Strories we love stoires

You may have noticed a variation on a theme in the last few posts. Stories. We love stories. They are how we understand the world and one another. When we hear a story that is persuasive, we take notice. It lingers. It connects us. Each of us finds different aspects of a story compelling, courage, humor, resilience, kindness, and that is why I’ve tried different approaches to the themes that I thought were interesting and important over the last few days.

We all want to be the heroes or heroines of our own story, which is only natural. After all, each of us has faced moments of challenge, triumph, and change. But when we look back on our lives, we sometimes tend to tidy up the details a little. We gloss over mistakes, minimize disappointments, and rearrange events so we come out looking a bit better in the telling. That’s understandable, who wouldn’t want to highlight their proudest moments?

Still, it’s important not to change or omit too much of the narrative. The person you are today is the sum of everything that came before, both the moments when you were the hero or heroine, and those when you played a supporting role in someone else’s story. Those supporting roles, the ones that may not have seemed important at the time, often hold deep meaning for others. The friend you encouraged, the family member you forgave, the time you showed up when it mattered most, all of these moments weave together to form the full story of you. The person we are today is a result of all the events in our lives, even those where we stumbled and fell.

Your story isn’t just about what happened; it’s about what you learned, how you felt, and how you grew. It’s about how you kept going when life threw challenges your way. And it’s about what you found joy in, big or small, along the way.

Memories are more than nostalgia. They are the threads that connect generations. They help us make sense of who we were, who we are, and who we are becoming. When you share your stories, you offer your family, and the wider world, a precious gift. Your children and grandchildren want to know who you were before they knew you. They want to understand where they come from, and how your choices, values, and dreams helped shape their lives too. For your children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren, your life narrative is a precious inheritance. Your story is their origin story. In a world that moves at a dizzying pace, your stories provide them with an anchor, a sense of belonging, history, and identity that they can carry forward

Think of the stories your grandparents or parents told you, the ones that stuck with you long after the conversation ended. Maybe it was about how they met, how they got through tough times, or a funny misadventure from years gone by. These stories don’t just entertain us; they root us. They remind us that we come from people who lived fully, who loved, who persevered.

Now it’s your turn to pass that legacy on.

The Dream-Wright’s Workshop: An Open Letter to the Masters of Time

 Let me let you in on a secret, one they don’t print in the manuals or the morning papers. It’s a truth so simple, so powerful, that it can feel like finding the hidden key to a forgotten garden:

People believe what they want to believe. And this, alone, explains what they have or don’t have.

Let that simmer for a moment. Does that make your entire flipping day or what?!

It means the world is not a fixed, immovable sculpture, but a lump of the most wonderful, pliable clay. And you, my friend, with a lifetime of fingerprints upon your hands, are the master potter. You have seen dreams take shape and you have seen some fall away. But the workshop is still open. The wheel is still spinning. The clay is still moist and waiting.

Some will tell you that the time for dreaming is behind you. They will speak of retirement as a finish line. But they have forgotten the oldest magic of all: Dreams come true, if you believe. That’s what they do. The only variable is when. And my goodness, what is time to a soul that has already collected so much of it? You have the profound advantage of knowing that "when" is a flexible, friendly concept, not a demanding tyrant.

Now, you have a choice of two paths to your dream. Think of it as two different recipes for the same magnificent cake.

There is the recipe for delay. It reads like this: Resist the first step. Attach yourself to every reason it might not work. Insist that it’s too late. Deny your own capabilities. Stop before you begin. Second-guess every single idea. Whine about the obstacles. Argue with your own inspiration. Defend your limitations. Protest that it’s just not the way things are done. Cry over spilled milk from decades ago. Struggle mightily against the current. And finally, ask others when you already know the answer yourself.

It’s a tiresome, familiar dance, isn’t it? You’ve probably seen this recipe before. It makes a very dry, unsatisfying cake.

But then, there is the other way.

