Permission to Be Unoriginal

Warning: nothing you’re about to read here will be original. It will, nevertheless, be worthwhile. (I hope).

When it comes to creativity, or starting a business (which is creative, btw), or cooking, or dancing, or dating, or any number of the things we do in the world that invite our inner critic to berate us – I want to offer us all the permission to be unoriginal. Permission to stop worrying about all the million billion other people/businesses/pieces of art that are out there and just do whatever the fuck you – beautiful, snowflake, marvelous you – want to do.

Because, I can’t emphasize this enough, you are the only you that ever was or ever will be. So even if nothing you ever do in this life is completely “original” (whatever the fuck that even means – which I’ll rant about in a minute), everything you ever do or say will be uniquely yours.

Sound like a platitude? Good. It is. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

The idea that our contributions to the world only matter if they are somehow new and edgy and original is bullshit. It’s the story our inner saboteurs come up with to keep us small and safe and protected from disappointment.

If we let go of the whole idea that what we have to offer needs to be super special or different or revolutionary, we offer ourselves the freedom to truly value what we have to offer the world. And to have a lot more fun with all of it.

You Are Perfectly You

One of my coaching clients and I were talking a couple weeks ago about the impossibility of perfection. She struggles – as so many of us do – with the not-good-enough demons and comparison with others. But the lovely, beautiful, magical conclusion we reached together is that she is perfectly herself. 

And the same is true for you, my love. You are perfectly you! And that is glorious. 

It will also feel a lot more resonant if you can stop comparing yourself (your art, your cooking, your work, your home, your relationship, your luscious booty) to others. 

Instead, let’s all pay attention to what we DO have to offer rather than getting bogged down in how what’s ours is or isn’t the same as other people’s. 

To stop talking in the second person for a moment and speak to my own experience, here’s how this applies in my life…

There are a million blogs like this out there; a million Instagram accounts with more followers; a million writers with book deals; a million life coaches with client wait lists; a million faster runners; a million bakers with more talent for presentation. There are so very many people out there who are better at a lot of shit than I am. 

However! I’m willing to bet hard money that there aren’t a million sober, tattooed, childless, ADHD, former academics who studied humor for their PhD, grew up in the shitshow that is Las Vegas, are in their late thirties/early forties, love both baking and long distance running, have undertaken extensive life coach training, enjoy cursing, and live in the weirdo mecca that is Portland, Oregon. There probably aren’t even two such delightful humans on the roster of life – which is pretty cool when I pause to look at it that way.

That list only covers some of the highlights of the very unique flavor that is your humble author. And that particular flavor is what I bring to everything I make, do, say, and show up with in my life. I’ve absorbed a million, billion moments and ideas and expressions that all come together to make me who and how I am. And while that means that my flavor isn’t original (it’s made up of a smorgasbord of other influences), it is uniquely mine.

You, my loves, also have a flavor that is absolutely your own. And it is a beautiful offering, I promise. You are perfectly you; there’s no other you to compare.

A Note on Originality

Nothing is original – not even that cliche. I could go on a long rant about this, but I’ll try to keep it brief. 

We are beings of community and connection. We are influenced by everything around us. We read things, hear things, taste things, touch things, etc. – all of which get absorbed into our subjective experience and filtered through our unique lil’ brains. Then we open our mouths or put pen to paper or throw ingredients in a pot and everything that comes out the other side is a byproduct of the stuff we took in.

We produce lovely, interesting combinations of all the things that came before – but none of it started with us. Not really. And that’s great! It takes a lot of the pressure off. It means we get to build and play and combine ideas in interesting and delightful ways. Then we pass all of that on to the next person to continue to build and play and reconfigure in ways that make sense to them.

For example, book recommendations are my super power. And I tend to somehow forget that not everyone has read/seen/heard of Self-Compassion, The Artist’s Way, The Four Agreements, Boundary Boss, The Body Is Not An Apology, The Art of Possibility, Outrageous Openness, or any number of the myriad works that have majorly influenced how I think and show up in the world. 

All of those authors have unique voices and contributions that are unlike my own. Some are more academic, some more woo woo, some more abstract… none of which has to be a measuring stick for the quality of my work. 

I don’t have to be original to be helpful or engaging or thought-provoking or just plain entertaining. I don’t have to be original to be good at what I do.

We Get to Share What We Absorb

I’ve been re-reading Brene Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection, and it’s been lovely to revisit after a decade or so. It’s also been interesting to realize just how much of Brown’s teaching has become so internalized for me that I don’t even realize it came from her work.

And rather than berating myself for just being a sad parrot of someone else’s work, I’m choosing a different narrative. Because as much as Brown’s work has become central to my way of being in the world – there are plenty of folks who haven’t yet heard of her, and plenty who might just enjoy a little refresh. 

Regardless, my writing here is different from Brown’s, and the way I talk about some of this stuff might just click for you in meaningful ways. To offer an imperfect metaphor: Brown may be the source of the splash, but my writing is part of the ripple. And her writing is also the ripple of all the splashes she’s encountered over the years. 

Even Brown’s marvelous, ground-breaking books aren’t original. They’re continuations, interpretations, collections of data and ideas that she brings together in unique and eye-opening ways.

It’s so easy to look to authors, entrepreneurs, artists, spiritual teachers, yoga instructors, actors, gardeners, cooks, or anyone else we admire and say, “wow. They are so much better at that than I am.” Or, “I could never do that so well.”

Or, my loves, we can look at all those beautiful skills and contributions we look up to and say to ourselves, “wow! I love what they do! What can I learn from them?” 

What aspect of that could I cultivate in my own work?

What do I love about what they are doing? And how could I bring even a little bit of that into my life/work/learning?

How can I adapt that to suit my way of being in the world?

What about that do I want to share with others?

All of which are beautiful questions to consider. 

So, dear reader, I hope you walk away from this post with a bit more permission. Take what you like and leave the rest. Go forth and recirculate, regurgitate, and redistribute these ideas. I’m excited for what you make of them.