldn’t simply fit into the angles and curves required for approval and acceptance.
On a Sunday, I sat on a bench across the street, watching the square people pull into the parking lot of the big, square building. As they stepped out of the car, they zipped and stuffed, straightened, and fussed until their nonconforming parts became the smooth, square shape of everyone in the square building.
On another Sunday, I watched the round people pull into the parking lot of their big, round building. As they stepped out of the car, they zipped and stuffed, straightened, and fussed until their nonconforming parts became the smooth, round shape of everyone in the round building.
Likewise, the rectangles and the triangles conformed themselves to their respective buildings.
The perfectly square people from the big square building said I should come back to the big square building. This wasn’t an invitation to friendship or fellowship or acceptance. This was an invitation to come back to the big square building and become perfectly square and sit neatly next to them in uniformity and conformity; to do more of what they do and less of what they don’t do, to be more like what they are and less like what they are not.
Why am I compelled to conform to a simple, uniform shape when I am designed with such creativity and uniqueness? Am I brave enough to exist in the unconventional, nonstandard form in which I was created? Aren’t we all uniquely made works of art?
Timidly, hesitantly I begin to unzip, untuck, unstuff all the parts of myself that have been hidden for a long time, forced into geometric sameness. It’s uncomfortable, frightening, and awkward to not be a simple geometric shape. The squares, the circles, and the triangles stare at my unconventional design.
I am a work of art still in progress. Eventually, the dead, useless, and unattractive
parts will be exchanged for a glorious and beautiful new creation. I may not fit conventional expectations, but I am excited to see what comes next.
There is joy in freedom.
When you feel like you are the only one in the world just like you, you are. And that is a beautiful and glorious way to live.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Psalm 139:14-17
Copyright @TA Boland 2023
Image: Unsplash
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