The End of Your Story Hasn’t Been Written, What Do You Want it To Say?

A book isn’t a single sentence, a single paragraph, or a single chapter.

It’s a composite of sentences, paragraphs, and chapters.

Hopefully written and structured in a way that the fear of it coming to an end increases proportionally as the remaining pages grow thinner in your hand.

You know it has to end, but it doesn’t mean you want it to.

So you savor what you have, and when the last word is read, and the cover closed, you experience nothing short of magic.

You feel whole; you feel content.

You’re no longer sad it’s ended, but instead grateful you were a part of it.

You’re ensconced in the peace that’s born when you bear witness to a master in their craft leaving it all on the page.

No stones unturned, no paths left unexamined.

You’re enveloped in the freedom that’s born when you touch mastery, awe, wonder, and beauty.

What if you viewed your life the same way?

You’re not a single sentence, a single paragraph, or a single chapter.

Each of those is merely a snapshot of time. They are simply who you were at that moment.