Happy Sunday, Reader!

Greetings from Sheboygan, where I'm sending a shout-out to moms everywhere, including my own, who I seem to appreciate more with each passing year. Love you, Mom! 👋

When I was in art school in the late nineties, the goth look was in. A significant segment of art kids wore all-black clothing, Doc Martens boots, and fingernails painted with dark colors. I found it fascinating to observe that the ones intent on bucking the system, sticking it to the man, and expressing their individuality all looked…exactly the same.

It’s scary to stand out.

We learn this at a young age, when simply being our weird, unique selves can lead to us being shamed and ostracised at recess, on the school bus, or even across the dinner table by a sibling or parent.

And so, much of life is a careful effort to blend in.

Just look at the cars we drive, most of which are either black, white, or some combination of the two.

Or how we take fashion cues from tastemakers and trendsetters because getting caught wearing something out of style is akin to death.

We must be careful to curate what we say in public for fear of being cancelled.

In the case of my art school companions, we even blend together in our rebellion.

Now, some would explain this as an evolutionary feature, not a bug. There’s safety in numbers, after all. We’ve learned to blend in because there’s danger in straying too far from the herd.

The thing is, we’re not here to sink to our base animal instincts. We were created for a higher purpose. We were made for greatness.

We are born originals. The problem, as St. Carlo Acutis observed, is that most of us die as photocopies.

As an artist, I sell prints of my work. Some of them are timed releases, some are limited editions, and some are open editions (available all the time).

I sell a lot of them, but they’re all really just fancy photocopies.

And none are worth as much as the original. A print sells for less than a hundred dollars. The original can sell for thousands.

Ask anyone who has purchased one of my original paintings, where you can see the texture of the canvas, feel the brushstrokes with your fingers, and observe the luminosity that emanates from dozens of thin layers of oil paint, and they’ll confirm: Nothing beats an original.

Sadly, too often we settle for being photocopies.

It’s been said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Maybe if someone else is imitating us.

But if it is we who are doing the imitating, then imitation is the sincerest form of boring.

It is good to learn from those who came before us. It’s possible to find a measure of success by imitating someone else.

But the best you’ll ever be is a second-rate version of them.

This is not a call to stand out for the sake of standing out, or to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s about having the courage to be more of who you are. It’s a reminder that safety should not be our highest virtue.

You are free to opt for the safe path. Most people do.

But you will not be able to escape the gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, the quiet desperation, the ever-present sense in your soul that there’s more to life, and this ain’t it.

The reason I made the hero in this painting red was because of the lesson I learned from red shoes. After years of wearing safe, plain, predictable shoes, I started pining for red ones. The people I saw wearing red shoes always seemed to be so brave and adventurous, somehow getting more out of life. I wanted that, but I was afraid. I was afraid of standing out too much, but mostly I was afraid that I’d be found out as a fraud.

Adultitis tried convincing me that I wasn’t one of those “red shoe people.” I wasn’t fun enough, brave enough, or free enough.

Eventually, I stood up to Adultitis and got the red shoes. The fears ended up being empty threats. I’ve worn red shoes on stage for every speaking engagement for about two decades now. I love ’em. They make me feel more fun, confident, and free, like a guy who decided it didn’t matter what other people think.

Of course, red shoes are not the secret to defeating Adultitis.

Being brave is.

What are your red shoes? There is probably something in your life you’ve always (but probably secretly) wanted to own, do, or be, that you’ve talked yourself out of. Maybe Adultitis sold you on the idea that you’re just not “that type of person” and it would be safer to blend in.

But maybe you actually are that type of person.

Maybe the fear is a smokescreen keeping you from becoming all God created you to be.

Maybe twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery will open the door to a new level of confidence and unimaginable opportunities.

Maybe your example of standing out from the herd will be the spark that lights the way forward for someone else, giving them courage to be brave, too.

Is any of this safe? Hell no. Of course not.

But it’s the only way to feel alive.

When was a time in your life that you bravely stood out from the herd? Is it time to do it again somehow? Share your thoughts with me, join the conversation in the Escape Adulthood League, or spend time this week recording them in your journal.

Stay young and stay fun,

"One of One" Prints & Original This nbrand ew art from Jason is now available in a variety of sizes and formats, including a timed-released Mini*Print only available until July 27, 2026. Shop the Collection

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