Let the world know: the champion of your story is you.
It’s your story, after all.
Why not be the champion of it?
You can choose to be the champion of your story because stories don’t happen to us.
Stories are how we make sense of what happens. We choose how to tell the story. How you tell the story changes the narrative. Facts that once seemed immovable can begin to dissipate. Circumstances once unjust and unfair can melt into heartbreaking gifts that actually set your soul’s wings ablaze.
Things we never chose can become the Universe choosing us.
In this time of ours, those who can afford to ask the question ask themselves what it means to live a life of purpose, meaning and fulfillment. We seek out the “right path” to get to that beautiful destination, as if there’s a road map to show us the one path that will take us that way.
But I don’t believe that there is a single, solitary path. And it’s waiting to discover that one secret, hidden route that might stop us from making big decisions for months or years at a time.
Waiting makes sense, after all: if it’s “life’s purpose” or “meaning” or “soulful fulfillment” that hangs in the balance, you can be damn sure that we ought to take time to see if the decision is right before going for it.
What if championing your story is your purpose?
What if the manner in which you walk your journey in life, wherever the journey goes, is the ultimate meaning of life, itself?
When you step into the role of champion of your own story, whatever path you’re upon becomes the path you’re meant to walk. You may not have chosen this battle that you’re fighting today. Maybe some struggle found you that you never deserved. Maybe you’ve slunk through a 10-year career at an office you never wanted doing tasks that you feel are completely unimportant.
What does it feel like to take up the sword as the champion of your story, and conquer all of the chosen and unchosen just the same?
I want to be the champion of my own story–the story of my life and wherever it takes me, so that it’s not “suffering” or “fear” that champions in my place. It’s mine to champion, I figure. And this drive to champion my story has taken me to new places to meet new faces, pushed me to break my heart open and to keep giving, striving, fighting on.
I love the idea of becoming a champion to yourself because it’s a rallying cry of devout personal dedication to self and those around you, wherever the direction of your life might twist and turn–and whatever the demons, foes or dragons that stand in your path.
Forget what you tell the world. If the story is yours to tell, how are you telling it to yourself?
A champion may not know what’s always going to work out perfectly, but a champion does know right from wrong when one’s heart is the compass. Depression becomes an excuse to escape. Near-suicide becomes a cross-country campaign to save lives.
“Without purpose” can turn impassioned. Meaningless can find meaning. Disdain can become dharma.
The championing of your story has already begun.
It’s begun with how well you’ve fought and made strides, struggled for what’s right and overcome the wrong. You have been championing your story with how you’ve dreamed and set goals, worked, loved, shared, journeyed, endeavored. You have a championing nature. It’s not just about survival. Your championing nature is the will within to thrive, to flourish.
The dragons you face will be those of fear and shame and guilt, self-loathing and inner struggle.
These foes would sooner reduce our pride, self-belief and confidence to measly mounds of ash. It is your job to bear the flames.
There will be doubt. Every champion doubts.
There will be times when you feel hurt, heartbroken and fractured. There will be times when no one understands what you’re enduring.
And there will be times when you find yourself walking into a room full of people who know it.
They’ll look at you. Wondering. Waiting. Knowing full well that beneath your suit of armor there are fears and worries bubbling and ballooning without mercy. And they’ll look at you, waiting to see some evidence of the hurt that they know is there. They await the looks of guilt, grimaces of pain, language of insecurity, signs of regret and worry and jealousy and uncertainty…
And there you stand, showing none of them.
Even though, standing tall, they wreak havoc. They still hurt. You will feel them.
These are the feelings that make you want to run and hide.
Championing your story means standing tall to face the challenge before you. It means mustering the courage to be seen and standing firm when you’re expected to crumble. And without a whisper, you say, “No.”
Because the champion of your story is you.
