by Lucretia Ackfield | May 1, 2020 | Author, Books, story |
A friend of mine is a beautiful writer. As yet unpublished, she finds herself compelled to blog about her life and her experiences. Increasingly this involves writing about loving men, toxic masculinity and the changes that are needed.
Tonight she asked me if there was any point. She is but one woman, sitting alone in her home, writing about some lofty aspiration she would like to see realised. What could sharing her thoughts possibly change?
My response was, “Did Shakespeare change the world?”
Whether you love Shakespeare (like I do) or loathe him, there is no doubt his stories changed the world. His plays were artfully composed commentaries on daily life. His words shone a light on the tragedy and comedy of the human experience.
I daresay Shakespeare doubted the power of his work. What could one playwright change in the world? I’m sure he changed quite a lot.
Our words are powerful when they reach the right people. But we can’t always know who the right people are because so many of us hide our true struggles behind a nicely-presented and socially acceptable façade.
If you feel compelled to share your stories, your perspectives and your passions about how we can make this world a better place, then don’t hesitate.
If you feel compelled to share stories that will entertain, explore or challenge, then share those too.
My friend feels compelled to share her stories because they are meaningful and reflect her experience. You can be sure they will resonate with others too.
Real stories are like that. They reach the right people who need to hear them at the right time. But, as storytellers, we may never know those details. We can only assume that when we feel called to share our story, someone out there needs to hear it.
If you are hesitating to share your story and speak the truths that others need to hear, reach out and let’s talk. This is one of the things I specialise in – helping Anonymous Storytellers to share their stories with the world.
by Lucretia | Jan 15, 2019 | story, Writing |
Our eyes met briefly as
he lifted the small cardboard box filled with a couple of TV dinners and some
cat food, but it was enough for me to see far more than perhaps a lot of people
do.
He’d noticed my
solitary purchase sitting on the conveyor belt minutes earlier. “Dinner?” he
asked, glancing at my lone block of chocolate. “Absolutely,” I laughed.
He’d attracted my
curiosity as I approached the line-up. I hadn’t seen an armed officer for a
while and the gun on his right hip stood out. I wondered if he was on a break
or about to finish his shift and head home. Do police officers take their guns
home with them these days? It seems unlikely. Wouldn’t they be locked up safely
at the station somewhere?
These thoughts wandered
through my head before and after he jokingly questioned my purchasing choice.
There was something about him that intrigued me. He seemed awkward while
waiting in line, disconnected somehow but also hyper-aware of his surroundings.
He wore long black trousers and a blue business shirt. He was overdressed on a
Sunday when compared to everyone else. Yet, he had the look of someone who
could fade into the background easily. Nondescript. I guess that’s a good
quality to have in his line of work – to not be seen.
His purchases marked
him as a single shift worker with a cat. Or perhaps a married shift worker with
a cat. I didn’t catch sight of a wedding ring but I know many officers don’t
wear one – it’s to prevent giving away personal information when they’re working.
This seems reasonable when you consider the kinds of people they have to deal
with day in, day out.
It also explained that
look before he left. It was the look of a man who had seen too much and was
left with a repair bill that was rather exorbitant. I considered what the woman
who is with him or would be with him in the future would need to navigate. A
man like that would be tough sometimes. Closed. Damaged. There was trauma in
those eyes. How do you cope with seeing so much pain and ugliness in the world?
How do you avoid that seeping insidiously into other parts of your life?
Perhaps it occurs without you being conscious of it. It just becomes part of
you, something you carry around and never quite release.
Was it his energy that
made him so interesting to me? My gaze had returned to him repeatedly. I could
also feel his awareness of me the entire time we stood in line. Did he sense me
watching him and that’s why he looked up as he gathered his purchases? Or did
he simply want to appreciate me one more time before he left?
I don’t know. But he had the eyes of a man who had seen too much. And the soul of a man who had felt love too little.
#observationalwriting #lucretiaswords #sundayshopping #writing #author
Photo by Kai Oberhäuser on Unsplash
by Lucky Lucy | Jul 18, 2015 | self development, self discovery, Sense of self, story |
A while ago I found myself advising a friend that he should tell himself a different story. He was really down and hard on himself. He felt like he couldn’t make any headway in the direction he wanted to go.
‘Tell yourself a different story,’ I said. ‘That story isn’t serving you anymore so tell yourself something different.’
Ironically, today I found myself saying the same thing…to me. And then I laughed aloud. It’s funny how the advice you give to others can often be just as useful for yourself.
I’ve been telling myself a story in one part of my life and that story isn’t serving me anymore. So now I need to tell myself a new one.
So often, particularly after something disappointing or hurtful happens (once, twice of maybe many times), we hold onto the story of that situation and then look for ways to validate it. We ignore the wonderful things right in front of us, i.e. the parts of our lives that are working beautifully, and instead focus on that same outdated story from the past. And by focusing on the story of our past we are doomed to repeat it.
Now I’m not saying your story wasn’t valid. Something happened to cause you pain and you should absolutely acknowledge, grieve and then heal that wound. But if you keep telling yourself that story, it will be all you ever see. It will restrict your life, confine you to the past and prevent you moving forward. And that would be a tragedy because there is a world of potential staring you in the face right now. I guarantee it.
So just as I hope my old friend eventually told himself a different story, one of hope, transformation and positivity, I plan to do the same in that part of my life where I’ve been holding back. Because that old story of my past is no longer serving me.
It’s time to let a new story begin
