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Usually it’s because I’m too busy, but every now and again, I find that it’s because I’m actually content. Yet I truly believe that we cannot sculpt the adult versions of ourselves without a vision of the finished product or without the clay of experience. And this is an ongoing process.
There are always going to be elements we want to add, remove or adjust. And, of course we must maintain sculpting.
Experience comes from varied situations but often through the people we meet. Many of us can’t help but to see ourselves through their eyes. Sometimes we agree with the image they conjure up and other times we let them know just how wrong they are. And sometimes we are not sure who we are and who is ‘right’. We wrangle with the question of identity for most of our lives.
We question who we were, or who people thought we were; who we are or who people think we are and who we will be or who we will be remembered as. We sometimes hope for and other times hate their approval or the lack. These questions plague us in relation to body image and fashion; love and romance; morals and principles, and so much more. In reflecting we sometimes ponder the paths we didn’t take. We judge ourselves harshly or pat ourselves on the back.
And often we seek to teach others, especially those we love, by sharing what we have learned. Stories have guided us throughout our lives. I was given fables and fairy tales early in life, and parked in a chair for tales of the life and times of just about every leaf on my family tree. I am certain that there were days when I would tire of these stories or get anxious about whether I would have an equally fascinating tale to pass on. But I am equally certain that my mother understood and even meant to teach me, to prepare me for my adult life.
I think we all know stories that inspire us or have saved us from ourselves. I hope to share some of my stories with you in the weeks to come!
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