In high school, I had a dream—to become a documentary filmmaker, exploring people’s stories. And I even started down that path, studying film and radio and TV broadcasting in my early college days.
But life took me down a different path, and I discovered that my passion for stories didn’t fade—it simply transformed. Though I didn’t become a documentary filmmaker, I found myself working with people’s stories every day in a different, perhaps even deeper, way.
As a professional counselor, I delve into the stories that truly matter—the ones people tell themselves. These narratives, often rooted in the past, can be powerful, but they are often misleading. Many times they’re works of fiction or like those movies, ‘based on a true story’—realistic at a glance but filled with embellishments that distort the truth.
And that’s what I’m interested in: helping people see the fiction in these old stories that have hindered their well-being for far too long. Stories of unworthiness, of not belonging, of never being good enough, of being a failure. When we explore these stories, we often find they have an origin—perhaps in someone else’s words or as a way to make sense of deeply difficult, traumatic experiences. They’re often rooted in a distant past, but they continue to shape the present.
This is where mindfulness can be such a resource, offering a powerful way to become aware of and weaken the grip of these stories. Mindfulness practice—paying attention, on purpose, to the present moment—helps change our relationship to these habitual ways of being and the stories that accompany them. With mindfulness, we can experience a shift in how we relate to our inner experience, including our thoughts.
Mindfulness introduces us to our curious internal observer, that part of us capable of stepping back and viewing our thoughts from a distance, rather than being fully immersed in them. This shift allows us to see our thoughts for what they are—mental events, not absolute truths. It changes the connection with this sense that thoughts are supreme, because we often believe that if we think it, it must be true. But with mindfulness, we can begin to see that’s not always the case.
This is something I think mindfulness can really support us in doing: shifting our relationship with these stories. And beyond just knowing when we’re tangled up and being carried away into a story, mindfulness can also help us recognize our vast connection and belonging with all things. It reminds us that there’s nothing inherently wrong with us.
This is why I’m passionate about sharing mindfulness practices—because they have the power to transform lives, starting with these fictional stories we tell ourselves. It’s good for the individual to no longer believe their story of inferiority, and it’s also good for us all as people change their stories of unworthiness and separateness. It just makes a better world, I think.
Like many, I once clung to a story of failure, believing that not becoming a documentary filmmaker meant I had missed my calling. But through reflection, I realized that my true purpose was far greater—helping others rewrite their own stories. Documentaries can be an amazing tool for education, awareness, and entertainment, but I don’t know that they can change a life. I know mindfulness can.