It’s not where you came from, it’s where you’re headed.
You’ve likely heard this a time or two. Or something like it.
The idea is straightforward: Where we come from is insignificant.
There is no cap on our potential. With hard work, determination and a little luck, we can get where we want to go.
This idea is akin to an ideal. It’s aspirational. It’s uplifting.
And it’s not true.
In reality, we do care about where we came from. Our origin stories matter.
In every aspect of our lives — from family to food to entertainment to shopping, we are obsessed with origins.
Whether we’re traveling through the silver screen to Tatooine to meet Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, reading of Apple’s beginnings in a garage or learning of where the ingredients of tonight’s meal are from, the origin stories are a big part of the ride. Similarly, getting to know new people often means trading stories of where we came from and how we got here.
These patterns are inherently embedded. They’re why the three act structure of storytelling is so prevalent in movies, theater and TV shows. They’re why meeting a romantic partner’s parents is such a key milestone in courtship.
This is no accident.
Origin stories break down boundaries. They make us relatable. And they help forge emotional ties.
As social beings, we are wired for these types of interactions. Yet, we are also vigilant at fighting off the threats that might undermine our existence.
We’ve come up with an elaborate system to reconcile these opposing sensations. One where we separate the world into those we rely on and those we’re wary of.
The dividing line between these two segments is trust. We build social relationships with those we trust. And we try and avoid contact with those we don’t.
Trust is inherently valuable. And earning it is no easy feat.
It requires a series of consistent actions. It requires proof of selflessness. And it requires relatability.
The first two components can be achieved with a measure of persistence over time. But the third one requires something more.
It requires a massive dose of humility.
And there’s no better vehicle for that sensation than an origin story.
For no matter how powerful we might seem, our origins are derived from a place of vulnerability. We start the journey of our existence meekly, lacking the ability for self-sufficiency.
This is true no matter the circumstances of our origin. Regardless our ethnicity, nationality or socioeconomic class, our early days are ones of weakness. They’re the cocoon we metamorphize out of.
In many ways, these formative years are our greatest shared human experience. They’re the great equalizer we can all relate to.
Rehashing them can help us find common ground. They help us put our cards on the table and say Hey, I’m human too.
It might feel cringe-worthy to harken back to those early days. We might instead feel the urge to share with others what we have acute control over — our decisions, accomplishments and aspirations.
But there is power in the past.
The power of context. The power of introspection. And the power of connection.
This is the power that forges the strongest bonds. This is the power that can help us continue to grow and thrive.
It would be foolish to pass this potential up in the name of vanity and ego.
Yes, where we’re headed matters. But so does where we came from.
Never forget that.