The best present you'll get this Christmas

I’m on the bus, going back home from the hospital, and something feels off. 

My body is hot, my forehead feels clammy, and I think, “I guess the bus wasn’t a great idea after all.”

It didn’t seem like particularly adventurous decision: I was fine, walking felt good, and I wanted to be outside a bit longer instead of jumping straight into a cab. 

But now my vision is blurry, I’m getting nauseous, and the bus’ motion is not helping. I think I’m about to pass out.

I take a seat, get my phone out, and text my wife: 

“I feel AWFUL. I’m on the H6 almost home but the meds made me dizzy. I think I’ll make it but not looking good.”

I press send and stare at the phone for a while, trying to get my head right. That’s when I notice I’m still wearing the bracelet from the hospital, which has my name on it. 

“If I pass out, is knowing my name any good?” I think. “Can they figure out who to call just with that?”

I’m still holding my phone, and I imagine myself unconscious with the phone slipping out of my fingers. 

My phone is password-protected, so I guess that’s no use. Someone would probably steal it anyway. 

So… what would happen? 

Patricia knows I’m on this bus (or at least, on a bus from this line), but other than her leaving work and trying to get on the right bus, what else can she do? 

If I wake up soon, I’ll just call her and that’s that. But if I don’t… 

I imagine my family having no clue where I am for hours. Could that go on for days? Weeks? 

I look up, and realise I’m coming up to my stop. I feel ok enough to stand up and exit the bus. 

Something’s still off, though—but it’s something different now: 

It all just feels so… fragile. 

A small decision, like taking a bus and not a taxi, and the consequences could have been anything but.

As I get home, I’m a lot better already. I’ll be as good as new in a few hours. 

But I’ll think about what almost happened… for a lot longer. 

The Grinch would agree with me 

You’ve got presents to open, so let me get to the point: life has no meaning. 

(Have I been bleak enough for a Christmas Day so far? 😅)

Alright, alright, let me explain: the things that happened to you don’t have a meaning, either because you haven’t figured it out yet, or because they might have many. 

When you turn them into a story, though, you should pick just one of the many possible meanings, and make that your point. For this one, for example, I could’ve focused on: 

• Decisions we make out of pride or carelessness (my bad call of catching a bus when I wasn’t well)

• Knowing when to ask for help (I didn’t) 

• Practical steps to avoid negative consequences (how do I keep something like this from happening) 

Any of those would’ve worked, and I also could’ve played it much lighter, or funnier, depending on what I was going for. 

With the risk of overreaching my expertise, I think that’s true for many things that happen to us—and not just for storytelling. Apart from the worst tragedies, much of life is open to interpretation: give it time, context, or an optimistic frame of mind, and we can see good (or at least something to laugh about) in plenty of “bad” things. 

The things that happen to you have no meaning—until you learn to find it. 

Get used to finding positive ones, and soon enough you see most things that happen as an opportunity to learn, laugh, or be grateful. 

That’s great for telling stories, of course, but it’s even better for living a meaningful life. 

And realising that…

Beats any present you’ll unwrap today 🤘

-Francisco 

Whenever you're ready, there are 3 ways I can help you:

1. Getting clarity through your story to stand out from all the other coaches, speakers and entrepreneurs out there 

2. If you dream of speaking on the Red Dot, take this Scorecard and instantly discover how likely your idea is to be accepted by a TED-style organizing committee

3. If you (or your team) got any storytelling challenges, I’m sure there’s something we can do together ;-)

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