If someone were to ask you about your work or your business, you’d probably tell them your job title and give them a rundown of what you make, whom you serve, and where and how long you’ve been doing it. It’s unlikely that you’d begin by telling them about your purpose and vision and why these are important in the grand scheme of things.

They correspond to another set of tools: the three strands of our narrative identity. The first is our me story—the one in which we’re the hero, the doer, the creator; we exercise agency and, in return, feel fulfilled. The next is our we story—the one in which we’re part of a community, a family, a team; we belong to a group and, in turn, feel need

What if the broken nature of life is a fact, but the idea we can also create something meaningful in the midst of that brokenness is an equal fact? None of this can be proven,

We have a story about who we are and what we are like. We not only believe it, but we also may operate as if it’s an unmovable truth, the stuff of the universe. It’s unchangeable.