Disrupting the Rabblement

Can’t see the video? Click here.

Yay and hooray and other such words of jubilation. The online course that I’ve been hard at work on for the last few weeks will be launching next Thursday, March 17th.

Let me tell you a bit about it…

A Course In Courage: Your fear’s worst nightmare

The idea for this course came on the heels of my Random Acts of Courage project in January. While I was delighted with the traffic spike this blog received during RAoC, I was disappointed that more readers didn’t join me in attempting the challenges. I saw too many comments saying pretty much the same thing: “I wish I had the courage to do something like that.”

Well, A Course In Courage is for all those commenters and anyone else who may have thought similar. I want you to experience the same boost in confidence and self-empowerment that I felt after RAoC.

See, you don’t have to sit back all helpless like and wish for more courage. You can go out there and get it yourself. A Course In Courage will show you how.

What exactly will the course consist of?

Good question, glad you asked

There will be three main pillars of the course. First will be the challenges themselves, many of them the same or similar to those you saw me attempting during RAoC. As of this writing there are 80+ challenges in the course, with plenty of supplemental info there to help you make your own attempts at them. I’ve also broken up the challenges into different sets, so you can focus on overcoming a specific fear, or start with a bunch of beginner challenges to get warmed up. I’ve tried to ensure that there are plenty of worthy challenges there for everyone.

The second pillar of the course will be the community forum. It’s easy to chicken out of a challenge when nobody knows you’re doing it, so the community aspect of the course is there for everyone to hold each other accountable, to provide that little extra inspiration and motivation you might need to step outside your comfort zone. It’s also the place where we can discuss the challenges, ask questions, and report on our successes. I’m looking forward to interacting with everyone there, and I’m hoping we can all get together regularly for some Skype conference calls.

The third pillar of the course will be an email series, featuring at least a dozen exclusive articles on the subject of courage. After signing up for the course, you’ll regularly receive a new article in your inbox. I have several of those already written, and the rest are in the works. While the challenges aim to get you taking action out in the real world, the email series will focus more on the intellectual side of the courage dealio.

There will also be a resources section in the course but I won’t call that a pillar just yet since it won’t have much in it initially. Among other things, I’m aiming to eventually have in there a bunch of video interviews with some especially courageous homo sapiens.

Limited spots available

March 17th will be the beta launch of the course, which means I’ll only be letting in a limited number of people (no more than 30) so I can keep and eye on everything and make sure the course runs smoothly. I’ll work very closely with that initial group to ensure the course exceeds their expectations. I’ll be collecting feedback, making tweaks, and adding additional resources as we go.

How much will it cost?

Short answer: $10-20 per month.

I’ve decided to go with a subscription payment model for the course. I don’t want it to be just another thing you spend one lump sum on and then forget about (I’m often guilty of this myself; I’ve bought a bunch of ebooks and online courses in the last few months and have yet to give them a second glance). I figure a subscription model provides extra incentive for you to get stuck in, and weeds out anyone who just wants to throw money at a problem but not actually do any real work to solve it (this course isn’t for you guys, sorry).

Really, it shouldn’t take you more than a month (two, max) to receive all that A Course In Courage has to offer. I hope to see folks signing up, diving in, experiencing unprecedented levels of self-confidence and empowerment, then canceling their subscription before that first month is up.

Now, since I’m only launching the course in beta mode next Thursday, I don’t feel it’s fair to charge the full price to the early adopters. So for the first month the cost of the course will be $10. Assuming I get all the bugs worked out and some helpful resources added by April 17th, the price will then go up to $20 per month.

Reserve your spot

Does this course sound like something you’d be interested in? If so, sign up below to get priority notice for the beta launch on March 17th. As I mentioned above, space will be limited, so admittance will be granted on a first-come, first-served basis.

[UPDATE: No longer taking reservations. Check the A Course In Courage website for more info.]

