Stories. What are these? What if we live upon the stories that we build in our minds?
What if the stories that we tell ourselves become our story? What if the story I told myelf and I tell others is not true? What if there are hundreds if not thousands of stories that abound us each day? Which of them do we tell? Which of them is true? Which of them is true hallucination? And which of them is simply a pipe dream — made up by my mind to make sense of the world? And which story is not mine to tell and not mine to have lived?
Stories surround us. They are everywhere. Each book is a story. Each news channel is a story. Each past is a story. One, many, thousands of stories. Stories surround us and stories define us.
I love stories. They let us imagine, they let us dive into fantastical worlds, they let us dream and they let us ponder reality from the perspective of another being.
But they are stories. Are they real? a bit real? A bit unreal?
I always since I can remember tell myself the story that I had been shy. That the reasons why I could not look someone in the eye was because I was shy. That the reason I had trouble connecting to others was because I was shy. That the reason I had little friends was because I was shy.
And then I told myself a different story. The story how I was able to turn that around. The shyness into a strength. The way I learned to dismiss my shyness and becoming a well-versed communicator, the one that goes to Toastmasters, the one that takes on a job always related to people, always interacting with people. And how much I loved it.
And then I struggled. Something was off. and I told a different story. One of hardship. Of depression. Of making mistakes and needing to clean up things. One of re-writing my story. One of re-defining my story. How it was from the place of shyness. From a place of insecurity and impulsiveness.
But what if these stories are not true? What if there is a different version of that story? If each story that I told myself allows for many different stories as well?
What if in story one I was not shy but I was a bit different and was interested in other things that the ones in my environment did not care for and I did not care for their things? What if in story two, I was simply enjoying being on stage and the shyness was not one the root cause for me to go there and what if the re-wiring of my story for shyness and unworthiness is simply not true, but that I followed my curiosity, my excitement, my multi-passionate being of learning, achieving, immersing and diving into the world? And the last story I told myself and the world through my writing is simply a story of change, of a depressive mode and a mind that loves to trying to make sense of a phase that re-emerges itself?
We could say… Why do we need to care? Does it matter what stories we tell? Yes and yes. A story as a story is just a story. But often a story is a construct we act upon, we act on, we take into account.
Because I told myself I am shy, I behaved like I was shy. I felt like I need to change myself. I felt like I need to do something about it. I acted upon that story I put in my heart. I learned behaviours and learned communication tactics to overcome that shyness. But what if I never had it in the first place? What if it is simply a story construct that I myself implanted within myself? What if it is not true?
How would my story have played out had I not acted upon that story? What if I would have told myself that I am worthy of who I am, that I am fine, that I am a geat person that deserves to find the place that she acts less shy? How would my story have played out? Which other paths may I have gone?
What if we do that with all our stories? If we look at all of them and dissect them, change them, re-write them? Is it then still our story? Or is it a constructed story? But isn’t every story a constructed story? A story that is purely made up in our mind by seeing patterns, by interpreting patterns, by trying to give meaning to what we do?
But can we ever give meaning to what we do? Can we ever tell if what our mind tells is true? What if it is not? And how do we shape the stories that we tell ourselves?
Stories are often self-fulfilling prohecies. When I tell myself, I am shy and when I follow that storyline, then I will behave more shy around people then if I would tell myself that story that I am confident and excited to meet all these great people and learn from them.
When I tell myself that I am not worthy of the love of a man that I deeply care about, then I will take actions that are like me trying to prove my worthiness. and when I do that I lose myself. And in the end I will lose that person.
When I tell myself, that I am depressed and I try to do everything I can to not be depressed, I will soon be depressed. And when I tell myself, that all my life I had been depressed, I soon will believe that too.
But what if I tell myself instead that I am worthy of love. Or that I am curious. That I love people and that I love to be around them. How will my behavior change?
But is that what we want?
Do we want to have our behaviour changed based on the stories we tell? Is that really how we should live our lives? By telling us stories that we then act upon? Isn’t that a peculiar way to live life? To live and act based on the stories we tell, given how fast we are able to tell ourselves new stories? How fast and easily we can change the stories that are in our head?
Would it not be good if there would be something else? Something free from stories and constructed environments, free from what is in our minds?
When our minds are this flexible, this rigid on the other hand, this easily persuaded, this easily moved from one story to the next, this malleable, can we then really base our behavior upon it? Is that really a clever, helpful, valuable approach to life?
What if instead we do not care. If we let our mind tell and construct stories as it wishes. But what if we do not listen to the stories it tells.
What if we listen to something else? Do something that is not that easily persuaded and distracted, something that easily constructed and pushed in one direction or the other?
What if we simply feel. Simply experience. Simply sense? Simply perceive?That what is happening right now in that moment and let that play out in its fullness. In its simple being. What if in that moment that is the only thing we can do. Listen in. Feeling. Sensing. And Acting upon that simple feeling. What is there in that moment.
What story shall we tell in that moment? When all we do is listening to our body. When we are in feeling, in sensing, in noticing, in observing what is happening within ourselves. And if all we can do is being there.
There is no story, there is no construct, there is no fantasy, there is simply being there in the moment in that moment in time. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The story we tell may be of various colors. The story of what that is. What that moment was, how that moment unfolded. But can the mind dissect what the body felt? Or isn’t that the story itself again that simply tried to bring meaning into what was there? To tell a story of shyness, a story of unworthiness, a story of beauty, a story of awe, a story of connection?
But the body, the body knows how it feels and the body knows what is happening. It can tell. In its own language can it tell: was that a good feeling, was it a beautiful feeling, was it a painful feeling, a confusing feeling? A feeling we often do not even know words to describe.
That feeling tells a different story. A story that is simply happening. That does not need words, it needs hunches, feelings, sentiments. Being. And it does not speak, it does not explain, it does not construct. It simply happens.
Do we never need stories? In its simplest form of life. Stories are told. Stories try to make sense. Stories enhance.
What if our feelings are painful. Always. If there is no beauty in them. If there is nothing left. May stories help us to change? They may, but I do not think so. What if instead we move to feel? What if instead we touch to feel? What if instead we meet to feel? What if we go out and feel? What if we interact to feel? What if we do all those things we can do to feel? And then we feel, deep and open and immersive. And then we see what our feelings tell us, what our body tells us. And we simply follow those feelings that make us truly proud, happy, joyful, content, amazed, in awe, relaxed, and whatever we decide is a feeling, a sentiment, a hunch, a bodily sensation that is doing us good.
And the stories? Which stories will we tell? Which stories will make our life? Is there a story we can tell? Is there a story we want to tell? Can we know that now? Do we know it? Can we tell? Do we want to tell?
Stories make up my mind. They are strong. Beautiful. Dangerous. And happy. But they are constructed. When no stories are left, there is only us. Us in the moment. Feeling. Touching. Sensing. Connecting. Us that live life.
Thought-provoking article.
"Do we want to have our behaviour changed based on the stories we tell?"
I think one thing that can help is to realize that we are not our thoughts and that they don't represent us. This type of mindset is important in general as it helps us to be more independent of our thoughts which oftentimes can be harmful and negative.