the story pilgrim

sharing sacred stories on the pilgrimage through life

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The real job

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The start of a new year always feels like a good time to reflect, doesn’t it? A moment to take stock of what went well, what didn’t, and what’s been quietly simmering beneath the surface. Last year? Well, it was one of those years that felt tougher than it looked in hindsight. Ever have one of those?

You spend months feeling like you’re spinning plates—juggling auditions, side jobs, relationships, health, finances—and yet when you pause, you realise, “Wait a minute, I actually got some stuff done.” It’s not the “Oscars speech” kind of progress, but it’s progress all the same.

There’s this great quote from Bryan Cranston that sticks with me: “The actor’s job is not to book the job. The actor’s job is to go into the room and be compelling.”

Now, replace “actor” with whatever you’re striving for, and it still works. Sometimes, the wins aren’t about the flashy results but about showing up, being present, and doing the thing. For me, last year had a lot of that. I didn’t book a blockbuster, but my audition-to-job ratio was solid. Small victories count—and they add up.

On the personal front, I’ve been reminded how much joy comes from sharing pieces of your life with someone else. Taking Lucy to Chicago, showing her the places that shaped me, was like giving her a guided tour of my past—with some excellent pizza stops along the way, of course. Sharing those stories made them feel fresh again, as if the city had been waiting for someone new to see it.

But let’s not sugarcoat it: life last year was also frustrating. Trying to level up in acting while keeping the bills paid is like running a marathon with a backpack full of rocks. You’re moving forward, but you’re constantly aware of the weight.

And then there’s the mental soundtrack—you know the one. Social media’s endless parade of other people’s highlight reels. Media shouting about how the world’s falling apart. It can pull you down faster than quicksand.

But here’s the thing: stepping back helps. Perspective is a sneaky superpower. When I finally looked at my year objectively, I saw that it wasn’t so bad. Stress just has this annoying habit of zooming in too far on the messy bits.

There’s a Bible verse I always find amusing: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34). I mean, it’s solid advice…and also a bit sassy, right? Like, “Calm down, mate, today’s already a handful.” But it’s a fair point. If we’re too focused on what’s next, we miss the quiet wins of today.

Health-wise? Up and down, like one of those theme park rides that makes you question your life choices. But overall, I’m upright and functional, which is more than enough some days. Mental health? Same. It’s a balancing act—holding onto the good stuff while not letting the bad stuff knock you flat.

As we step into another year, maybe the real trick is to keep moving while remembering to pause. Take stock, find the humour in the chaos, and celebrate the small wins—even if it’s just getting through a tough week with your dignity intact. Or at least most of it.

So, to whoever’s reading this: don’t let the world or its noise pull you down. Find the joy in showing up. Take stock of your wins, however small. And remember Bryan Cranston’s advice: the job isn’t always about booking the job. Sometimes, it’s just about being there, being compelling, and keeping faith that the pieces will come together. Here’s to a year of spinning plates—and maybe catching a few.

The Generosity We Give Ourselves: A Reflection on Gifts, Connection, and Self-Kindness

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Have you ever given yourself a gift? I don’t mean a fancy gadget or an expensive meal (though those are delightful). I’m talking about the kind of gift that costs time, attention, and honesty—a true act of generosity towards yourself.

If you’re anything like me, the idea might make you squirm a little. Isn’t it selfish to focus on yourself? Shouldn’t generosity be about others? But here’s the twist: the better we are at giving to ourselves, the more meaningful our generosity becomes.

Let’s unpack this with a bit of humour and a dash of philosophy—because if we can’t laugh at life while pondering its mysteries, what’s the point?

The Paradox of Generosity

Generosity is often painted as a one-way street: a giver and a receiver, with the giver basking in the moral glow of their selflessness. But have you noticed how uncomfortable it feels when someone says, you need to be more generous to yourself? It’s as if we’re being handed a riddle with no answer key. Why does generosity towards ourselves feel harder than giving to others?

Here’s my theory: we’ve internalised the idea that being good means being selfless. But selflessness, taken to extremes, leaves us empty. Generosity isn’t about depleting your own reserves; it’s about sharing from abundance. And abundance starts with you. If you’re running on fumes, you can’t give much to anyone—least of all yourself.

Giving the Gift of Time

One of the greatest gifts you can give yourself is time. Time to walk, to think, to just be. I’ve learned this while recording episodes of the story pilgrim. Wandering through cities, forests, or even my own neighbourhood, I’ve realised that carving out space for myself isn’t indulgence—it’s survival.

Think about the last time you gave yourself permission to do nothing. Not the accidental kind of nothing where you’re scrolling social media and suddenly an hour’s gone—I mean intentional nothing. Sitting quietly. Walking without a destination. Listening to your thoughts without judgement. It’s liberating, isn’t it? And a little terrifying. But this is where we start to reconnect with ourselves, to hear the whispers beneath the noise.