I pinky promise not to do anything shady with your e-mail address, and rest assured that subscribing to the above list puts you under no obligation to join the course at any time.

Feedback welcome

This is the first time I’m launching a paid product, so it’s very much a learning experience for me. Even if you’re not interested in the course, I welcome whatever feedback you might have. Leave a comment below or contact me directly via this page.

The above video is a Pecha Kucha presentation I gave about Random Acts of Courage back on February 2nd at Crane Lane Theatre in Cork..

…

Ah yes, Random Acts of Courage. Forgive me while I bring that whole thing up yet again. It was an unforgettable experience for me féin, resulting in unprecedented feelings of confidence, connection, and empowerment. One of the best weeks of my life, to be sure.

In case you missed it, the idea was this: go out every day for five days and do ten things that push you out of your comfort zone. For a full list of the challenges I attempted, see here.

Having had a bit of time now to reflect on the whole dealio, today I’d like to throw out a few of the lessons I learned that last week in January. Some of them were new to me, some just needed reinforcing…

1. Courage is relative

Some people are terrified of heights, others are fine with the flirting thing, a few couldn’t understand why I was so nervous about shaving my head. This demonstrates to me that courage is relative. What scares one person is no big deal for another. And what scares us at one time doesn’t have to scare us forever.

The lesson here: It doesn’t matter what other people deem to be courageous. You know your own demons, and it’s up to you to slay them.

2. Practice makes courage

I’m convinced now that if you have an irrational fear (and most fears fit in the irrational category), the best way to overcome it is to stare that fear directly in the eyes over and over again. Rarely will the fear back off and subside completely, but you gradually build up an immunity to it, you come to understand that you don’t have to give fear the final say.

Case in point: I approached a significant number of beautiful women during RAoC. Early in the week my heart would be beating out of my chest during such interactions. But as the days passed and I got used to initiating spontaneous chats with attractive strangers, I noticed my pulse was less likely to act like such a nervous dipshit. I remember finding it remarkable how calm I was late in the week when I asked that supremely hot Polish girl for help with my flatulence problem.

All that practice had turned something I was fearful of (approaching attractive women) into a shruggable experience.

I’ve noticed the same to be true with public speaking, and I expect I’ll see similar in business as I step deeper into that world. The first few times are scary, but just keep staring your fear in the eye and it will eventually blink.

3. Drink is overrated

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m abstaining from alcohol for the whole year. I was a little wary about doing this because alcohol was always my trusty crutch in social situations, my liquid courage. How would I be able to approach that attractive woman or make myself go dancing if I didn’t have a buzz going?

Well, after a week of RAoC, I proved to myself beyond a shadow of a doubt that I no longer need that crutch. I know now that I can face and overcome my fears without alcohol.

In fact, I’m beginning to believe I’ll never drink again!

Sorry, Ireland. I hope we can still be friends

4. With power comes responsibility

The above realization brings about a new fear though. It dawned on me that first day of RAoC when I made myself go out to a pub all by my lonesome, strike up a conversation with an attractive stranger, and ask for her phone number (she gave it to me). Knowing now how capable I am of connecting with people on a whim, I can no longer sit home alone on a Saturday night feeling sorry for myself. It was easy before to let myself off the hook because I was convinced of my own powerlessness. That excuse won’t fly anymore.

I understand better now what Marianne Williamson was talking about:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

5. Our fears are generally overblown

All those things I was afraid of doing, now I wonder why.

Nothing bad happened to me during my week of challenges. I was never in any physical danger. I didn’t seriously upset anyone or cause my reputation any damage. In fact, the opposite of those extremes happened: I left many people better off than I found them, and my reputation seems to be better than ever.

I don’t believe I just got lucky; I believe this is how life works. The things we fear the most are the things we most need to confront. That’s where the biggest growth opportunities are to be found.

