What kind of stories do you tell if you let yourself truly go? Are they amazing tales that mark your life and keep your imagination bright with all the colors of feelings and emotions and experiences that you let explode on your landscape? What is your life's topography? Hilly, rocky, changing depths, changing directions, colors exploding? Do your stories make you smile? Make you happy? (am I just a story to tell)
Or is your tale one of sound bites, muted by fear, kept small by necessity, reality? Tans and grays all kept dull, to fade into the background because you didn't dare stand out, be noticed. You don't dare grab the brass ring and run. Or even worse, you don't even try for fear you'll fall, or fail, and be laughed at. Who did you think you were - how on this day or any other could you be that good, that worthy of love, of happiness?
So look in the mirror little one, young or old it makes no matter, you are playing small. Look with eyes open wide. See beyond (around or through) the veil you hide behind - find your colors, paint them bright and bold - paint them with broad strokes and make them splash. Let them come alive. For you are letting life pass you by, by hiding. By covering who you can be, who you are. Don't be afraid. You have still many wonderful stories to live, to write, to tell.
