Summer is Fast Approaching
Perhaps this is just my excuse to send you some Greek rays of sun, warmth, and carefree lazy days
There’s a lure many of us fall for throughout our lives—the lure of the intoxicating. The extraordinary. The stunning. The desire to dazzle others with our own Specialness.
I hear it from my clients all the time: the possibility of impressing their date, peer, boss, teacher, spouse, etc. — it can feel irresistible. There’s something compelling about being the person who surprises others by being extraordinary. It reassures us that we have value and something to contribute to our tribe, which offers us a sense of safety.
But after the glamor and the glory, it often leaves us hollow. That’s what I hear about most often from my high-achieving, perfectionist clients: the emptiness. A quiet but consuming loneliness. You’ve climbed the Specialness summit, only to realize you’re up there alone—terrified of falling, and yearning for connection.
True connection, it turns out, is rarely found at the pinnacle of Specialness and being better than others.
Yet so many of us continue performing, dazzling, and trying to reach or stay on that pedestal. And in the process, we trade connection for fleeting validation. Around and around we can go our whole lives, exchanging glory for emptiness, hollowness for more glamour.
With summer approaching, my mind recently wandered from this Specialness trap to memories of the cool, clear Greek waters of the Aegean—a relief from the heavy heat. Being half-Greek, I spent my childhood summers in Greece, often visiting some of its most treasured places. Although each one is special in its own way, there are two I often revisit mentally when I need to escape.
One memory is from the island of Mykonos, well-known for its iconic white buildings against an endless blue sky and sea. We stayed at a beautiful resort when it had just opened and was still securing its identity before becoming the playground of the glitterati.
More than anything, I was captured by the awe-inspiring views. White against blue can have the most calming effect and produce great breaths of life and sighs of relief. It was simply beautiful.
The second memory is from Corfu. If you haven’t been, I hope you get to go someday. The image at the top of this post is from there. During our stay, those sunsets were a daily event—each one magical.
But what left an indelible impression on me — perhaps even more than the view — was an experience we had at a small boutique hotel we stumbled upon during a walk. We weren’t staying there. We just wandered in, drawn by its charm. A caretaker welcomed us, gave us a tour, and invited us to enjoy breakfast — on the house. It was possibly the best breakfast I’ve ever had. The yogurt with honey? Unforgettable — even by Greek standards.
The caretaker sat with us and told us about the island, answered the many questions we had, and took care of us like his own personal guest.
The hotel was beautiful, but it was not a resort for the glitterati. It didn’t sparkle with models and fancy yachts parked outside. It had heart. The caretaker went out of his way to do whatever he could to help us have a meaningful and memorable experience on the island. It was how he treated us and how I ended up feeling emotionally that stood out to me and made this hotel the place I most long to return to.
I don’t share these memories to compare them, for comparison is one of the biggest cognitive traps we can fall into. It fuels all-or-nothing thinking and breeds insecurity. Rather, my hope is to share each of their unique offerings.
The luxury resort in Mykonos is stunning. The nature was breathtaking, the food indulgent. Its goal is to come across as Special and help its guests both feel Special and create unforgettable memories reserved for the few. Sometimes this will be the summer experience that hits the spot and offers a much needed recharge after a burnt-out, exhausting few months or years.
And then there’s the boutique hotel in Corfu that captured my heart. The experience was personal. It was the connection with the caretaker that was special, not just the view, food, or money and effort thrown at something to make it look Special. In just a couple hours over breakfast, I felt seen, appreciated, and fully taken care of. We and our unplanned visit were worth 2 hours of his precious time. It was an experience that continues to recharge me and calls my heart to return.
The appeal of Specialness surrounds us constantly: Be perfect. Be amazing. Become the unattainable.
The unspoken message? This will elevate you in others’ eyes. It will define your worth. You need this to succeed socially and rise in status.
And yet, the great irony of Specialness is this: The more we chase it by external metrics — impressiveness, beauty, prestige — the further we drift from the moments that are actually meaningful and most memorable.
Specialness, ultimately, isn’t created by being seen as better than others. It is about deeply connecting with each other and joining together in our beautiful, messy, and imperfect humanness.