6. You can’t connect with everybody, but you can connect with more people than you think.

We humans are social animals. We crave connection and belonging. There are many outside influences which strive to tear us apart, to convince us of our separateness, but beyond the conditioning we’re all just looking for love and acceptance. I got many glimpses of that during RAoC.

There were some people I couldn’t connect with: that old guy who looked at me with pure disgust when I offered him a free hug; that family who were in no mood to see my silly street magic; the lady in the travel agent’s who saw me as just another penny-pinching customer. And many more, come to think of it.

But I shrugged those folks off and moved towards the more receptive souls. Once I started looking, I found them everywhere, in all different shapes, colors, ages and sizes. Strangers would open up to me, happy to share their time and attention. I was usually the one initiating the connection, but once I put myself out there they’d come and meet me halfway. I realized that they wanted to connect just as much as I did, they were just waiting for permission.

7. Choosing words and targets

I learned a lot during RAoC about how and who to ask for things. It’s important to choose the right words and the right target.

For example, to get up on the roof of the City Quarters building I had to make sure I explained myself to the gatekeeper, rather than have someone else do it for me. Nobody can sell you like you can.

Another example: trying to get a piggyback ride from a stranger. I asked a group of young fellas because I suspected they’d egg each other on and one would eventually do it if only to impress his friends. That turned out to be true.

8. Outcome independence

Making something a game and focusing on the process is a good way to succeed in the end. That is, when you forget about the outcome and just have fun with the doing, you’ll generally end up in a good place. Deepak Chopra calls this the paradox of intention and detachment. You define what you want success to look like, you set that intention, and then you forget about the destination and focus on the journey.

For RAoC, I did my best not to get hung up on completing the challenges. My goal was to simply make at least three attempts at each of them. If I succeeded along the way, great. If I didn’t, well at least I’d given it my best shot and had some fun in the process.

9. You don’t have to live your life the way other people expect you to

I’m stealing Chris Guillebeau‘s line again, but only because it’s so feckin’ true.

When you live your life according to other people’s expectations, never venturing towards the fringes, you live a life of unfulfilling mediocrity. To have exceptional experiences you have to do exceptional things. (Note that exceptional doesn’t have to mean crazy or attention-grabbing. Simply striking up a conversation with an old man at the bar and listening attentively to his life story, that counts as exceptional.)

Life is a lot more fun and fulfilling when you figure out exactly what you want to get out of it and proceed to think and act according to those expectations, nobody else’s.

10. Boredom = laziness

We often sit at home bored out of our minds, figuring we have nobody to hang out with, or no money to spend on entertainment. What we forget is that there’s a whole world out there for us to play with, most of it free of charge.

All you need to entertain yourself and find some meaningful experiences is a little creativity and a willingness to step outside your comfort zone. Talk to strangers, be playful, have a blast. It really is that simple.

How to be more courageous

Lastly, a quick reminder that I’m building an online course around the Random Acts of Courage concept, set for a March 17th release [UPDATE: the course is now live]. The course will help other people experience the same high that I did during and after RAoC. If you find yourself struggling to step out of your comfort zone and face your fears, it could be just the thing you need. I’ll have more details as we get closer to Paddy’s Day. Stay tuned via Twitter or Facebook for updates.

Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect. – Mark Twain

Sing it, Mark.

It used to bug me when people called me weird. They called me that when I went to live 4,000 miles away from home, just to be closer to my favorite basketball team. They called me that when I went vegetarian, and then vegan. Nowadays I get called weird for wearing strange shoes, for asking uncomfortable questions, and for owning only what I can carry.

I used to get defensive and argue with the critics.

No no no, I’m not weird at all! Let me explain… but I don’t mind being called weird anymore. I’ve actually come to love it.

See, I’ve come to realize just how much normal sucks. I’d much rather be weird, because normal people don’t live exceptional lives; they’re not the ones living up to their potential and making an impact. They’re too busy trying not to be weird, too busy being afraid to stand out, to truly make a difference in the world.

