Trails, Tasty Bites, and Rewriting Your Story

On stories

“But how can I rewrite mine?” asked bird.

“I think,” replied bear, “you just started.”

…
📷: Overlapping parts + pieces
…

His name was joy and he ate gingerbread cookies for breakfast, dunked into a rising sun, swirls of pinks and rose circling his cup.

His name was laughter and his eyes sparkled with mischief as sweet as the cinnamon rolls mom used to make in the early morning before we woke.

His name was stillness and as a child he would put his fingers in his ears as he closed his eyes, feeling the world dissolve into heartbeats and breath.

His name was shy and he often didn’t feel safe enough to say what he felt, so he watched the world from the side, quiet and nervous.

His name was imagination and his mind was always working, building stories like doors – opening and closing into worlds often more real than his own.

His name was light and squinting he watched the sun move across his lids, lashes blinking in splashed reds and orange.

I was riding up a trail last week.

The climb up was hard. And slow.

The stories I was telling myself were fascinating:

“Not fast enough.”
“Not strong enough.”
“Not in shape enough.”

And the internal dialogue was equally interesting, especially as I apologized to imaginary riders coming up behind me; making up reasons why I was so slow.

Yet, the same brain that cooked up embarrassment and apologies to riders that weren’t even there, baked these “His name was…” story snippets above, creating building blocks that make me smile.

What story can you rewrite today, even if just a sentence or a word or two of it, that turns the tale in your favor rather than against?