First. Best. Only.

“Thanks for reaching out, but we’re gonna go another direction.”

I grip the phone tighter not only because I want this job, but because I can go another direction. My life has so many directions that my personal crest is a compass rose. 

The phone voice continues with the answer to my unasked question about which direction they want to go, “We want someone who is the first, the best or the only.”

Without a further fight, I let the phone call end.

Story of my life. 

Denied an opportunity because I wasn’t the first to do something, the best in a particular skill or the only in a specific role.

No one wants to hear about the second guy to walk on the moon. By the time Buzz Aldrin’s boots hit the surface of the moon, it was already old news. Nineteen minutes old, to be fairly exact.

If you had to identify the sport of Sammy Lee, you might have a tough time. But if I told you it’s the same sport as Greg Louganis, I bet you’d have a better chance. Greg Louganis is widely considered to be the best American male diver. Sammy Lee is the second best. And while he has an interesting story, his name is much less familiar — overshadowed by the best.

And most people might think that Sully is the only person to have landed a plane on water, but he is not. He’s might be the first pilot to successfully land a commercial airliner on the Hudson River without injury, but he is not the only person to have landed a plane on water.

It’s easy to let ourselves be overshadowed by the firsts, the bests and the only’s. 

After beating myself up over what I can do first or what I could be the best at, I realized I am the only me, which makes me the first me and best me.

Because there is absolutely no one else on this planet who has the background I have.

There is no one else with my lenses of perspective and insight.

No one else with my diversity of experiences.

Then why have I always felt like an outsider? 

Like no one gets me.  

Like no one understands my contribution. 

And worse, that my contribution doesn’t matter.

It may have taken me 50-some years, but I’m finally realizing that we’re all on the outside looking in. 

But what we’re looking in at is us.

We are already a part of that thing we want to be a part of.

The thing we’ve been coveting is us.

Because, you are the first you.

You are the best you.

You are the only you.

Those things that make you uniquely you, those quirks, are your ticket to the main stage. The stage where you take the spotlight and are in charge of how that audience sees you, reacts to you, embraces you and follows you.

By realizing you are the first, best and ONLY you, you can disrupt the status quo and create balance in the lives you lead — at home, work and in your community.

By leaning into our quirks, we bring our own world back into equilibrium.

And when everyone leans into their own quirks, we swing our collective world into equilibrium.

A world where everyone is guided by their natural passions and talents.  

A world where everyone leverages their quirks.

A world where by being in balance with yourself, you lift up those around you.

Holy crap. I want me some of that!

We have to lean into that which makes us quirky.

We have to lean into that discomfort of thinking the world will find us weird.

You know what? You ARE weird. Just like everyone else around you.

Let go of the fear. Embrace and leverage your quirk.  Hell, NAME your quirk.  I did.  Her name is MoKolohe.

The “Mo” is simply short for more and “Kolohe” is rascal in Hawaiian. MoKolohe is a small, mischievous mythological Hawaiian artisan known as Menehune. Menehune are energetic, smart, industrious and strong, with special powers of craftsmanship and capable of supernatural achievements. They work together under the cover of darkness, passing materials hand to hand in miles-long bucket brigades to accomplish extraordinary feats of engineering. And with magic arrows, they pierce the hearts of angry people to ignite feelings of love, replacing fury with joy. Oh, and they are playful lot who love to dance and sing.

MoKolohe is important to me because we all have MoKolohe in us.

We’re hard-working.

We’re tireless.

We’re capable of astonishing feats.

And sometimes, just sometimes, we’re a little mischievous. 

Our world needs a few more rascals, so I’m hoping your quirk is just as mischievous.

Take the time to define all the roles in your life. Imagine your life as a runway, paved with all those roles, all those responsibilities that make you quirkily you.

And with any given role, look at the behaviors that bound that role.  How wide is your life’s runway for that character? Look beyond the runway edges, to the extremes of immoral and illegal or outright apathy and absence. Because in defining those extremes, you will establish your centerline.  That ideal manner of carrying out that role.

Once you define that centerline, take an honest assessment at your alignment with that centerline, your ideal state of being.

And based on that assessment, make your adjustments. Sometimes we need to let ourselves drift off course while we regroup.  Sometimes that assessment honesty reveals that we’ve been flying to the wrong runway and so we need to change our path. But, by God, if we know that our runway of life must continue to be paved by this particular role, then fight for that centerline. 

We have to do this for each role we take on and each role that has been imposed upon us. Whether you’re a sibling, a nibling, a cousin, child, parent, teacher, spouse, neighbor or friend. Each role has its own centerline. Each role deserves its own flight path. Each centerline deserves its own fight path.

So what makes you you?

What are all the you’s that are paving your life’s runway?

What are the boundaries of those runways?

Where does the centerline lie?

How are you doing with respect to those centerlines?

Is it the right one? Do you need to make some adjustments? Are you continually fighting for centerline?

I hope so, because there is only one you and the world needs you.