I am walking down a lane in Chiang Mai with some new friends. We are on our way to our teacher's house. We are talking about what our plans are when our 3 weeks together are over. I talk about the dance retreat I am headed to in Costa Rica.
One of them says, "Man, I wish I had your life."
Immediately, I respond, "I wish I had the life everyone thinks I have."
I have been hearing a lot of affirmations and faintly envious well-wishes since I started planning this trip. This makes me realize, again, how good we are at storytelling. And how dangerous that can be for us.
We are so good at storytelling that we rarely stop to fact-check. While this makes us the creative weirdos who change the world, it also makes us seal open doors with nothing more than our stories.
Sure, my life is good. Much better than it was 2 years ago. But there are still key things that I am missing, and there are still things in my life that make me the opposite of proud.
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I am at the second part of my trip, tired and sore from a morning absorbed in dancing. Life is pretty good, as long as I stay in the right now. But soon I will start storytelling, and see my return to the city I want to leave, the lonely hours at home, the fear that keeps me smaller than I can be. I'm working on those things -- on having the life that people think I have.
I'm working on telling a different story.
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