My son and I were in line at my neighborhood cafe here in San Francisco when he pulled on my sleeve and told me to look up.
High up on the walls was a large, subtle 180 degree mural of the neighborhood right outside the door: Our area’s hills, valleys, houses, schools, roads. It was beautiful and lifelike and done in such an understated way, that it pulled you in without you even realizing it.
But there was more. If you look very carefully, you can see that the muralist included small phrases and messages and questions throughout the nooks and crannies of the mural. Below the rain gutter of a house. Hidden on a roof.
The one my eyes jumped to was “What kind of stories do you tell?”
What stories do you, unhappy attorney, tell yourself?
What stories do you tell yourself … that keep you in the place you are right now?
- I am [insert religious/ethnic/culture group here] and being a lawyer is just what we do.
- I was a liberal arts major, so I can’t do anything but be a lawyer.
- I love to teach, but the pay to be a high school history teacher is too low.
- Financial security is my number one life priority.
- I have difficulty receiving compliments.
- Better to be humble than to be great.
- I’m fine. I’m okay.
- I am not good asking for help.
- I have never been comfortable with taking risk.
- I could get hurt.
- I am best when I’m pleasing others.
- The firm will take care of me.
- I don’t need a lot of money, I deserve to just be comfortable.
- Death is bad and makes me very scared.
- Change is for someone else, not me.
You become the stories you tell yourself.