The good kind of weird

Not all weird is good. Look up some synonyms for the word and you’ll find awful, creepy and grotesque right alongside awe-inspiring, supernatural and uncanny.

I try not to be weird just for the sake of it. That’s the bad kind of weird. Good weird serves a purpose.

Different is better when it is more effective or more fun. – Tim Ferriss

If you can do something unorthodox to improve your life (without compromising your values), then go for it. Don’t let normal people talk you down.

Normal is scary

Normal people dislike weirdness because it’s unfamiliar, and that makes it scary. But I consider normality to be the real terror.

In my manifesto I tell the story of a fictional chap named Seamus, a representative of normality. He resents getting out of bed every morning, eats crappy food, struggles through his 9-to-5 and spends every evening in front of the TV. In the United States, normal is earning less than $40,000 a year, enduring a soul-crushing job, being overweight, growing up in a broken home and having thousands of dollars in credit card debt.

That’s what passes for normal nowadays, and it scares the hell out of me. I’ll take weird over that any day.

Why I’m weird

I’m weird because I’m vegan. Normal people aren’t willing to experiment with their diet, and never give much thought to where their food comes from.

I’m weird because I talk to strangers. Normal people keep their guard up, conditioned to believe that every new person could be a thief, cheat or rapist.

I’m weird because I don’t watch television. Normal people sit watching it mindlessly, several hours at a time.

I’m weird because I love to work but don’t want a job. Normal people want a job but hate to work.

I’m weird because I exercise every day. Normal people think that’s excessive.

I’m weird because I own just 57 things. Normal people buy “storage solutions” and become slaves to their possessions.

I’m weird because I go all in to make my dreams a reality. Normal people opt to wait until they win the lotto.

Being weird in Ireland

I was going to write here about how it’s tough being weird in Ireland, and how I can’t ever see myself living long-term in this country. I was going to make a joke about inner conflict, how somewhere inside of me there’s a weird dude doing battle with a leprechaun (oh look, I made that joke anyway).

I just realized though that the map I’ve been using no longer matches the territory. It was fairly easy being weird back in New Orleans. Folks there are pretty open-minded. I was expecting more resistance in Ireland. Growing up here, I knew it to be a fairly begrudging place, where standouts are traditionally mocked and ostracised. Before moving back, I accepted that I may have to endure a few months of ridicule and isolation.

I’ve been home for two months now though, and I can’t say I’ve had many problems. I’ve made good friends easily and feel more a part of the Cork community with each passing day. Sure, Ireland has undergone a significant change in recent years, what with the recession and everything, but I believe the big difference in my experience living here now vs. back in 2007 is internal rather than external. I’ve accepted and even embraced my weirdness, and everyone around me seems to have followed suit.

Chalk one up for your beliefs shaping your reality.

That said, I still plan to travel for the next 3-5 years. Lots more world out there

to see .

You’re such a weirdo

What makes you weird? Have you been embracing that weirdness, or keeping a lid on it for fear of what other people will think? I’d encourage you to let it out.

Remember, the real thing to be afraid of is being normal like everyone else. Nobody remembers mediocrity. Weirdos change the world.

Today I’m going to tell you my biggest secret. I’ve only ever told two people about this. My mother is one of them, and she’d rather I didn’t write about it. But I’m going to anyway. Sorry, Ma.

How it all began

When I was a baby I was in a lot of pain and my parents had to bring me to hospital to discover what was wrong with me. As it turned out, it was something the doctors called testicular torsion. I had been born with my left testicle all twisted up in a knot. The solution was to remove it.

So they did.

When I was about 13 years old and becoming more aware of all that stuff between my legs and sneaking peeks at adult movies and learning about this magical thing called sex, it started to dawn on me that perhaps I was missing something. Knowing I’d had some kind of emergency operation as a baby, I had a brief and awkward conversation with my mother one day in an effort to understand myself a bit better. She indeed confirmed that I only had one where most boys had two.

Balls.

