If you created a map of your life, what would it look like?
Would it be a topographical map with hills and valleys that describe the highs and lows? Would it be a birds’ eye view with road names like “Inspiration Lane” and “Winding Way?” Maybe there’d even be a few Dead End signs?
Thinking about our lives as maps can reveal patterns and connections we might otherwise miss. I recently led an advanced life stories workshop in which participants had the choice of writing a legacy essay or creating a “legacy map.” Several folks chose the map and the results were astounding! One person created a beautiful conceptual drawing awash in water color pastels. Another produced a detailed map with vibrantly color-coded paths. Cartographers telling stories as unique as the maps they created.
During this portion of the workshop, I wanted to model the process and the vulnerability that goes along with it so I also created a map. Words are my jam, not 2D art. I had to firmly ask my Inner Art Critic to leave the room or else nothing was going to get put on that whiteboard. The sketches that emerged were landmarks from my own story — mountains, valleys, forks in the road, lessons learned.
I was surprised by the insights revealed when I set aside a chronological list and instead embarked on a topographical tour.
Here’s what I discovered: the act of representing my life visually rather than with words unlocked additional memories. It also helped me see connections in some of my life experiences that I hadn’t yet discovered.
For example, at the end of my sophomore year in high school I experienced a “fork in the road” moment when my family moved from our home town to another town three hours away. Some of my favorite school activities weren’t available to me because I’d missed the tryout/audition window. Instead, I wandered into theater productions — and into friendships and experiences I might never have found otherwise. Looking at the map, I connected an important “dot” – my stint as a theater kid laid the groundwork for me to scale another mountain years later: the courage to stand in front of keynote audiences as the owner of my own training and development firm.
My visual artistic skills are still very much a work in progress. (See the map’s Exhibit A: “Stick Figure,” lol.) But creating that map helped me see my story with fresh eyes — not as isolated events, but as connected terrain.
And perhaps that’s why these kinds of legacy reflections can be so powerful. Sometimes we miss the richness of our own journey until we pause long enough to trace the path.
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