This past weekend, I was on a Zoom with a Buddhist nun from Philly named Amy.
She told us about a woman who had been incredibly difficult to live with during a retreat.
At first, all Amy could see was the woman's behavior. Then she learned about her life.
Her childhood.
Her struggles.
Her pain.
Nothing about the woman had changed. Only Amy's story about her had.
And suddenly, compassion came much more easily.
Before we moved on, Amy left us with three words:
"Check your stories."
Because our minds are constantly writing stories, and we often mistake them for ourselves, too.
Later that day, one of my oldest stories showed up.
"You're behind."
"You're not doing enough."
"You should have figured this out by now."
It sounded true. Like it always does. And it put me in a bad mood.
Then I remembered Amy's words.
Check your stories.
So I paused. And I asked myself:
What am I making this mean?
Because that's what we do.
Someone cuts us off in traffic, we decide what it means.
Someone doesn't text back, we decide what it means.
We make a mistake, we decide what it means.
The event is real. The story we tell ourselves about it isn't always true.
Maybe they're not ignoring me.
Maybe they're overwhelmed.
Maybe I'm not behind.
Maybe I'm just comparing my timeline to someone else's.
That one question creates a little space.
Space between what happened...and the story I'm about to believe.
Sometimes that's enough to replace judgment with curiosity.
Fear with compassion.
Reaction with choice.
So this week, that's my gift to you.