For the next several years, I never spoke of it to anyone. I changed carefully under a towel in the school change rooms, avoided using public showers, and generally made sure nobody saw me naked. I was always terrified that someone would discover my secret, spread the word, and the whole world would laugh at me and my one lonely testicle.

The worst part was dealing with women. Just like any other heterosexual teen, I was fascinated by those exotic creatures who possessed even less testicles than I did. But whenever I had an opportunity to explore my sexual urges with a woman, I held back. I wasn’t willing to trust anyone with my secret, so sex was out.

I was handicapped. I feared getting too close to a woman, so I shied away from intimacy and failed to develop any social skills. Before I knew it I was 20 years old, had little self-esteem, and seemed destined for a life of loneliness and mediocrity. Some nights I would cry myself to sleep, cursing my luck, wondering why I had been dealt such a crappy hand.

Choosing different

I believe it was a few months before my 21st birthday that things began to change. I was never one for horoscopes, but something I read one day for Pisces in the newspaper stuck with me. The words:

There is a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow,

and soon you will find it.

That was all I needed to begin questioning my destiny. I started to wonder if I really had to resign myself to a life of shame and fear. I wondered if maybe there was something I could do about my situation.

Making it happen

I decided not to play the victim anymore. I mustered up some initiative and started brainstorming possible solutions. Cosmetic surgery was an option. I did some research and found a crowd in London who, for the small price of £5,000, were willing to cut open my scrotum, drop in golf ball-sized chunk of silicone, and stitch me back up again. They promised I’d end up looking just like a regular two-testicled tower of testosterone.

Brilliant. Sign me up.

The only problem was that I didn’t have a spare £5k lying around the place. So I spent the next several months working my ass off (Dunnes Stores, baby!) and saving every penny I could get my hands on. I remember not having a single day off for three weeks at one point. I became intensely focused on earning that £5k, looking forward to the day I could afford to have a strange Englishman take a scalpel to my privates.

That day finally came. I believe it was early in the summer of 2003 when I disappeared off to London for a few days and had the operation. Only my mother knew what was happening.

All went according to plan. They knocked me out, doubled me up, and I awoke a little while later in a hospital bed. I recall turning on the TV and watching some basketball before a nurse came in and congratulated me on my new nut.

The next day I returned to Ireland with a little more of a leftward lean. I finally felt like a real man.

No magic pill

The operation didn’t prove to be the solution to all my problems. I was disappointed to find that women still didn’t fall at my feet. I was still a college drop-out, wasting my potential working at a department store. I still didn’t really know who I was or what I wanted to do with my life.

I realized I still had work to do, addressing those deep-rooted self-esteem issues, overcoming years of self-doubt and unlearning habitual negative thought patterns.

But the operation did give me the boost I needed to get my real life underway. I had overcome a huge roadblock, and I began to understand the power I had to create my own reality. All it took was clarity, hard work and persistence.

I soon formulated a new goal to work towards. I decided I wanted to go live in New Orleans, where I could be close to my favorite basketball team and perhaps write about them. After a few years of hard work and persistence, I found myself in that reality, living that dream. Locker room access, a seat on the baseline and thousands of people flocking to the website I created. Good times.

Fast forward to today, and I have yet another goal I’m working towards. I’m setting up my own business which will allow me to do work I’m passionate about while traveling the world indefinitely. I know I can create that reality for myself, as I’ve done twice before.

Over the  years I’ve also managed to chip away at those negative thought patterns. I’ve developed real confidence and have come to trust my gut instincts. I love the person I’ve become and I grow and get to know myself better with each passing month.

What I’ve learned

Looking back, I feel grateful that I had to overcome what I did. For a decade or so I considered myself cursed, but now I look at my “disability” as a gift. Without it, I may never have had reason to dig deep and discover what I’m capable of when I put my mind to something. Not many people believe they can live their dreams, but I know I can. I’m one of the lucky few.

