The thing is, I love stories. I love the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. I love watching someone realize that everything they think they know about themselves all spawns from one small moment buried deep in their past.
I can't even tell you how much our high school selves influence our adult selves. The triumphs and pain we felt in our adolescence often can haunt us-- carving out paths for us without our explicit permission. I know this holds true for me, anyway.
People get this incredible look on their faces when they pinpoint the exact moment in their history that determined their path. Sometimes it's a really big doofy smile, and their whole faces light up. Sometimes it's this look of complete shock, and their eyes get really big and solemn, like they're staring off at some distant horizon. Sometimes people start crying. But whatever the initial reaction when recounting this story, it's like watching a major weight being lifted off of their chests. Or a veil from over their eyes. Like suddenly they're seeing themselves as the complex and rich beings they truly are.
It's funny, I was worried that working in the non-profit sector in a field only tangentially related to my own would somehow distract me from my passion for narrative. It seems that it has only strengthened it.
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