Belonging Looks Like Banana Ball

This weekend, the Savannah Bananas are coming to Denver to take on the Indianapolis Clowns. At first glance, that sentence probably doesn't sound like the beginning of an article about health and wellness. Baseball, banana costumes, dancing players, a stadium full of people doing things that would look completely ridiculous almost anywhere else — what does any of that have to do with taking care of the whole person? For me, quite a lot.

This weekend, I hope to bring something with me to the game: a few letters and rainbow infinity pins representing neurodiversity. They're small things, but the message behind them isn't. I want to say thank you — not simply for entertaining me, but for helping create a space that, in its own wonderfully unusual way, taught me something about belonging.

Wellness Is More Than What Happens Inside Our Bodies

When I talk about whole-person wellness, I use a framework of twelve interconnected domains. One of those domains is Community & Culture, and I included it for a reason. We can talk about nutrition, movement, sleep, stress management, relationships, emotional health, and purpose, but we also have to talk about the environments in which we live. Where do you belong? Where can you participate without pretending to be someone else? Who celebrates the things that make you different instead of simply tolerating them? Those questions matter to wellness, too, and strangely enough, a baseball team helped me understand that.

A Culture Where Different Isn't a Bad Thing

There is something fascinating about Banana Ball: being different isn't hidden, it's practically the point. People dance, players interact with fans, and there are costumes, celebrations, unusual traditions, big personalities, and plenty of moments where you wonder what exactly you're watching. And somehow, it works. Underneath all the entertainment, I've noticed something else — people are invited to participate.

I've had the opportunity to talk with a couple of the players, and what stayed with me wasn't their popularity or athletic ability, but their warmth. They were kind people, willing to have a conversation and make another person feel seen. Those interactions might have seemed small from the outside, but they weren't small to me.

The Rainbow Infinity

That's why I hope to give out a few rainbow infinity pins this weekend. The rainbow infinity symbol is commonly used to represent neurodiversity — the idea that there is natural variation in how human brains experience, process, communicate, learn, and interact with the world. For me, the pin represents something deeply personal: there should be room for different kinds of people to be fully human. I want the letters accompanying the pins to explain that, and to thank the people who, probably without realizing it, helped demonstrate what acceptance can look like. Because sometimes we affect people in ways we'll never know unless they tell us.

Community Can Change Us

Community isn't just the place where you live. It isn't simply your school, workplace, church, neighborhood, or social circle — it's also the collection of spaces where you learn something about yourself. Some communities teach us to tone ourselves down, act normal, try harder to fit in. Others seem to say: come join us, bring what makes you different, there's room for you here. Imagine the difference those messages can make over a lifetime.

That's why Community & Culture belongs in a framework about health. We don't develop in isolation. Our environments shape us, and the messages we repeatedly receive about who we are can affect how we see ourselves.

This Story Goes Deeper

There's another reason these letters matter so much to me, and it's a bigger story than I can tell here. My relationship with Banana Ball became connected to something much larger happening in my own life: unmasking. That's the story I'm sharing with my newsletter subscribers tomorrow — why this wonderfully unconventional baseball world became meaningful to me, what happened when I interacted with some of the people involved, and why I'm showing up in Denver this weekend carrying letters and little rainbow infinity pins.

Because sometimes health and wellness doesn't look like a workout plan, a perfectly balanced meal, or another list of stress-management techniques. Sometimes it looks like finding a place where different isn't something that needs to be fixed. Sometimes it looks like laughing, connection, or simply being seen. And sometimes, apparently, it looks like Banana Ball.

This weekend, I hope I get the opportunity to say thank you, because people deserve to know when the community they've helped create has made a difference.