The Messy, Sacred Tale of Being Human

Someone once said that the point of Dungeons & Dragons isn't to win, it's to tell an interesting story. That landed deeply with me. It’s one of those simple lines that quietly opens something profound, like a gentle bell ringing in the heart.

What if life is not a game to win, but a story being told?

In D&D, players don’t aim to breeze through unscathed. The magic is in the moments: the perilous decisions, the tragic flaws, the absurd plans that somehow work, and the failures that become legendary. Characters grow not by avoiding danger, but by meeting it. The story becomes richer, not in spite of the chaos, but because of it.

Life, too, seems to unfold in this way. We don’t get to control the events. People leave, things break, plans fall through, hearts get bruised. And yet, something mysterious and whole continues to hold it all. Every sorrow, every joy, every ordinary breath becomes part of a living narrative, full of depth and color.

We were never meant to win life. There’s no scorecard, no finish line where we are finally declared “enough.” The invitation is simply to live; fully, honestly, vulnerably. To be part of the messy, sacred, unpredictable unfolding.

And maybe to see, as in a great story, that the point was never to perfect the character—but to love them, as they are, and watch the story bloom.

So let it be strange. Let it be imperfect. Let the tears come when they do, and the laughter too. Let yourself be surprised. Because maybe, just maybe—this story is already perfect, just as it's being told.