I’m sitting in my local café, you know, my second office. It’s the place I come when I need some space and inspiration. Strangely enough the bustle, movement and background music gives me the peace and quiet I need to write.
The space is right, the deadline is here (and I love deadlines, they never fail to get me into action) and the music is great!
I’m in such a place of serene calm that each idea that surfaces just makes me smile and the page remains blank.
Every now and then email arrives in that 2 second flash at the bottom of my screen; enough to take notice and see the first few words, not enough to know the full content. The email tells me that my website is being erratic, my assistant is trying to resolve a problem, a client has a query, and my students are submitting material for review. And I’m distracted enough not to write, but remain in the calm space of the blank page.
And then the story pieces start to show up…
We met after many months. I adore his energy, his humor. He is smart, original and his work is so important…and he’s broke. He’s SO good at what he does, and no one knows him. He’s convinced that his story is fine…yet he’s still struggling and telling himself more self-sabotaging stories.
She is flying high on the salary, the car, the great bonuses and the drugs. No, she doesn’t call them drugs, it’s just to get a handle on the migraines and the pressure. She’s loving life so hard, it’s killing her and every time she sees a movie, she cries. A little girl still waiting for daddy to approve of her…
He’s 10 years old and tells me that when he’s really tired he just sits on the ground with his legs crossed and imagines the light entering each part of his body. Starting from his feet and going right up to his head. It lights him up and relaxes him, when he opens his eyes he feels much better. I said, you’re amazing, you’ve taught yourself what takes most people years, to meditate. And he shrugs and says, must have learnt it in my past life…
She exercises regularly, eats healthily and sleeps like a log. She’s super-organized, remembers everything and never makes mistakes. She’s always on time, reminds everyone else about their commitments and bakes her own bread. She craves cigarettes and smokes whenever no one is looking.
The stories are all around us. Some fact, some told, some ignored and some assumed.
They are the people we know, the stories they tell us and the stories they tell themselves.
They are the stories that create our reality, from them and for us.
Did you find you? Did you find someone you know?
We always have a choice, the choice to tell stories that keep us stuck, stories that hurt us, or the empowering stories, stories that inspire us.
What you’re choice? What’s your story?
