The other night, I had a dream where I was in an apartment that was mine in the dream. (But, not like the one I live in now.) I was looking at the front door and the deadbolt had been ripped off its hinges and was nowhere to be found. The door knob was hanging off of its screws, just dangling there.
If that’s not a 2×4 over the head dream, I’m not sure what is. Perhaps someone specifically sitting down with me and saying I can’t keep things locked in forever, or that locking everything down doesn’t work… something like that.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Visible and Real recently. I mean, 13.1 miles to run/walk will give you that time, right? But I realize that part of the hiccups I’ve been experiencing in this space is that I’m still struggling myself to understand what it means to declare myself storyteller. That I understand it on a logical, this makes sense level, but don’t necessarily believe it.
And yet, storytelling is so close to my heart.
There’s been a disconnect here, I think. In part, it’s because practice helps me get closer to my storyteller-self. So, practice is what I’ve been focusing on (primarily) when I write here. Practice – for me – is such a huge part of what it means to tell stories. There are some people who can do it off the cuff and are wonderful. Me? It takes practice to get me talking, especially in the last ten years or so. In many ways, I’ve become less extroverted and less an open book than I used to be.
So, here’s to courage.
Here’s to opening pages of a book, slowly.
Here’s to learning what it means to declare myself storyteller.
I have no idea what that will look like. I just know I still ask myself the question, Who am I to declare myself storyteller?, and I know this is a process that is part of my whole life – authoring and writing and sharing and growing and stretching.
I’m still learning.
How do things become a part of your knowing? How does the change happen for you?
I appreciate all of you along on this adventure.