Flying my Freak Flag

I am a freak.

and I am a happy freak at that.

It is true, I have always been an outsider. Even when I was invited in to the party, It felt like I could not connect, or belong.  I was not sure what to talk about, and could not quite figure out how to fake it till you made it.  I really didnt enjoy pretending, it felt so wrong.

life is beauty full

Uncomfortable in my freakness, tiptoing to that discordant song I couldn’t quite hear, feeling ashamed of all that was “wrong” with me.   A failure, skirting life in fear of breaking or getting broken.  And yet, through my existence and isolating solitude I still carried my freak flag. Hidden but visible.  See other people knew I was different.  It took me forever to acknowledge that I would never be one of the bunch, and be okay with it.  Today I proudly wave the flag.

I remember in my yearning to fit in, I tried out different cliques and philosophies in desperation to find my group of peers.  The world is a lonely planet without people you can relate to.     Ater I was kicked out of my school for answering the principle back, in the classroom, my parents sent me to a wonderful new school..

It was American style, housed in an office building downtown.  No more school uniforms, and escaping boring classes was dead easy. We just went down the elevator. I didn’t learn till much later about all the notes sent home noting missed classes.  My mother never said a word.  And that makes sense.  She is a freak too.  (Don’t tell her I said so)

flowers

Finally I had found my tribe.  I hung with the coolest kids.  Smart, funny and accepting of oddness.  We would go over to my friend Michael’s house, whose parents both worked, after school.  Under the freedom to be, without the watchful eye of an adult, we would sit in his bedroom, talking about everything, and smoking pot, at least everyone but me.  Ironic really, people thought I was high all the time,  and while my head was in the clouds, I didn’t do much drugs or do well with them. My oddball essence was easily explained by a drug induced high.I couldn’t impress upon them that this really was me, even beyond those child years..

Sometimes just for the camaraderie I would pretend to inhale.   We were sweet innocents, trying to decipher the clues without a compass.  It felt incredibly sacred.

le-chic-room-after.1

Lately, I have thought how incredible would it be to travel the world in a fabulous caravan of gypsies, jesters, fairies, fools and freaks Enjoying the journey, while spotting unicorns and doing healings, and readings.   Our rolling homes would be beautiful and wildy colorful.  Fitted out with the most luxurious of fabrics, silks, furs and deep comfortable interiors.  Crystal chandeliers and fine bone china and the best of everything.  We would feast sumptously in the fields at moonlight, and dance gloriously as the sun rose.  There would be much merriment, laughter gratitude, and no soulful jubilant would be denied a spot in the band.

I have begun to bring in more pieces, colors and textiles into my life that reflect the richness of my soul in my living space.   It feels really juicy and delectable.

Are you embracing your Le Chic Soul Speak by letting your inner yearning show up in your outer world?  I would love to hear all about it.

If you are looking for answers on just who you are under those layers. Or are ready to let it all hang out in your own way, check out my services or sign up here for a reading to clear and heal those doubts that keep you repeating old habits.

Joie de Vivre,

Jen

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