You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
When the best story in the world has already been written… why do I write?
Because writing is not a choice – and neither is telling stories.
Because stories are never finished.
Because the best stories in the world are written over and over again.
Because a story well-told depends on who you’re telling it to.
Because we all tell the same stories anyway, but that one little change, that one new interpretation can make the difference between touching someone or missing the mark.
But what IS the best story in the world?
I don’t know.
I do know they don’t have to be very elaborate to have impact:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
Ernest Hemingway
When someone, sometime, stumbled upon six words that can evoke so much… How can I NOT continue my own search for stories and the words to tell them?
P.S.: Credits to Jony Mitchell for writing the best song in the world.
P.P.S: Extra credits for singing the most heartfelt version even after suffering a stroke and having to relearn to talk and sing.
P.P.P.S.: Credits to The Tallest Man on Earth for showing that a new interpretation can make even the best song in the world reach new heights, and providing the inspiration for this post.
What do you see that others don’t even notice?
What do you feel that others don’t even seem to care about?
What do you like to do that most others never even entertain?
What do you write about that most others haven’t even considered?
And instead of seeing such differences as a societal warning sign, discouraging you from pursuing it…
Can you see them as an encouraging sign of unique contributions you’re about to make?
Embrace your individuality.
Which conclusions did I draw from past experiences?
Have I overreacted to petty events, and ignored beautiful moments?
Have I deleted memories? Maybe invented some?
Have I built stories based on generalizations?
Most importantly: how does the past I still feel affect my actions today?
And if I know a lot of it was my own interpretation… could I change my past, or at least what it means to me?
Would that set me free?
I was undoubtedly in a pensive mood when writing this.
I guess, given the daily letters I send you, you might conclude I’m in a pensive mood every day.
And you wouldn’t be wrong.
But pensive moods can be useful – when they’re coupled with conclusions and insights. Maybe even with Tiny Trust Builders.
And if any of these questions help you re-interpret your past and set you free, too, I’ll be a happy man.
A wistful win-win.
The normal want to be special
The special want to be normal
We all want to be what we aren’t
Because if you already are
How can you ever desire?
Maybe you’ll succeed.
Or maybe you’re destined to fail at this, to prepare you for your next venture.
And if you’re destined to fail… is failing really a failure?
Or is it a success?
Who knows whether it’s true or not.
But it’s definitely reassuring.
It’s about the way you say, “I’m tired, and I’m here anyway.”
It’s about the way you say, “I’m exhausted, I’m skipping this one, and that’s okay, because I’ll be back on track the next day.”
It’s about the way you say, “Come what may, I’m in this, and from my chosen path, I won’t be led astray.”
It’s about intentionality and elastic discipline.
It’s about direction.
Most of all, it’s about feeling good, not guilty.
