Where was it that you first heard a story that gripped you? The one that had you hanging onto its every inflection, that one that held you by the face, pulled you close and whispered truths that to you that you didn’t know you already knew?

For me, I heard these at my grandparent’s dinner table. My Tata (grandfather) sat surrounded by his kids, in-laws, grandchildren, and roared to life. Baltazar took us to his days on the schoolyard, when his favorite toy was a rolling hoop. I don’t remember most of the stories, and I don’t need to. What has stuck with me was the way he came to life, emulating each character of his story. I remember the way the room felt – the way our family participated in these stories by laughing, adding in their own jokes, and holding these tales as their own.

When I think about why it is that I have searched through so many mediums to tell my own stories, through visual art, music, writing, and even friendship, I sometimes stop to admire the storytellers that showed me how to create something of your own. How to re-write, and share, your story so that you may own it, live with it, and see it help others.

Where was it that you were first held by a story? Go back there, if not just for a few moments. Remember how it felt in your body. How the air in the room felt. What did it smell like, and who was there? What did their faces look like?

Go back to the magic. What you find there may surprise you.