Take the Opposite Path.

“I never copied anybody.” Elvis Presley

“I don’t know exactly what those women are screaming at,” Elvis Presley once told a reporter. “I just try to be myself.” As humble as that sounds, Elvis knew the only one way to stand out from the hundreds of aspiring artists was to bedifferent. In other words, it was a conscious decision.

Like all great artists—or anyone unique—there are always two paths to choose. One is to be like everybody else. The other is—don’t.

We don’t trust our singing talent, for one thing. Nor do we imagine swivelling our hips will get us anything but arrested.

That’s not always easy to do. It seems we’re trained in sameness. Whether it’s schools or our family, we’re taught to be accepted. Doing what we’re told is important. So is following the rules. Even Elvis admitted he wasn’t trying to be a rebel. He just couldn’t help moving to the music.

We can admire someone like Elvis Presley. That doesn’t mean we’d ever follow a similar path. We don’t trust our singing talent, for one thing. Nor do we imagine swivelling our hips will get us anything but arrested.

In some respects, we’re all standing on the doorstep of Sun Records with hundreds of other artists, hoping to get recognized.

That said, if we look back at our lives, we can see where we could have been different. According to scientists, it’s in all of us. We all have unique genes that make us particularly good at something.

So how do we find that “opposite path”? Like Elvis, sometimes brought on by circumstance. In some respects, we’re all standing on the doorstep of Sun Records with hundreds of other artists, hoping to get recognized.

It’s a matter of realizing we’re not going to get recognized—or be anything—if we don’t do something unorthodox.

Here’s an example of what happened to me way back in the 60s:

I wasn’t a good student. In public school, the principal told my parents I should quit and learn something like small engine repair.

Maybe he felt guilty afterwards. He decided to let me join the school dance committee. There was no money, so I wrote to all the soft drink companies. I did the same with the grocery stores. Four days later, ten cases of soft drinks were delivered to my house, twenty packages of hot dogs and the equivalent number of buns. I also supplied the band (playing rhythm guitar).

Nothing I’ve ever done was successful when I tried being like everyone else.

In high school, I had one of the lowest CAAT scores. After graduation, with no hope of getting into a university, I took a year off, worked in factories, then became an assistant manager at a shoe store.

When the manager left at five o’clock, I brought out a stereo, turned up the music (disco), and told my staff to have fun. We had the best three-month sales figures of our franchise.

I can’t say that I was trying to think differently. All I knew was I couldn’t approach things normally. It didn’t work. Nothing I’ve ever done was successful when I tried being like everyone else.

Yet, each day, we see notices of promotion, people getting press, people getting recognized. More often than not, they get it for being “normal.” The only time we perk up to the “abnormal” is when someone like Richard Branson tell us he’s always followed “the opposite path.”

We admire Richard Branson. He’s done amazing things. So why aren’t we trying to be like him? Why do we watch movies filled with underdogs? Why do we live vicariously through others?

On the Big Bang Theory, Leonard admonishes the gang for spending hours and hours playing super heroes yet, in their real lives, they can’t even comprehend doing anything brave.

How many of us do anything brave? How often do we fall back to “normal,” saying: “I’ve got my family to think about, the mortgage, the payments on the car”? How many of us have built a wall of responsibility, justifying why we can’t — or won’t — move outside our comfort zones?

In Dr. Seuss’s “Oh, The Places You’ll Go,” he writes: “You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself any direction you choose.” He extols confidence, saying: “You’re the best of the best,” something parents have taken to heart. They tell their children the same thing, echoing Seuss’s last words: “KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!”

We tell young people they can “MOVE MOUNTAINS,” forgetting that it takes more than “optimism.”

To quote Richard Branson: “You have to fight tremendous resistance.” That can’t be done with optimism (silly or not). It takes a great deal of originality and, above all, guts.

John Manley, president of the Canadian Council of Chief Executives, pointed out in a speech recently that young people “lack the ability to think critically or work in teams.”

Stagnant economies are the product of this kind of thinking. Everything runs along until we find ourselves in another recession.

When Manley talks about the ability to “work in teams,” it isn’t idea- building, it’s consensus-building. This is supposed to grow out of the chief executives’ mandate. If you accept, believe and process their mandate, then you’re what Manley considers “employable.”

Stagnant economies are the product of this kind of thinking. Everything runs along until we find ourselves in another recession. Then the Manleys of the world blame it on declining markets.

Richard Branson will tell you there are no declining markets, only narrow thinking (standardized) that reduces the ability to see opportunities.

When I was selling shoes, we were in the midst of a recession. Consumer confidence was low. Stores around me had sales galore. We stayed away from flat 20% off specials. It showed desperation. We turned up the music. Our sales grew right through January, what the Merchant’s Association called that year “A disastrous month for the retail industry.”

I hear people talk about how “everyone’s opinion should be worth the same.” All this does is produce sameness. In a room of ten people, 90% are going to be normal. They expect that of themselves. They follow party line.

We place a lot of emphasis on “normal” yet, by it’s very definition, “normal” doesn’t allow for expansion.

Get out there in your minivans with your 2.5 kids and designer dog, and raise awareness for the average! Be an advocate for your own, wonderfully middling life.

Let’s look at the definition of “normal”: “Conforming to a standard; usual, typical or expected. Synonyms: usual, standard, ordinary, customary, conventional, accustomed, expected, wanted.”

One woman, named Caitlin, wrote in her blog/post: “I am an advocate for average. Average is wonderful; a cause worthy of advocacy…Get out there in your minivans with your 2.5 kids and designer dog, and raise awareness for the average! Be an advocate for your own, wonderfully middling life. Speak out for women in the middle everywhere! We are average and we’re happy!”

Caitlin — and many others — may be happy with “average,” but it’s hard to imagine them telling their children, “KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!” It’s also hard to explain to people like Caitlin that “average” is getting us nowhere in this world. Two back-to-back recessions should convince us of that.

You have to imagine yourself standing on the doorstep of Sun Records with hundreds of other unknown artists.

If we’re not teaching guts and non-standardized thinking, we’re not moving mountains. We’re waiting for someone else to do it. We’re on the sidelines, offering a cheering section to whomever does move mountains. But it won’t be us. Or our children. Or our children’s children.

In other words, if we accept normalcy, we’ll never follow “the opposite path.” You have to think more like Elvis. You have to imagine yourself standing on the doorstep of Sun Records with hundreds of other unknown artists.

Do you want to be an unknown artist? Or do you want to “MOVE MOUNTAINS.” It’s entirely up to you.

Robert Cormack is a freelance copywriter, novelist and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. For more details, go to Yucca Publishing or Skyhorse Press.