We all have stories. Some of them are true. Many of them are real but not necessarily true. Taken together they make up who we hold ourselves to be - in the past, in anticipating the future, and as we breathe in and out in this present moment. These stories don't exist independently from us. We are the ones who keep breathing life into them. We are the ones who offer them power. Oh these stories are such a burden. Oh this story brings such guilt and shame. Oh how to escape my past. Oh why can't this be like it used to be. Not all are dark and shadowed. Some indeed are light and uplifting, but have you ever noticed how shadows often obscure the sun? This question I would pose to you - How might we meet these stories head on? Do we invite them in to take a seat? Do we let them hide in the closet and come out whenever they choose? Naming them is a way to shift your perspective, create some distance and make some space around the story. You can acknowledge a story but set limits on when it can intrude and when it needs to back off. This is more than a delicate dance. It can be a way to interrupt the pattern of responding that keeps a story alive. And if you don't quite understand what I mean by "story" - Well then, that's another story...
Tag Archives: Our storied nature
The Stories We Inhabit
Filed under Prose and Poetry