Lost in Translation & Finding Your Tribe

The Exchange Rate of Values

You know what I've come to understand pretty late in my life? That we're all walking around with these invisible price tags, but the currencies keep changing depending on where we are and who we're with.

And here's the thing - it's not just about wanting to be loved and appreciated. We want something more specific than that. We want to be valued for the things we actually value in ourselves.

But life doesn't always work that way.

Sometimes - actually, quite often - we find ourselves in places where what we treasure most about ourselves doesn't seem to register on anyone else's radar. So what do we do? We adapt. We learn to accept appreciation for things that don't really matter to us that much. It's like being paid in a currency you can't really use - sure, you can exchange it, but something gets lost in the conversion.

Something is better than nothing, right? But getting paid like this has its own price. So tread carefully.

I've spent a lot of time watching plants grow. They have taught me something crucial about all this.

You see, every seed comes packed with potential, with a specific kind of magic waiting to unfold. But whether that seed becomes a mighty tree or stays a struggling sprout isn't just about the seed itself - it's about where it lands, the soil it's planted in, the environment it finds itself in. Pretty obvious for plants, but we often miss that bit about humans.

I've seen it firsthand, moving between different countries and cultures. What's a humble houseplant in one place might be a towering tree in another. And it got me thinking - maybe we're not so different. Maybe when we feel small or undervalued, it's not because we lack potential. Maybe we're just planted in the wrong soil.

For the longest time, I kept trying to get the people around me to see what I saw, to value what I valued. And it's not that they didn't appreciate anything about me - they did. But they were appreciating things that didn't really matter to me, speaking a language of value I didn't quite understand.

And you know what? That creates its own special kind of pain.

Getting love and appreciation for things that don't truly matter to us - it's like receiving a gift we don't know what to do with. It sits there, awkward and heavy, reminding us of the disconnect between what others see and what we wish they'd see.

And slowly, invisibly, this mismatch started doing something dangerous - it made me question whether what I valued in myself had any worth at all.

It's like being a poet in a world that only wants to read instruction manuals.

Sure, you could learn to write really good instruction manuals, and people might praise you for it. But if what you really love is poetry, if that's where your soul comes alive, then all that praise feels hollow. It's appreciation in the wrong currency.

But here's what I've learned: when you finally find people who speak your language of value, who see beauty in the same things you do, it's like suddenly being able to breathe underwater. Everything shifts. The things about yourself that felt out of place suddenly make perfect sense. It's not just about being appreciated - it's about being understood. It’s like finding a fellow human on Mars.

You know, there's this greeting in Zulu - sawubona - which means "I see you." And I think that captures the most profound kind of connection we can experience as human beings. It says, “I see the whole of you—your experiences, your passions, your pain, your strengths and weaknesses, and your future. You are valuable to me.” Think of being greeted by that!

When someone truly sees us - not just the surface, not just the parts we show to everyone, but the essence of who we are - and they appreciate that very thing we've been hoping someone would notice. It's more than recognition; it's a kind of witnessing that makes us feel real, validated in the deepest sense. That's what we're all searching for. Not just to be looked at, but to be seen. Really seen.

I think that's what we're all really looking for. A place where our particular kind of seed can grow into whatever it's meant to become. And sometimes finding that place means crossing oceans, learning new languages, stepping into entirely different worlds.

It's really about finding your tribe. Those people who just get it, who speak your language without translation. When you find them, it's like finally exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding. These are the people who light up at the same things you do, who see the magic in what you see. They're the ones who don't just tolerate your quirks but celebrate them, who make you feel like maybe you're not so strange after all - or better yet, that being strange in your particular way is exactly right. Finding your tribe isn't just about belonging - it's about being seen, truly seen, for who you are. It’s like coming home. And when you find them, suddenly all those years of feeling like a misfit make sense.

I haven't found my perfect soil yet, but at least now I know what I'm looking for. I've learned that feeling out of place isn't always a sign that something's wrong with you - sometimes it's just a sign that you need to keep searching for your right place. Because it's not just about who you are or what you do - it's about where you are and who you're with.

And here's the thing that took me so long to understand: when we finally find the right soil, the right place, and the right tribe, something magical happens. We just blossom. We stop struggling. Those things we used to see as problems, those parts of ourselves we thought needed fixing? They just... stop. It's not that they disappear - it's that in the right environment, they stop being problems at all. Instead of constantly trying to patch up our perceived deficiencies, we find ourselves naturally playing to our strengths. The energy we used to spend on fixing ourselves becomes available for growing, for doing your thing. It's like finally stopping a leak you didn't even know was draining you.

And maybe that's the real journey - not trying to force ourselves to grow in inhospitable soil, but having the courage to keep searching until we find the environment where our particular kind of strange and beautiful can fully bloom.

Sometimes the grass really is greener.

But you know what's the real jackpot? It's when the people we deeply value and appreciate find value in the same things we do. When those whose opinion truly matters to us speak our language of worth, see beauty in what we see as beautiful. That's when everything aligns - when the soil is rich, the sun is bright, and the ones we care about most understand and celebrate our particular kind of weird.