We base a diagnosis, an accusation of Mental Illness, on deviation from the norms of our current culture.

Depression is in the threshold between childhood and adulthood.

What if it is the culture that is insane?

The moirés, the denial, the squeezing into tiny suits of mediocrity.

Great observers of life are systematically subdued by cultural norms.

Our culture is insane.

Our children are seeking something higher, wiser, more fun, creativity unbounded.

Pathologize individuality.

Medicate these thoughts of autonomy and the miracle of each magnificent life with automatons who can sit nicely in chairs at 5, study perverted history at 12, and not realize that their cravings come from the mad men selling Earth-depleting products.

The wild ones are alive and well. 

Turn your face from mediocrity and we are standing right here.

I woke up with this diatribe running in my head and texted it to myself verbatim. I know where it came from, but I will have to wait to understand why.

Last night, we dined at a local pub.  Wood tables and casual talk amongst local people on a Friday night.  A long table of co-workers, a few couples, and a table nearby with siblings and spouses with plenty of warm-hearted ribbing. I first saw her standing at the door, wavering while waiting for the host to find her seat. A 40-something woman dining alone.

She was ushered to a table directly opposite my gaze.  Her gait and stature gave an impression of underlying confidence, despite her ducked head and subdued demeanor. What initially caught my attention was her outfit. It is not so unusual here in the Northwest to see personal style exhibited with great exuberance. Multiple layers of flowing florals, several sweaters, footed by sock and sandal, and topped with a Robin’s egg blue woolen hat decorated with added butterflies. What took my heart, was the name tag stuck on her white T-shirt underneath it all. With its much-manipulated curling edge, and a short name scribbled sideways. I could imagined what this identification meant to her, what it took for her to be part of this group. I felt a celebratory vibe and it touched me deeply.

I took her in holistically then, and she became an individual of courage, with an outrageous sense of humor all wrapped in a consummate sense of self.  I saw her face, heard her voice. She ordered a house specialty Burger and a glass of water. The meal was served quickly and with thoughtful flourish. She was so joyful about its presentation, the anticipation, the sheer joy in the moment that the warmth filled our entire end of the room. Her burger was devoured reverently and quickly. When she looked up, I think I saw tears in her eyes from pure pleasure.

We were finished with our dinner. Passing her table, I wanted to say, “I so enjoyed your enjoyment, Congratulations on whatever you are celebrating!” But I did not, for thoughtful reasons, and cowardly ones. Would it really have been such a catastrophe had I acted on that impulse? This is where the cultural norms come in, and the professional training that demands privacy and respectful distance. I will however wrap this missive in Robin’s egg blue and send it off with love to all out there that are not so encumbered.