I tell this story now with the hope that others might benefit from hearing it. We all go through some tough times, feeling cursed, wishing things were different. But I’ve come to understand that those challenges and hardships aren’t there to break us. Rather, they exist to help us grow. They force us out of our comfort zone, and that zone expands in the process. We grow stronger, we learn what we’re truly capable of, we become better versions of ourselves.

A couple of years ago, I was still terrified that someone might find out about my secret. I was still fearful of being ridiculed. Now I don’t really care who knows. It’s not a big deal anymore. In fact, it’s a relief to let go and tell everyone. You all know me that much better now. I’m no longer hiding a part of me. It feels good to finally be myself.

A friend of mine unwittingly helped me get to this point, where I’m no longer embarrassed to tell my story. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer a few years back. He had to have one removed before the disease spread. Thankfully, the treatment worked, and he’s now cancer free. What amazed me was how he never tried to hide what happened; instead he decided to embrace the change and have fun with it. He was able to laugh at himself and his one testicle. Nobody could laugh at him, only with him.

I learned from my friend that shame and embarrassment are simply states of mind, and we don’t have to settle for them. We can choose more empowering lenses through which to view the world, and when we make that choice, the world generally responds in kind.

What’s your biggest secret?

What would happen if you were to reveal all? Would it really be that big a deal?

Probably not. I’m guessing the world would keep on spinning, and everyone would eventually get on with their lives. Maybe some folks would laugh at you or hold a grudge, but at least you’d no longer be hiding the real you. The people who really matter would respect that.

Come on. Grow a pair

A few noons ago, I went walking to find a park near my house in Cork. On the way back, I found myself heading towards a guy of similar age on a narrow footpath. As we closed the gap, I smiled a genuine smile and gave him a soft nod. He noticed, and after we had passed each other by, turned and called after me, “Do you have something to say?”

There was hostility in his voice. The question he had really asked was, “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Earlier today, as I strolled back home from my mid-morning walkabout, I noticed a girl about my age getting out of a car she had just squeezed into a tight parking space. I flashed a thumbs up and a smile as I walked on by and said, “Nice parking. Good job!”

She glanced at me like I was potential rapist, then turned and took off in the other direction without a word.

Of course, I’ve also received some positive reactions from strangers I’ve acknowledged in recent weeks, but incidents like the above appear to be the norm. People are generally scared of strangers.

And I don’t think this problem is exclusively Irish. I think you’ll find similar reactions wherever you find a big city. I was spoiled for the past three years living in a city (New Orleans) that seems to be an exception.

What are we so afraid of?

Hostile Guy somehow felt threatened by my nod-smile. Perhaps he thought I was making fun of him. Parking Girl was also scared, even though it was broad daylight and I was walking away from her as I spoke. Perhaps I look more like rapist than I realize :-/

I just got done watching this excellent TED Talk by William Ury. In it he defines terrorism and its opposite:

What is terrorism? Terrorism is basically taking an innocent stranger and treating them as an enemy who you kill in order to create fear. What’s the opposite of terrorism? It’s taking an innocent stranger and treating them as a friend, whom you welcome into your home, in order to sew and create understanding, or respect, or love.

Ury goes on to say that if we want to conquer terrorism, we must live and breathe its opposite. We must open up to strangers, freely offering our smiles and acknowledgments and kind words.

I find that not everyone is ready to receive however, as Hostile Guy and Parking Girl demonstrated. I suspect they’re watching too much TV and reading too many newspapers and as such consider the world a big bad place full of dangerous strangers.

Real dangers

Granted, sometimes the concerns are legitimate. There are rapists and murders and all kinds of unsavory characters out there. Not every stranger is flashing a no-strings-attached smile. I should know, I’ve been burned myself.

