Quite a few years back at one of our early Metchosin retreats, a gentleman came to paint with us. He was very well known in our community, successful by all measures, with an accomplished and celebrated career in business. The kind of man who’d done the thing and was highly regarded for it. And there he was, quietly and curiously showing up for a painting retreat with his lovely wife.
He hadn’t picked up a brush since he was a young child, yet he was engaged and open. I showed the group some simple techniques to get started and encouraged him to just play. No expectations, no pressure. Just paint. And after a short while, he joyfully disappeared into his canvas.
We spent the next two days exploring colour and shape, completely immersed. We painted, we ate, we laughed and shared stories, but I had no idea he’d tapped into something deeply personal and long overdue.
I don’t ever know the full impact of a retreat until the very last day—if at all. Sometimes, as things are wrapping up, a few guests will choose to share their story with the group. Other times, they’ll reach out privately, days or even months later. And some never say a word.
But at the end of that weekend, this lovely man stood up and told the group his story.
He shared that, for as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to paint. Always. But as a young boy, he’d been told he wasn’t any good at it. That he couldn’t draw, and that he shouldn’t waste his time. He was young and impressionable, and he believed it—wholeheartedly. He was nudged and expected to excel in more ‘appropriate’ things, and the belief that he was not creative shaped the path of his life.
He said that during the retreat, I told him, “You can change your story.”
For him, that was the part that stuck. And he did change his story. He went home and converted an outbuilding into a painting studio. And he still paints—regularly and passionately. He’s an artist. And here’s the thing: he wasn’t twenty. He was probably in his sixties at the time. Which made it all the more beautiful and all the more urgent.
We see this all the time, don’t we? People carrying stories about themselves that are no longer true, or never were. Stories given to them, forced on them, whispered quietly enough times that they stuck. And they limit us. Hold us back. Keep us “safe”, but oh so small.
You know the kind of stories I mean…
“Who do I think I am?”
“I can’t ask for help.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’d love to, but I could never do that.”
‘I don’t have the time.”
Stories that feel like truth, but are actually just grooves we’ve worn into our record.
The truth is: we all have these stories. I’ve been digging around in mine lately, dragging them into the light and asking if they’re actually true. Some of them are not. Some never were. So I’ve decided to toss them out.
It’s time. And I have work to do.
Love, Laura. xo
Thanks for reading and for being here with me.
If someone you know might connect with this story, please pass it on. You’re helping build this community. And if you’ve been craving a creative reset—or just some space to breathe and be—come join me on one of our upcoming retreats. There’s a little room in our September Salt Spring Island Retreat and gorgeous Sicily in October!
