We all have a story promise in us. Something sown deep within that seeks to be released.
Perhaps some of you have that lump in your throat, that heart race, that visceral response in your body that tells you it’s time to make a promise. It may be time to give yourself permission to honour your story promise. Elizabeth Gilbert encourages us in this chapter to give ourselves permission to live a creative life. We don’t need anyone else’s permission or approval or validation. We need to write our own permission slip.
Brené Brown says:
I wrote my first permission slip on a Post-It note the morning I met Oprah Winfrey for the first time and taped an episode of Super Soul Sunday. It said, ‘Permission to be excited, have fun and be goofy.
One of my friends has four children. She home schools them because they live in a remote area. Every Wednesday she has someone teach her children while she sits in a café and writes. She has given herself permission to write.
When I was ten, my class went on an excursion to Woodbridge House in Guildford. As we wondered around my imagination fired. I pictured children running around the home, servants, workmen. I imagined myself there in the 1800’s. I was there. I could taste it. Smell it. Believe it.
Back at school we were told to write a story about our experiences. I wrote and wrote and wrote until the pen indented my finger, marking me for at least an hour after.
I have never forgotten the feeling of words flowing from my head, through my body, through the pen onto paper. I have never forgotten the physical mark of the pen on my hand. I’ve never forgotten the mark on my soul.
I’ve never forgotten the day I first dreamed of being a writer.
We need to honour the story promise in our lives. If we don’t, dissonance, disconnect and dissatisfaction derail our story promise.
Detours can take our story off on tangents, but can actually start to make sense when things collide in one of those magnificent moments that causes you to say, ‘This is what I was made to do.’
I taught English for many years. I encouraged others to write. I read other writers’ work. I wrote academic papers. I wrote. But, I was on a major detour. One I don’t regret at all, but there was another story to be written.
Ten years ago, I sat in my office and wrote a letter of resignation. It was time to honour the story promise of my life.
Since then I’ve published four books and have three more underway.
I’m living my story promise.
Big Magic QUESTION
Do you need to give yourself permission to honour your story promise?
Do you need to give yourself permission to keep the promises you made to yourself?
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