A few weeks after moving to New Orleans in 2007, I awoke from a drunken blackout in a strange bedroom with a guy’s hand down my heterosexual pants. I had met him the night before while walking home from a friend’s house. He seemed friendly and invited me to shoot some pool, so I went along. Turns out he wasn’t entirely trustworthy, and I know I’m lucky he wasn’t a bigger guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But despite that violation, and despite the rejections from Hostile Guy and Parking Lady, I persist in talking to strangers. I feel the reward far outweighs the risk.

A week before that strange man put his hand down my pants, I met another man waiting for the streetcar on the way to a Hornets game. I talked to him, he talked back, and we ended up becoming great friends, hanging out regularly and sharing countless good times.

Just last Saturday I was walking home late along the river when I spotted a guy locking up an odd looking bicycle just ahead of me. I was curious, so I asked him about it. An hour later, having chatted away to each other and sharing numerous stories and ideas in the pub across the road, we exchanged contact information and he let me test ride the bike. Yesterday I e-mailed him some requested critique about his website, and he sent me more details about upcoming PechaKucha events in the city. I know I have a little more faith in humanity after that encounter, and I suspect he does, too.

Beyond making friends

I don’t talk to each stranger with the hope that they might become my next BFF or be willing to share some information I find valuable. I talk to strangers because I’m a human being. As such, I like to acknowledge other human beings.

I see neighbors passing each other by in courtyards without so much as a word, as if the other person is invisible, and it baffles me. Why do we ignore each other? What are we scared of?

I suspect the problem is that most people are too self-conscious, so caught up in their own rambling minds that they can’t just be. They’re worried what strangers will think of them. They’re worried about saying hello and not hearing hello back.

I say screw that. Say hello anyway.

I aim for at least one no-reply per day. That’s when I say hello or otherwise try to engage with a stranger and get nothing positive in return. I’ve turned it into a game so I don’t end up scared and closed off like the zombie-eyed majority.

Recognizing zombies

I define zombies as those people who are living scared, afraid to talk to strangers, overly preoccupied with what other people think of them and perceiving anything unusual as a threat.

I’ve found an easy way to tell if someone on the street is a zombie. Just watch them waiting to cross a busy intersection. Zombies will fidget uncomfortably. They’ll take out a phone or adjust their clothing or look around nervously to see if anyone’s watching them.

Another way is to offer a compliment. Zombies generally feel awkward about compliments, and fearful when they come from strangers. He likes my hat. OMFG he must be a rapist!!

Conscious people generally respond to compliments with a simple and sincere, “Thank you!”

Holding back the big smiles

I’m a recovering zombie. I still get scared sometimes, and worry too much about what other people think of me.

I find it interesting how we can be more open with kids than we can with adults. I noticed this on a flight last month. A toddler came past my seat and looked at me curiously, as toddlers do. I gave him a big toothy smile and he smiled back. No big deal, except I find it difficult to offer the same all-out smile to adults. Part of it is my fear of rejection. Part of it is the other person’s fear of the unknown (Why is that person smiling at me? He must be a rapist!!).

When it comes to strangers, lip smiles are easy, you can pull them off even without sincerity. Toothy smiles, not so much. You have to really let go to deliver those.

Zombie rehabilitation program

I’ll end with a few suggestions to stretch your stranger interaction skills and keep that inner zombie at bay:

1. Every day, aim to say hello to one random person on the street. The more closed off they are, the better. If they get scared or angry at you for acknowledging their existence, just keep on walking.
2. Offer genuine compliments. If you like that girl’s hat, tell her you like her hat.
3. Introduce yourself to people who interest you. A good icebreaker I’ve found is, “Hello, I wanted to come over and meet you.” Say it while smiling.
4. Be playful. Zombies will recoil in horror at your playfulness, because life is supposed to be dull and miserable and your playful behavior is like a stake through their heart (or however you kill zombies). Non-zombies will be playful right back.
5. Deliver the biggest genuine smile you can muster whenever you meet someone new.
6. Stop watching the news.
7. Avoid hanging out with other zombies. That shit’s contagious.