Bold journeys are paved with our shared stories

Bold. Journey. Two incredibly important words. They're also the name of the platform I most recently shared a part of my story with.

I love a good story. Reading one. Hearing one. Telling one. As far back as I can remember I've loved this way of engaging with the lived (or dreamed) experiences of others, of exposing myself to the lives and adventures of others, the knowledge of others, as well as their diverse range of perspectives. And story telling is so key to connecting with ourselves and each other.

When I was younger I read a lot. A lot, a lot. I was the fifth grader who left the library with two arms full of books, whose backpack probably weighed as much as she did once she put the precious cargo inside to carry home. But that wasn't only place I "sourced" my literature. This photo is a picture of that same fifth grader, on my 11th birthday, snuggled up beside my Grandpa doing what we always did on Sunday's - reading the Sunday funnies together (which was always accompanied by eating our "fat pills" - Grandpa speak for doughnuts). For yeeeeeeeeeears we held that tradition - right after morning church there were doughnuts, funnies, and shared love.

As much as I loved reading the funnies with him, the real treat was learning from him. You see, no one could visit Grandma and Grandpa's house and not learn something. Grandpa was passionate about learning. He was one of the key figures that instilled a sense of wonder and curiosity in me, by sharing the things he learned AND the things he'd experienced.

Grandpa never completed the 8th grade. And despite the fact that he'd traveled the world (by way of multiple branches of the military), oversaw millions of dollars in equipment, & supervised more people than I can imagine, I truly believe that his (subconscious) insecurity about his "lack of" education is what fueled his passion for learning & sharing knowledge. It was as if he took it upon himself to prove to everyone else that he knew a thing or two (if you ever spent an afternoon with him, it was obvious he knew sooooo much about sooooo many things) in order to prove his value, despite his education being cut short. And in the process he sparked a fire in more people than you can imagine to be curious, to open themselves up to something new, to connecting and sharing and giving permission - via story.

I learned so much from my Grandpa, and so much of that is evident in the ways I appreciate and value life now - My love for Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. My adoration of "oldies", including a deep-seeded fondness for Gene Krupa, Louis Armstrong, and Glenn Miller. My thirst for information and learning - through conversation, podcasts, books, and shows. My ability to be patient, listen, and be open while someone else shares. Grandpa held me to a higher standard, exposed me to a world beyond myself, and showed me an amazing amount of love and affection. The other place that story showed up in our lives through family. I was able to experience my Grandpa (and Grandma) and their families in a way that my brother and sisters were never able to. Family Reunions. Seeing aunts and uncles and cousins at church every week. Racing around the yard for birthday parties at my Great Grandma Robinson's. Listening to Great Grandpa Cecil's dry jokes (I still love dry humor, to this day). Playing "Trouble" on a Sunday afternoon at my Great Grandpa Thomas'. It was because of all those experiences that I not only felt and experienced my family in ways others didn't, but I also had soooooooo many pieces of the puzzle, MY puzzle, our families puzzle, shared with me. I heard the stories and the side conversations. I felt the energy in the rooms - sometimes full of love and light, other times tense and guarded. I knew who was who - which second and third cousin belonged to who and how they were related to me, and who their parents and their parents parents were. I think about how all of this translates to what I do now, my gifts. How such commonplace seeming things shaped the entirety of who I would become, and how that directly translates into helping others better understand themselves. And that's the thing, right? It's our own lived experience, it's the things we've been exposed to, the lives that touched ours first, that mold our unique abilities. But how often do we take the time to understand where we came from, what molded us, what influenced us, before we cast judgment and criticism on who we are as individuals? I'm lucky because I heard the stories, I saw how our lives were shaped, how our people interacted with one another, and witnessed things (sometimes between people, sometimes a photo or a document) that kept adding to the pieces of the puzzle. I realize not everyone has been that lucky. But that's the beauty of it, you see. Even if that wasn't your experience, you still have the opportunity to learn - from your family, your past, yourself, who YOU are as a person and how your past experiences (and those of your family) have shaped YOU. You have the ability to dive in and give yourself the gift of understanding - and the power to decide what you want to do with that information (free yourself, let go of guilt and shame, remove the judgment, evolve, love ALL the pieces of yourself). A lot of what I learned about us (our family) was done through exposure. But a lot of it was also something I had control over - conversation. Conversations are KEY to better understanding ourselves as individuals AND as a whole. I don't think I'll ever be able to ignore the quirky jingle about assumptions for as long as I live - Assuming makes an ass out of you AND me". Why are we so quick to assume things about ourselves, to accept our "fate", to shut down the possibility of something bigger and better for ourselves? Why are we so quick to assume someone else's motives or ability, without first hearing and understanding their own encounters? It's when we talk about things, ask new questions, seek to understand, that we take away the power things hold over us and find clarity, solidarity, and connection. It's in talking about things that we release the shame. It's in asking others about their experiences that we find out it isn't "just us", and give ourselves hope. It's in accepting ourselves that we lean more into love. When I think about how my Grandpa carried himself, I never got the feeling that he was critical of himself. What I did see is a man who knew what he came from, that held himself to a higher standard, and expected the same of everyone else. He loved us all fiercely and tenderly at the same time. Maybe he was overcompensating for the education that stopped too soon. I'll never know. If that was the case, the most beautiful gift resulted from that - a deep rooted desire to understand how things works, and a deep passion for sharing information with others.

Don't you understand? There's nothing about yourself you need to "fix". Your most beautiful gifts exist because of what you went through - not in spite of. That doesn't mean there isn't pain, or hurt, or regret. That doesn't mean you can't want different for yourself. What it does mean is..... YOU. ARE. NOT. BROKEN. You always have been, and always will be whole - no matter what. Oh, and my BOLD JOURNEY - part of my story I recently shared via interview, you can read that here: https://boldjourney.com/news/meet-rebecca-thomas/. - All My love 💗