This recipe is for the nimble of heart. It goes like this: Visualize your dream so clearly you can smell the sawdust of your new workshop or taste the tomatoes from your garden. Pretend you are already there, just for a moment, and feel the joy of it. Prepare one small thing today, buy the seeds, call about the class, check out the book. Dodge the naysayers, even the one in your own head. Roll with the small setbacks. Serpentine! Zig when they expect you to zag. Be unpredictable in your pursuit of joy.

Do not waver over intentions. A dream either is, or it isn’t. Alternate your approaches. If the paintbrush feels heavy, try the pen. If the wood is stubborn, try the clay. Release your doubts like old balloons, watch them float away and disappear. Show up, even when nothing happens. Sit in the chair, look at the garden plot, hold the instrument. Your presence is a promise. And most importantly, keep giving thanks in advance. Thank the universe for the beautiful painting not yet finished, for the thriving garden not yet harvested, for the melody not yet perfectly played. Gratitude is the fertilizer for dreams.

You need to believe in yourself not with the brash confidence of youth, but with the quiet, unshakable certainty that comes from having survived, adapted, and loved through decades. You have already built a life. You have already navigated storms. What is a dream but the next, most delightful project?

So, what will it be? The garden, the novel, the reconciled friendship, the learned language, the volunteer project that changes a life. That dream isn’t a ghost from your past; it’s a patient friend waiting in your future, tapping its watch with a smile, wondering what on earth is taking you so long to arrive.

The workshop is open. The clay is in your hands. Believe, and begin.

The Great Dream Rebellion (Yes, Seniors Can Still Start a Revolution)

 Once upon a Wednesday morning, long after the coffee had cooled and the crossword had been conquered, a curious thing happened in the town of Maplewood. A group of seniors, people who were supposed to be “slowing down,” “taking it easy,” and “acting their age”, decided to do something rather scandalous.

They decided to dream again.

It began, naturally, at the local coffee shop. Edna, who was 82 and had a pink streak in her hair that she called “attitude,” announced she was finally going to start her online art gallery. “People believe what they want to believe,” she said, sipping her latte like a philosopher. “And I’ve decided to believe that it’s never too late to make the world see what I see.”

Her friends looked at her, blinking over their muffins. Then Harold, retired accountant and world-class skeptic, muttered, “Well, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the trumpet.”

“Then do it,” Edna replied. “Dreams come true, if you believe, that’s what they do. The only variable is when.”

And just like that, a tiny rebellion began.

Now, it’s worth mentioning that there are two ways to go about dreaming, the slow approach and the quick one. The slow approach is what most people accidentally choose. It goes something like this: Resist. Attach. Insist. Deny. Stop. Second guess. Whine. Argue. Defend. Protest. Cry. Struggle. Ask others when you already know the answer yourself.

It’s exhausting. It’s the way you end up thinking you’re “too old,” “too late,” or “too set in your ways.” It’s like wearing an old pair of shoes that don’t fit anymore but refusing to take them off because they’re familiar.

The quick approach, on the other hand, feels like pure magic. Visualize. Pretend. Prepare. Dodge. Roll. Serpentine. Do not waver over intentions. Alternate your approaches. Release your doubts. Show up, even when nothing happens. And keep giving thanks in advance.

In Maplewood, the seniors went all in on the quick approach.

Eleanor started sketching fashion designs again, saying she was “inspired by fabrics that still believe in curves.” Gerald, who used to be a teacher, began writing a children’s book about a time-traveling goose named Walter. Even quiet Nora, who hadn’t spoken of her dreams since her husband passed, dug out her old gardening gloves and announced she was going to start a rooftop butterfly garden “just to prove gravity wrong.”

When people questioned them (and people always do), they smiled knowingly. “People believe what they want to believe,” Edna would repeat, her pink streak gleaming like a battle flag. “We just happen to believe in our own magic.”

You see, dreams don’t have an expiry date. They just wait, patiently, faithfully, until you remember to water them again. Believing in yourself isn’t naïve; it’s strategic. It’s the secret handshake of the universe. Because the moment you truly believe, the world begins to rearrange itself to meet you halfway.

