The Story That’s Quietly Holding You Back

Weekly wisdom to bring you home in 3 minutes.

A SHORT STORY

One of the reasons I share a story every week is because I believe we are storying beings — we seek out story, and we relate through story.

In many ways, we story our existence. And sometimes, I have found, those stories can be off.

For instance — I once sat with a Kathakali master in southern India and witnessed a four-hour preparation ritual for performance. This involves applying elaborate makeup and building a white rice–paste structure called chutti around the jawline.

When we were interviewing the performer, a member of Theater Mitu asked, “What happens if the chutti breaks?”

The performer answered simply:
“It doesn’t.”

We weren’t buying it. So they asked again — “But it must break. How do you handle that?”

The performer was genuinely confused — and again answered:
“It has never broken. It’s not possible.”

I often recount that moment to my students and ask them:
What agreements can you make that are 'not possible' in your own life?

Many of us say things like: “I’m a person who is always late.” Or: “I’m a person who isn’t good at this or that.”

But what if that was no longer possible?

How would your life change?

As I reflect this week, I wonder:
what “impossible” agreement am I still unconsciously keeping?

And what would shift if I simply stopped making that agreement — and lived as if the new story was already true?

A POEM

“The Art of Disappearing” by Naomi Shihab Nye

When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone is telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

Grateful,

Michael