It was only the story I needed.

To know that somebody else out there had done a thing, which meant that surely, with enough practice, I could do it too.

That story could have been entirely fiction, a wild exaggeration, or misinterpretation. The reality was immaterial. The story changed my mind about what was possible, for me.

So many stories have shaped my life.

My mom told me stories of adventure, telling stories of her own, and sharing stories of other people. She showed me how to do adventure too, loading up steel-framed backpacks and hiking upwards along switchbacking trails. She passed me her battered copy of Kon-Tiki.

And I’m always on the lookout for stories, for ideas that might shift the lens of my life to bring other opportunities into focus, to recolour and reconfigure the ideas I have about what is possible.