So Timothy Leary said this beautiful thing and it’s really true. Try it.

“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes.
But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”

Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing?

Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…”

— Timothy Leary

When I was in Kansas I did this with everyone there, and then I did it in the airport on the way home. I was standing by this funny machine that sold stuff that people in Kansas City make. Like a crafty, hip vendors’ vending machine. I was considering the iron-on patch with the rainbow and this man was standing beside me looking at the stuff, too. He was eating a sandwich; I said hello.

It turned out he was a pastor in Kansas. And he was there because his congregation was helping with the flooding situation, which, by the way, is really terrible. I learned from him about the farmers and their loss of land and source of income. I learned that flooding that bad had never been seen in those parts before. I learned about the rubber boots he had brought to them. I learned about his path to ministry, the work he does with teens.

Also, I bought the Kansas City iron-on patch with a rainbow for Coco.

I met, in Kansas, many of the most beautiful humans I have ever encountered. And that was because I went to Kansas and while I was there I held out my hand and said, “Hi. My name is Melissa.”