The Wrong Pair Of Temples

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:17

Hey everyone, and welcome back to my Curiously Queer Life. All of this, my empire, started with duck. Duck is my dog. And describing duck is difficult because there is no adequate words in the English language for duck. He is joy, not happy, not friendly, joy. Like someone distilled the concept and poured it into this dog with absolutely no off switch. Duck is deeply, profoundly, unconditionally in love with the human race. Every single one of you. He has never met a person he did not want to be best friends with. And I will be honest, I used to get jealous watching him light up for strangers on the street. That's mine. That's my dog. That's my joy. But Duck's love is not running low. There is more than enough for every human on this planet, and then some. He does not love me less when he loves others. And look, I know I talk about Duck a lot. He is my friend. I have never put a collar on him just to harness when we walk. I did put a collar on him once, and it made me feel like he was my prisoner, so that was the end of that. No shade that anyone has a collar. That's not my purpose. That's just me and my feelings towards my friend. Duck loves to run. Not at anyone, just free, full speed. Biggest smile on a dog's face you have ever seen. Ears back, he's gone. As fast as he can, as far as he can. But he always comes home. People used to stop me on trails, your dog's running off. And I would just stand there cool as a cucumber. All good. He knows where home is. But there was one woman. She stopped me, looked me dead in the eye, and said, Your dog runs too fast. I waited for more, but there was none. I'm sorry. Too fast? Duck, who is at the moment doing nothing except being completely freely himself, was running too fast. This was the complaint. This was not the first time someone has stopped me to complain about Duck's joy. He runs too fast. I might have tripped. He's too friendly. He's annoying. And something in the moment of all this chaos, it clicked. Duck needed space to run. Space to love people. Space to be exactly what he was without someone deciding he was doing wrong. And that that needed money. So I started thinking. And then building. And then came the podcast and listen. And then all of it launched by a woman on a trail who thought a free dog was a problem to be solved. Ma'am, if you're listening in the moment, I was irritated by you. And I want to say sorry. And tell you thank you. Genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, because you pushed our life in a direction that is beyond. So you keep policing those trails from dogs that are running too fast, and uh I'll be hanging out in a forest with all my pansies and duck. But here's the thing duck was only the first part of it. Now, before I go further, I need to set some context. Before the world has a very specific idea of what life is supposed to look like for everyone: marriage, baby, dog, house, grandkids, retirement, funeral, credits, roll, that, da. And it's not a life. It is a template designed for a very specific group of people. And for about 40 plus years, I kept picking up that template, holding it up to myself like I was buying a shirt in the mall, checking the fit in the mirror, putting it down, picking up another one. You know. Maybe if I try this version, oh, maybe this one will fit better. Spoiler, none of them fit. Here's what nobody talks about when you reject standard templates. People don't know what to do with you. You become a question mark at dinner parties. Someone pulls you aside, but aren't you lonely? And the answer is it's not that simple. I long for people who like me to exist in a community of understanding. That longing is real. And I think we all feel that deep down. Just don't talk about it enough. We don't name it like we should. But I am alone, not lonely. I have grown vastly in this space, just me figuring out who I was without anyone else's template in the room. There are two very different things, being alone and being lonely. And I spent a long, long, long, long time confusing them. Spent decades in the wrong pair of templates. I talk a lot about spirituality, love, light, and all that hippie stuff I love so much. And somewhere along the way, I realized none of it was really about God or the devil or any framework anyone else had handed to me. It is about choice. Nobody can tell you what life is, actually. Not with confidence and truth. So at some point, you just have to pick a road. And I picked things that make me happy, the things that feel inclusive. I picked seeing the lesson in the hard stuff instead of just the wound. I chose not letting the hard parts become the whole theme of my life. I chose the version of myself that is a barefoot, weed smoking, sky staring, dog talking, best in all things looking kind of person. Because the opposite of that just feels wrong to me. In a world of choice, that's mine. I actually made a word up for this feeling. I've used it a few times, but I don't think I've ever really described it. So the word is joviant. It is a peaceful, happy, joyful state where everything feels right. Not perfect, and you're at peace with it all. Not floating above it, just in it, settled, moving forward. That's what I was choosing towards. I just didn't have the word for it yet. And once I realized it was okay to actually like that person, the template stopped making sense to me at all. I don't want a husband. I don't want a wife either before anyone else gets too excited. I don't want to register at the local bridal shop. I don't want gender reveals. I don't want matching towels. I definitely don't want to spend my Sunday arguing about an accent wall. And I'm not saying that life is wrong. It isn't at all. Many people I love around me are very happy in that life, and it is clear. I'm just saying it was wrong for me. For 40 years, I couldn't tell the difference. Duck still doesn't care, for the record. He just wants to walk and eat and occasionally sit on my feet. He has never once asked me about my five-year plan. My life doesn't look like a template. And I spent a long time being embarrassed about that. Like I'd somehow failed at the basic assignments of life. But lately, I keep thinking the assignment was never mine to begin with. And if you're somewhere out there holding a template that doesn't fit, checking in the mirror, putting it back, picking up another one, I'm not gonna tell you what your life should look like. I'm still figuring out mine. But I am telling you, put the fucking template down. If it doesn't feel right, it doesn't belong to you. That's it. That's all I'm saying. Build a template, find a different template. Just the rules that have been said to us for the last hundred years are someone else's rules. And it's time that we start building a community based on multiple rules. So that is it for this week, everyone. I am extremely grateful. This is crazy. I uh I don't know. It's funny when you go through life and you ask for something, and then all of a sudden you have it. I don't know. I I'm good. So I'm grateful. Everyone, keep pushing, keep chasing whatever it is that you're chasing. It might even be a ball. It's Duck's most favorite thing. He never brings them back, but I essentially am just playing fetch with myself. But he lives for it, and I love him, so I'll keep doing it. As always, fill your tanks with joy, love, and kindness. And when you feel it spilling over the edges, you share it with everyone around you. My name is Thomas St. James, and this is my Curiously Queer Light.