Recording the Journey

Consider that every life is a story of ups and downs, good times and bad, gains and losses, and all the things that we recognize as the stuff of life; but, we are unique and each of us has a story that is our own and unlike any other person’s story. Then each area of life is like the separate chapters of our own story.

We are the authors of our life stories with contributions from all the people who have touched our lives from parents and family, teachers, friends, enemies, acquaintances, cashiers, and all those imprinted on our brains from random meetings on airplanes, a walk in the park, and so on.

Sometimes the best way to understand why we do what we do is to  record the journey we have been on up to now, who and what has contributed, and then imagine what the next leg of the journey might be like, or how we would like it to be. A plan is where to start, and while I am convinced that life is better if we do some planning, I also know it will be better still if we remain open to the serendipity, luck, and mystery that lies ahead–all that we cannot imagine or anticipate.

The best things in my life happened while I was trying to execute another plan, which is not a denigration of planning, only a reminder that while a plan is good, we can’t be so devoted to the plan that we can’t be open to the surprise, truth, and beauty that may create a need to deviate from it, or rewrite it altogether. For, if we are too dedicated to a plan, we may miss out on something far better.

I am now writing the story of my struggles with weight and how I have learned to get control over the raging cravings that made life miserable for a few years. Looking back, I find I’m surprised that I was able to get through some things as well as I did, which sort of makes me the heroine of my own story, and I like to think of myself that way, rather than as a victim.

As long as we breathe, we are creating our life story, and it seems to me far more desirable that we feel purpose and intention, rather than just being flotsam carried along by the tide.

Yours in the telling of our stories,

Nan aka Sugarbaby


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