Each person you see carries their story just waiting to be told.
If you allow curiosity to guide you and there is gentleness in your voice you may be lucky enough to learn that story.
And if you are luckier still, some magic may unfold.
~~~
I began writing as early as 14 years old. By the time I was 17 I kept a journal and I have done so ever since. Now that is a lot of journals and I am sorry to whoever cleans out my stuff when I pass on. However, I have found them immensely helpful when going back to see just where I was before and how my life unfolded to get me to where I am today. I can read my struggles and triumphs with my present knowledge of how it worked out. I can reaffirm things really were the way my memories hold them. I can listen to my 18 year old self as she boldly sticks out her thumb to hitchhike across the country with just a backpack and sleeping bag and guitar. I can marvel at how my younger self stayed alive throughout the 18 months of this life-altering trip. I can look back and see when the subtle changes occurred that resulted in more absorbing (listening) and less doing.
I am at a place in my life where I want to do more listening than talking. I recently completed six years of teaching obstetrics at OHSU School of Nursing. I had 45 years of experience to share and some students were very interested and some just had to get through my classes to move forward with what truly interested them. I strove to make it all fun and to expand how they looked at birth and their role at the bedside. It was a great treat when a student would tell me at the conclusion of a lecture that they had dreaded sitting through this subject but then found that through stories (some tear producing) and laughter (yes, Birth can be that joyful) they actually liked it and learned so much.
Life is like that. We face plenty of moments where whatever we must do is wrapped in dread but after all is done, we realize there was important learning there for us. Some people are so ruled by the dread that they never lean in. So the growth never occurs even though it was there, waiting patiently to be embraced. Some students read email during my lectures. They just did not want to investigate what was inside the dread. I don’t love them any less.
So back to journaling. I encourage you to try it even if you aren’t a writer-type. Who cares? Nobody reads it but you. In my journals I wrote about the people in my life as well as my own thoughts. Their stories and what I learned from them shaped my life. Sometimes I would ask who I should have play ‘their’ part when they made a movie about my life. Those movie star answers are written in the margins next to their real names. Yet, the most important passages in my journals are always the ones that have the visible tear-stains on the page. I read those passages and can feel my growth and I am reminded how I got there. And for some reason this all contributes to how I can walk with confidence today. It reminds me of the mess I was and how I got here.
I am still a mess, by the way, but a more confident and relaxed one.