You know what really used to get to me?
People who aren’t willing to risk.
The ones who play it safe.
The ones who are afraid to swim past the buoy.
The ones who resist the urge to climb a tree.
The ones who swallow their words on the edge of their tongue for fear of saying the wrong thing.
The ones who succumb to the the social norms and etiquette and suppress their inner urges.
The ones who would never trespass the line that says STOP.
The laws of men become the guiding light of the holy truth or a heavy cloak we are burdened to carry.
We castrate ourselves from the wildness inside.
I feel like I’ve been a rule breaker my entire life.
It didn’t come easily. It was a slow purchase to get my freedom back.
At first it was the feeling of an impulse that I feared ridicule or criticism if I acted upon.
Breaking the rules meant breaking the fear of others’ judgments.
Born under an authoritarian household where everything was managed, I vowed never to let anyone control me again.
If there was a rule, I would find my way to get around it, under it, over it or burn it.
At times the rule was my inner jail keeper.
Travel carried with it new perspectives.
The Italians were one of my favorite rule circumventers. There’s always a way, as long as you know Mario’s brother’s uncles cousin.
They’ll find a way.
In Germany, people love to tell you the rules.
They will be sure to let you know and even go out of their way to clarify where the line is, which bin is the recycling, not to pass the parking guides and all that is “forboden” (forbidden).
It’s as if they designate themselves as the spokesman for the law, they take a personal pride in assuring themselves that we all are law abiding citizens.
Beware of throwing your trash in the wrong bin.
The art of adaptation, so well known to the Italians; example, you don’t have the right alternator for your vehicle, no problem they’ll adapt another one and jimmy rig something to make it work. (True story).
In Germany if you don’t have the part, you don’t have the part. There is no sidelining, detouring, creative meandering.
It is what it is and that’s how it is.
Of course, their country is incredibly clean and organized and nothing seems out of line, which for some reason gives me a sense of a slow death.
In France the national motto is “c’est compliqué” (it’s complicated) and the national sport is “râler” or complain. But if you fill out about 30 different documents, you can potentially have what you desire or you just go on strike.
The French are hard wired revolutionaries, they fight the rules in masses. When they’re pissed the whole world knows it.
I love it when Paris goes on strike. Only the French are capable of striking for 10 days on all public transportation in a city with 2 million people.
Utter chaos. You actually are still work compensated when you’re on strike, it’s written in the constitution.
They demand their rights to be respected.
I admire them for that, even though it has made them a little bitter and overly critical of most things overtime.
I love how they take their tractors and block the entire highway, block the roundabouts for months at a time, throwing large bales of hay and dirt right into the middle of the roadway.
They don’t seem too worried about how this may perturb everyone’s daily life. When the teachers go on strike, the parents figure it out. When you can’t cross the road, you take a detour, when you don’t have transportation, you bike.
They fight for what they consider the rights of man and against oppressive rule. I find that fighting oppression has created an internal oppression over time.
The French are the first ones to tell you all the things that could go wrong or would be complicated if you attempt to do something outside the mold.
As if the monarchy somehow became an internal parasite that they both fight against and let it rule their ability to step out and truly be free.
I don’t tend to rally with others for my fights against authoritarian rule.
Rather, I am a bit more subtle and individualistic.
When everyone was stuck inside during covid, I found a way to travel between Europe and France multiple times a year and vacation in Portugal.
Quarantine, I just moved countries at the right times.
Vaccination, hm, there was a way around that.
I wanted to live in Europe, no visa, I found a way to make that work for the first 8 years before marrying for paperwork.
I didn’t want to be stuck in a system of subscriptions and handcuffs, I found a way to hack my freedom of digital usage.
Photoshop is a wonderful tool.
I don’t mind abiding by the rules if I believe in the principle.
If I don’t believe in the principle, I refuse to succumb.
If a sign says do not pass, do not climb, do not anything, my mind will say, Why Not!? I’ll elaborate the possibilities. What’s beyond the limitation?
Generally the best spots are just beyond where the crowd decides to settle. The best beach spots, the most beautiful nature sceneries, the best views, the better restaurant outside of the main strip. It’s about pushing a touch past the edge of comfort.
Adventure does not come from being rule abiding.
The entire philosophy of adventure is about pushing the limits.
Rule breaking is also a state of mind. It means going against the grain of that which is deemed as “normal” and “possible”.
I trust deeply in the spark of excitement inside. When that spark says I want to live somewhere, I want to have this kind of life, I want to do what they are doing… I believe the soul can see beyond the apparent barriers.
For me it meant moving to Europe with a few thousand dollars and hopes of a modeling agency.
It meant leaving France and my son to live in the bay area, knowing I still wanted to be a present mother and see him every 6 weeks.
It meant living in Bolinas beach town, one of the hardest places to find a home where people dream of living there and can search for years. You will never find an ad for a home to rent there, it’s all word of mouth and homes are often claimed before they even go up for rent. I lived there for 6 years.
It meant moving to Hawaii with the prospect of a short sublet, having never set foot on the islands before and trusting an impulse.
It meant declaring to the universe that I was going to live in a full ocean view gorgeous home without it taxing my budget. It meant sending a letter to the community being vulnerably honest and trusting that the person who did show up with a home would be there.
It meant daring to self declare my capacities, theater performer, waitress at a 5 star restaurant, excellent massage therapist, none of it started with training or the traditional validation processes that the world stamps “you are now worthy of spreading your gifts."
The law of the universe said, if that’s what you want, go for it.
The common narrative; “it’s so expensive, it’s hard to find housing, I can’t leave my kids, my job, my husband, my home, my friends. I can’t travel the world and barely work. I’d need to be rich. “
I didn’t believe the constructs of a constricted mindset.
The creative thinker finds a way. They see the goal and know there is a way to get there, often with support from the outside forces who know no social norms or the word “impossible.”
The rule breaker only has to a have a will and know that there will be a way.
The rule breaker knows the rules in order to break them .
A wise rule breaker is not insolent or ignorant, rather he is skilled, creative, thinks outside of the box and thus has freedom of choice.
The wise rule breaker plans his actions based on his trust in a higher law, the one that he respects and observes at all costs.
It is the law of nature and the law of his inner truth.
I believe we find our way through the mud to get to that place.
Attempting to get past our own inner jail keeper is work, we created that jail keeper for a healthy reason at the time, to protect us, to make sure that we would survive in the world.
Now the question is: is this who I want to be now and can my jail keeper let it’s guard down a bit, so that I can truly step into who I know I have the potential to be?
Photo ®Catherine Cunningham