Connection: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Generosity is a form of connection. When we give to others, we’re saying, I see you. I value you. But what about when we give to ourselves? It’s the same message: I see you. I value you. And yet, connecting with ourselves often feels harder than connecting with others. Why?

Because we’re complicated, messy creatures. It’s easier to focus outward than to face our own inner chaos. But when we take the time to connect with ourselves, to honour our needs and desires, we lay the groundwork for deeper connections with others. How can we truly see someone else if we’re unwilling to see ourselves?

Practical (and Fun) Ways to Be Generous to Yourself

  1. Write Yourself a Letter – Imagine you’re your own best friend. What would they say to you? Write it down. You’ll be amazed at the kindness you’re capable of showing yourself.
  2. Take a Solo Adventure – Go somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit. Bring a notebook or just your curiosity. No agenda, no expectations—just you and the world.
  3. Treat Yourself to Quiet – Turn off your devices. Sit in a park or your favourite chair. Let your mind wander. It’s like giving your brain a deep breath.
  4. Celebrate Small Wins – Did you finish a project? Cook a decent meal? Get through a tough day? Celebrate it. Life is made up of small victories, and they deserve recognition.

A Gentle Reminder

Generosity isn’t about grand gestures or constant giving. It’s about presence. It’s about saying, I’m here, and I care, whether to a friend, a stranger, or yourself. When we learn to give ourselves the same kindness we offer others, we unlock something powerful: the ability to give without expectation, to connect without pretence, and to live with a little more ease.

So, next time someone tells you to be generous to yourself, don’t roll your eyes. Think of it as an experiment, a practice, a gift. After all, who deserves your generosity more than you?

What Story Are You Carrying Into the Holiday Season This Year?

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The holiday season often invites us to pause and reflect on where we are and where we’ve been. It’s a time of connection, gratitude, and the gentle pull of nostalgia. As I settle more into life back here in England, this question resonates deeply with me.

I recently heard a statistic – one I can’t confirm but that lingers in my mind nonetheless: 80% of people will die within 50 miles of where they are born. It’s not the idea of death that strikes me, but rather the magnetism of home. What is it that draws us back as we age? Is it the safety of the familiar, or something deeper – an unspoken need to return to the roots of our narrative, as though the place where our story began might hold the key to its meaning?

This season, I find myself reflecting on both absence and presence. On those who are no longer with me and those who are here, right now. Life feels fragile, as though it is built on layers of memory, held together by the stories we tell ourselves and each other. I think about the history I share with those close to me – the moments that have become stories – and the ones still waiting to be created. This season, I want to live in the latter.

But reflection is a double-edged sword, isn’t it? On the one hand, it brings clarity. On the other, it can anchor us too heavily in the past. Am I spending too much time reflecting, I wonder? Am I mistaking the act of looking back for progress? What is the balance, and what am I balancing it with?

Philosophers have long grappled with the tension between reflection and action. Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic emperor, reminds us that “it is not death that a man should fear, but never beginning to live.” Reflection should guide us, not paralyze us. Søren Kierkegaard, the father of existentialism, once said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” The challenge, perhaps, is to look back with wisdom but walk forward with intention.

As someone prone to overthinking, this interplay between past and future is an ever-present tension. Overthinking can be a trap, but it’s also what gives my creativity its depth and my stories their layers. The trick, I’m learning, is to let reflection inform action, not replace it.

This holiday season, I’m asking myself: What story am I carrying into the coming year? I hope it’s one of presence, one that embraces the familiar while staying open to the unknown. A story of living fully and meaningfully with the people I cherish.

So, I’ll leave you with the same question: What story are you carrying into the holiday season this year?

Take a moment to reflect—just enough. And then, go live it.

The Power of Connection: Nature, Self, and Others

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Since I walked the Camino de Santiago back in 2017, I’ve been thinking deeply about connection.

That pilgrimage was the first time I truly questioned my connection to a God I wasn’t sure was there. I had no evidence, no grand epiphany—just a feeling, something I couldn’t fully explain. Even now, I’m still confused about what that something is.

But what I learned during those 500 miles is that connection takes many forms. It’s not always about divine clarity or absolute answers. Sometimes, it’s as simple—and as profound—as connecting with nature, with oneself, and with others.

Connecting with Nature

Walking the Camino, I had no choice but to engage with the natural world. The rhythm of my footsteps matched the sway of the trees. The sunrise marked the start of my day, and the cooling dusk signalled rest. It was the first time in years I felt completely present.

Nature reminds us that we’re part of something bigger. It doesn’t judge or demand. It just is. That simplicity was grounding for me, and it’s something I still turn to when life feels overwhelming.

If you’re feeling disconnected, step outside. Not just to tick the box of “being in nature,” but to be in it. Sit under a tree, let the breeze wrap around you, or feel the ground beneath your feet. Nature has a way of offering connection without saying a word.

Connecting with Yourself

Walking alone for hours each day gave me no choice but to sit with my own thoughts. That was both freeing and unsettling. What did I believe? Who was I becoming? Was I running toward something, or away from it?

