Walking the subway route this morning, up from Toronto’s Eglinton Station through the Yonge Eglinton Centre, as usual. What wasn’t usual was the guy walking next to me, black, wearing blue and white basketball togs, carrying a backpack, 8 feet tall. I’m not lying.
30 meters later, another fellow, walking towards me arm-in-arm with a brunette woman his age, early 30’s, sporting lederhosen. What’s the message?
I have been plagued with not fitting into a pre-existing mold ever since I became a creativity professional for organizations in the 1980’s. Feels like forever. Meeting facilitators didn’t really exist until the 1970’s and creativity professionals?
Trips through immigration at the US border continue to remind me that it’s still a profession in its infancy. Guards always ask when I tell them what I do, “What’s that?”
This morning’s insight as I walked to the office: it doesn’t matter if you don’t fit in, assert anyway.