We are exposed to so many different forms of stories in the course of day. Which really is one of the most interesting aspects of the world we live in today. Because each of the stories comes our way is an invitation.
It’s inviting you to put yourself into the plot and take on the roles of the characters. Giving you the opportunity to interpret the story in away that applies to us and the world around us.
Recently I was reading a book that my interpretation put me into so many different fastest of self reflection that will feed the Stewart within you.
While there are so many ideas that we could explore, it’s the final modern day tail that the book The day world ended at little big horn by Joseph Marshall.
Which involved a father sending his son off to college. At fist his son wrote his father on a regular bases. Then over time those letters slowly died off, until there where no more letters.
Which caused the lonely old father to ride his horse and buggy to the college town in search of his son. He asked around but no one knew of his son. Then at last he found his son speaking on some steps.
The man made his away through the crowd to hug his son. Who pulled away and spoke a sentence that cut me to the quick. “I do not know you old man.”
This story serves has an example of how someone can lose themselves so deeply they lose touch with their very core.
Once I put the book down I walked to look in the mirror to look at myself. Taking notice first of the signs of how I’ve aged over the years. Realizing just how much I could identify with the old man.
Then I came to see just how much like the son standing on the stairs I could see within myself too. I could recall just how insecure and looking for identity to be given to me.
Just like how the boy over his years in college would shed his Native American heritage. I too had lost touch of my heritage. Handing over the pen to write my identity and worth to those I thought I could trust.
As I thought deeper about the path ahead of the boy I wondered. Would he have a moment of recking such as I did. When that world he allowed to changed him would cease to be. Thus leaving him as lost as I was.
Then came this thought about how I’m not the only one past or precent to find themselves in that very space. Wether that narrative is given to us by our job, a relationship, or surrounding. A lot of seek those sort of things out to define us.
Maybe this happens because of what we are taught growing up, or we are just never taught to be proud of who we are. That is until those things that defined us are gone.
That brought me back to that very moment in the mirror, but not the nice clean mirror in the warmly heated room I stood. Instead it was the review mirror of my truck, sitting parked at that favorite old fishing hole.
With none around, thinking out loud about how I needed to find myself. This was almost three years ago now. Three of the longest, hardest, and scariest years I have ever seen. All because I allowed the world to give me that definition and worth.
By now tracing the lines on my face. Realizing they don’t just represent the aging process. They represent so much more. The lines on my face mark the trail I blazed.
The trail of defining myself and my own self worth. Some of those trails lead me back into history to right some wrongs. Other led me into the unknown to visit the forests of growth and development. All of which held one common theme. They all led me back to my heritage.
Back into the places I came from and things I valued before my compass went south.
You to have, or will these same lines upon which to connect with yourself. It’s the with in you, the heritage and values that can and will right your compass. Which will point you toward your truth worth. The one that no one can give or take away from you.