That inner dialogue hasn’t stopped since the Camino. I still question myself, still wonder what I’m supposed to make of this life. But I’ve realized that connection with yourself doesn’t mean having all the answers—it means being willing to ask the questions.

Start small. Find five minutes of silence in your day, whether it’s in the morning, before bed, or on a lunch break. No distractions, no noise—just you. You might be surprised at what surfaces.

Connecting with Others

The Camino isn’t just about walking; it’s about the people you meet along the way. Strangers became friends, and fleeting conversations turned into moments of shared humanity. Those connections reminded me how deeply we all crave to be seen and heard.

Back in my daily life, I try to carry that lesson with me. Real connection with others doesn’t require grand gestures—just attention. A question asked with genuine curiosity. A moment of vulnerability. A willingness to truly listen.

Next time you’re with someone, take a moment to tune in fully. Put the phone away. Look them in the eye. Ask how they really are. It might seem small, but those are the moments that stick.

The Mystery of Connection

I still don’t know what I felt on the Camino. Was it a divine presence? The energy of the earth? Or just my own mind searching for meaning? Maybe it’s all of those things. Maybe it’s none.

What I do know is that connection matters. To nature, to yourself, to others. These threads are what ground us, even when the world feels uncertain.

So, how will you connect today? Will you step outside and breathe it in? Will you sit quietly and listen to your thoughts? Or will you reach out to someone who might need to be reminded they’re not alone?

Let me know—I’d love to hear your story.

Buen camino,
Darren

When the World Feels Silent

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There you are, sitting with a cup of something warm in your hands, mulling over your career and the choices you’ve made. You’ve been on this path for as long as you can remember, pouring your heart into your craft. But it’s been a while now—too long since you’ve landed a meaningful project. You know what you want, but it seems further away than ever.

You hear it all the time: “The industry is slow for everyone.” “Things are tough all around.” Yet, there it is—another new project announced, another new name in the spotlight. You start to wonder, If things are slow, why is it only affecting me?

You devour books, listen to podcasts, and watch videos from the so-called “successful” ones, each preaching a gospel of risk and reward. “Take a chance,” they say. “Push the boundaries,” they insist. You’ve tried that. You’ve stepped outside the box, doing what felt right in your gut, only to be met with scepticism or outright criticism. Somehow, the risks you’ve taken seem to do more damage to your spirit than good.

It’s a maddening cycle. You know you have to stand out, but every time you try, you feel like you’re further from the mark. You’re left wondering, Am I doing something wrong? You’ve watched others take similar risks and be celebrated for them. And yet, when it’s your turn, the acknowledgment never comes.

So now you’re here, wrestling with the fear that nothing will change, that your bank account will stay as empty as the space where opportunities should be. And the doubt seeps in, whispering that maybe you’re the one exception to all those motivational quotes.

But what if you’re not?

Maybe, just maybe, the silence is not a sign that you’ve gone astray but a part of the process. It doesn’t make the uncertainty any easier, but perhaps it’s worth considering that this is what growth feels like. Not always exciting, not always celebrated, and certainly not always understood. But maybe that’s okay.

Because, deep down, you know you’re not going to give up. You’ll take another risk, and then another. You’ll keep pushing because that’s who you are, even when it seems like the world is too quiet. Maybe the quiet is just giving you space to find your voice, once again.

So, here’s to those who keep going when the applause fades, when the inbox is empty, and when the world feels silent. You’re not alone.

Rediscovering the Extraordinary in the Everyday

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You wake up, go through the motions, and sometimes it feels like life is a loop. Maybe you’ve caught yourself thinking, “Is this it? Another day, the same routine?”

It’s easy to get swept up in the ordinary, the tasks and to-dos that make up most of our lives. But what if there’s something more, something meaningful, right in the midst of all that everyday noise?

You don’t have to wait for a grand event or a big change to find purpose or connection. Sometimes, it’s in the simplest moments that the richest stories unfold. When you take a second to pause—whether you’re walking down the same street you’ve always walked, sipping your morning coffee, or even sitting in silence—you might find that the everyday has more depth than it first seems.

You’ve probably had those moments when a random thought hits you—something about your life, your relationships, or even just where you’re headed. It’s in those little pauses, those quiet seconds, that the world opens up in unexpected ways. The challenge is to notice them, to let yourself be curious about the familiar things you see every day.

There’s a story hidden in your routine, even when it feels like there’s nothing special happening.

The laughter with a colleague during lunch, the comfort of your evening walk, or the way the sun hits your window just right—it’s all part of something bigger. You don’t need to search far and wide to find meaning or beauty; you just need to look closer at what’s already around you.

Life isn’t just about the big moments, the milestones. It’s about the little steps you take, the ordinary days that build up over time. And as you move through your days, even the mundane has the potential to surprise you, to remind you that there’s more happening beneath the surface.

So, next time you feel stuck in the routine, try looking at it differently. You never know what you might discover when you slow down and really see what’s in front of you. The ordinary can be extraordinary, if you let it.