I didn’t belong at the top of a cliff, the turquoise water shimmering more than a hundred feet below me. My pulse jumped, my breath suddenly catching in my chest, and I heard that familiar instinctive voice, the one with all the good advice: Don’t look down. I turned to the sky instead, clear and cobalt, edged with jagged mountain peaks and shiny palm fronds, a world on fire in the Costa Rican sunshine. I tried slow my breathing as I closed my eyes and counted backward, but no dice. If there was one place I didn’t belong, it was on top of that cliff, and I was about to do the last thing I should’ve done: jump.
I also didn’t belong at the Vienna State Opera, surrounded by tuxedos and shiny gowns, silk gloves and opera glasses. That night, the space alone left me awestruck: the glistening chandeliers, the marble staircases, the thousands of people dressed like royalty. I wasn’t that into the music, but then again, I didn’t care. Being immersed in a space that seemed so unlike me was worth the boring tunes.
And I definitely didn’t belong at a Lil Jon concert where I was the only white person in the crowd. Even so, the girl I was dating insisted on taking me, and I told her I was game. At that point, Lil Jon was still flying under the mainstream radar. I didn’t know the guy then, but I sure remembered him after I watched his audience go crazy. For years afterward, whenever one of his songs came on the radio, I could tell the story of how I saw him before he was big.
Being in the wrong place at the wrong time has its own thrill, and it’s a feeling that I’ve grown to love. That’s because the act of showing up where you don’t belong will always have something to teach you. You’ll see what I mean if you try it for yourself, but don’t worry. You don’t have to climb a cliff in Costa Rica or catch the next plane to Europe. You can start small:
- Buy some cheap symphony tickets even if you’ve never listened to Brahms.
- Attend a conference for entrepreneurs even if your business is no more than an idea.
- Go to that notorious bar in town, the one that’s too sticky or too snobby for any of your friends.
- Apply to a graduate program that’s out of your league.
- Sign up for an open mic and read your first poem for some strangers.
- Walk through a pricey art gallery and act like you’re there to buy even if you only have $50 in your checking account.
- Go to a club that’s way too cool for your nerdy ass.
- Join a coding course even if you flunked math in high school.
I guarantee you that these experiences will be worth your time. For one thing, you’ll surprise yourself. Maybe you’ll be able to pass as an art collector in spite of being broke. Maybe you’ll realize that all the other entrepreneurs have the same questions and challenges that you do. Maybe you’ll see that you can do more than you thought. Situations like these might make you feel like an imposter, but if you can summon the guts to show up, you just might walk away with a little more confidence.
Another benefit is meeting new people. You might see that you have a surprising amount in common with people who seem nothing like you. Once you get outside your regular friend group, you might discover that you can be friends with anyone.
Finally, you’ll learn something about yourself. When I jumped off that cliff in Costa Rica, I had a sudden revelation as my body sped toward the lake: I am not a coward. That knowledge hit me harder than the cool shimmering water against my skin. It felt so good, I ran out of the water and scrambled up that cliff again, just so I could feel that rush one more time. Nothing could beat the high of knowing that I was somebody who had the guts to do anything. And now, I seek out that feeling as often as possible. It isn’t always easy or fun, but in the end, I always walk away with a good story.
