Rewriting the story
When I was eight years old, my guitar teacher told my mum it was time to stop wasting her money on guitar lessons for me.
It's funny, in an ironic sort of way, how a single comment can echo for years because from that moment on, I believed I was hopeless at playing musical instruments.
By the time I was twelve, and started secondary school in France, music was part of the curriculum and every student had to choose between learning an instrument, usually the flute or singing. Because I was already convinced that I couldn't play an instrument, I didn't even consider the flute and I chose singing instead.
Well, that did not go well!
Then another belief was created "Je chante comme une casserole." ("I sing like a saucepan.") as we say in French, a colorful way of saying someone can't sing.
Without realising it, I was collecting evidence for a story I'd been telling myself since I was eight: I'm not musical.
A while ago, I became aware of that story.
And recently I chose to rewrite it: I completed my Level 1 training as a Sound Bath Facilitator.
Instead of avoiding instruments, I found myself exploring several of them over a weekend...and by day 2 I was playing some of them in front of a group of nine women.
And I loved it!
Looking back, it's mad to think how one comment shaped so many of my choices, and how, for more than 40 years, I convinced myself that playing music simply wasn't an option.
Recognising the story I'd created around music was an important first step. But awareness alone rarely changes the story. At some point, we need to give ourselves a new experience, one that gently challenges the story we've been carrying.
How many of the stories we carry were never truly ours to begin with?
It makes me wonder how many of the stories we carry were never truly ours to begin with.
How many began with an offhand comment, a teacher's opinion, a parent's fear, a moment of embarrassment, or a single experience that quietly became part of our identity?
As I reflect on this experience, I find myself becoming curious rather than certain.
What beliefs have quietly shaped the way I move through life?
Which ones still deserve my trust?
And which ones are simply old echoes waiting to be met with a new experience?
Maybe you have a story like that too.
Not necessarily about music.
Perhaps it's about creativity, confidence, relationships, success, your body, your voice, or your worth.
A story you've lived with for so long that it feels like part of who you are.
What if it isn't?
What if it's simply a story that has never been given the opportunity to evolve?
a few questions to sit with:
What is one sentence you've believed about yourself for as long as you can remember?
Where did that story begin?
How has it quietly influenced the choices you've made?
Is it still true today, or is it simply familiar?
What small, gentle experience could begin opening a different possibility?
If you weren't trying to prove the old story right, what might you be curious enough to try?
Sometimes transformation begins with noticing the stories we've mistaken for our identity, and giving ourselves permission to experience life beyond them.
Exploring this story through the Human Design lens
What began as one person's opinion, the teacher’s one, became my truth. Here I can see the shadow of the gate 17, the Gate of Opinions, where opinions are asserted as facts.
That belief quietly shaped the way I saw myself for decades, feeding the feeling that perhaps I simply wasn't capable. Looking back, I can recognise the shadow of Gate 48, the Gate of Depth, showing up as a fear of inadequacy that kept me from exploring music for such a long time.
I can also see the gift of Gate 57, The Gate of Intuitive Insight guiding me. Something in me simply knew to say yes to this training, no logic needed, and I followed that inner nudge. Gate 57 is deeply sensitive to vibrations and what can only be sensed in the present moment. As I played the instruments, I wasn't replaying the past or worrying about whether I was "good enough." I was completely here, immersed in the sound, feeling each vibration, allowing my body to lead.
To conclude, let’s bring Gate 56 , The Gate of Stimulation. Gate 56 is the understanding that our experiences become far more than the events themselves when we take time to reflect on them. Reflection transforms experience into wisdom, allowing us to discover meaning that we may not have seen in the moment.
This story became an invitation to recognise an old belief, to question where it came from, and to choose a different experience. In doing so, what could have remained just a memory became a source of insight and growth.
Perhaps that's what Enrichment, the Gift of Gene Key 56, truly means to me: allowing my everyday experiences to expand my awareness of myself and of life. And when I choose to share those reflections, my hope is that they become gentle invitations for others to pause, recognise something in their own lives, and wonder what new story might be waiting to unfold.