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People say their story is who they are—and for a time, it is. But there comes a moment when one must stop reaching to the story for comfort and instead reach toward the source that made the story possible at all.

The same force that gave you the ability to discern also gave you the capacity to become fixated: to cling, to chase, to bind yourself to identities and divide yourself from life itself. In that attachment, we separate ourselves from the very thing that sustains us—the life that gives us breath to run, wisdom to endure, tears to cry, and songs to sing.

To experience any of this at all is a gift. Yet we miss the gift when we become too attached to our stories, too devoted to our ideas, too consumed with defending the image we have made of ourselves.