And that’s when the miracles start looking suspiciously like coincidences.

By spring, Maplewood was buzzing. The local paper ran a story called “Seniors Redefine Retirement: The Town That Forgot How to Stop Dreaming.” And it wasn’t just about hobbies or projects, it was about energy, about courage, about refusing to let the “end chapters” of life be anything but luminous.

Sure, not every plan worked perfectly. Edna’s first online art sale crashed the website. Harold’s trumpet practice startled three cats and a very alarmed mail carrier. But they kept showing up, kept laughing, kept dreaming, and that’s the real magic of it all.

Because when you dream with your whole heart, you don’t just change your own life. You give everyone around you permission to start dreaming again, too.

So, if you’re sitting there wondering if it’s too late, here’s your gentle (and slightly mischievous) reminder: it’s never too late. Dream anyway. Visualize the life that still calls to you. Pretend it’s already happening. Prepare a little. Dodge the doubts. Serpentine past the critics. Show up, even when it feels silly.

And most of all, keep giving thanks in advance.

Because one day soon, when your dream comes true, you’ll laugh and say, “Well, of course it did.”

After all, people believe what they want to believe.
So go ahead and believe big

The Truth from the whimsical story from yesterday

 In a world that often feels like it’s spinning a little too fast, with headlines that shout and days that demand, it’s easy to believe that the loudest voice, the hardest heart, or the sharpest word is the one that gets things done.

But I am here to tell you a secret, a wonderful, whimsical, and stubbornly true secret that I have learned over my 80 years of living on this wonderful planet.

Love always wins.

Not in a fairy-tale, no-conflict-ever way. Love wins like a determined vine creeping up a concrete wall. It doesn’t smash the wall with brute force. Instead, it patiently, gently, weaves its way through the cracks, until one day, the wall is no longer a stark grey barrier, but a living, breathing tapestry of green. Love wins the long game. It’s the quiet understanding after a fiery argument, the steady hand held in a hospital room, the forgiveness offered when it isn't deserved. It’s the memory that outlasts hatred. While anger exhausts its fuel and fades, love simply settles in, making a home in the heart. It is, and always will be, the final, most powerful word.

And kindness? Kindness always prevails.

Think of it not as a weakness, but as a superpower. Kindness is the secret currency of the universe that never depletes. It’s the cup of tea made for a frazzled friend, the door held open for a stranger with full hands, the genuine “how are you, really?” asked and meant. It’s the compost for the soul, turning rot into richness. A single act of kindness sends out ripples we may never see, changing the atmosphere of a room, a home, a community. It might not always prevail in the moment, a cruel word may seem to land harder, but over time, kindness is the water that wears down the stone of cynicism. It builds bridges where logic says there should be chasms. It is the quiet, persistent force that heals the world, one gentle moment at a time.

And then, there is the most disarming weapon in our entire arsenal: a smile.

A true, crinkly-eyed smile is a universal language of peace. It’s a tiny, silent revolution. You cannot maintain a full-blown grudge while being genuinely smiled at. It’s nearly impossible. A smile short-circuits hostility. It disarms the defensive, comforts the lonely, and connects two strangers on a crowded street. It costs the giver nothing but a moment of courage, and yet for the receiver, it can be a lifeline, a spot of sunshine on a cloudy day. In a standoff, the one who smiles first isn’t surrendering; they are offering a different way forward.

So, on the days the world feels heavy, remember your role in this whimsical, wonderful story. You are a bearer of these three greats magics. You are a gardener of love, a practitioner of kindness, and a wielder of disarming smiles.

Go forth and be a little relentless with your gentleness. Weave your vine of love. Spend your currency of kindness. Unleash your arsenal of smiles.

For in the grand, chaotic, and beautiful tapestry of life, these are not just nice ideas. They are the undeniable, whimsical, and triumphant truth. Love wins. Kindness prevails. And a smile? A smile can change everything.