One of my friends has been telling me for three years about how she wanted to write her life story. She would tell me these amazing stories and then say that she wanted to put the stories in a book. But then she never begin writing about her life. I would hear the frustration in her voice as she would tell me about her desire to write the stories and her inability to do so.
I was talking with her last night. She started telling me some of the stories about her life. She's an amazing story teller. She has incredible presence. She speaks poetically. Even thought I'd heard some of the stories before, I was riveted. So I told her so.
I also said how I'd just seen a DVD of Carrie Fisher's one woman show, Wishful Drinking. I told my friend that she shared a similar talent. That it was a rare and special skill.
I said to my friend that trying to write about her life was clutter because it wasn't happening and it was making her frustrated. She didn't love and use it. Writing wasn't serving her.
But telling the stories was actually happening. Plus it brought her to life. Her whole being came alive when she told her stories.
Sometimes
we get caught up in the ideal of how we think something should be. But
it's not how it is. Then there is how we actually live. Each of us have a nature. Certain activities are sympathetic to our natures. Others are difficult and contrary.
Dropping the ideal and going where we feel animated and supported is a powerful clutter bust.
My friend decided that she would find a story-telling class so she could finally tell her story.