The Importance of Stories

Dear Old Friend,

I have had the great honor of knowing quite a few incredible people in my life. Some of them are incredible in the ways that they fall, yet summon the strength again to rise; some will mystify you with their beauty or wisdom; some will beat you to the finish every single time; and some will be incredible in the way that they have an obscure knack for torturing every fiber of your being. However, some of them are incredible purely in the way that they are so very different than absolutely anyone else.

There was a time in my life that I was known as the quiet one. I was not outgoing and I could not speak eloquently about anything. During this time, I resented most of the people I met because they were so very predictable – yet, so was I. It did not occur to me then that I resented the quality in them which I resented most in myself.

My life was perfectly splendid in all of the ways that it could have possibly been (thank you to my most amazing parents). There was always warm, delicious gifts gracing our dinner table that my mother so thoughtfully hid vegetables in for my brothers who were the very definition of picky and there was always a glorious amount of conversation at our dinner table. The oak anchor that kept us together as a family still stands strong, held together with all of our stories. If I could be a bright, appreciative creature full of wonder and crazy ideas at the helm of this table, why couldn’t I be the same out in the vast ocean that is the world outside my parents house?

Soon, I would forget to care what people thought about me and find my thirst for learning about people and how they, themselves learn. I discovered my talent for organization after living many years in the suit of a slob (ask Mother); and when I bit the bullets that were other people’s disapproval and went to college, I encountered the person who would encourage my love for adventure.

I have always been a very happy soul. I love mornings and the quietness of them, but it was in college that I learned to love the night. A boy who would later become my boyfriend took me on many adventures trudging through the muddy mountains and provided a place for conversations and stories that was as close as I could get to the oak table. Those long jeep rides up the mountain led to a fire at the base of a river, where we invented all the things people need to make their life easier and examined the causes of the predictability that has become so prevalent in our fellow students. When you find a friend who makes you stop and think, wow, what an incredible way to think of that – don’t let your pride get in the way of a good conversation.

When I graduated college and began my own adventure as a single lady kicking butt and taking names as they say, I found myself realizing that I had achieved my goal of being less predictable. However, I did find myself lost yet again wondering why I was feeling less bright. Again, my life was quite splendid. I achieved my goals of acquiring a job where I was paid enough to choose to buy the chocolate cake whenever I so desired and I heaved my urban body across the country side of Spain. I had earned the wisdom of how to change my oil and the sensibility to pay off my debts each month, but I realized I was being put back into that box of predictability once again. It was an evening in October that I determined that I could do anything. I felt that without a doubt, where ever I go or whatever I choose to do in the future, I could handle it. The one thing I could not do, though, was live without the stories. Telling stories kept me creative, solved my problems, and helped me connect with others. The stories that I had begun writing to share with the world had faded onto the bottom of my To Do list, but this evening I realized that these stories that helped me, could help break the chain of predictability in other people’s lives. It is my sincerest hope that at least one person could find their creativity, sense of adventure, or degree of sensibility from these impending books. Time to get writing!

xoxo,

Your favorite story-telling adventurer

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