More Complex Than A Story Can Tell

More Complex Than A Story Can Tell

photo credit: duncan c

In whatever shape it may take, whenever I hear a story, I find myself wondering how it is serving the person who is telling it. I understand what’s being presented is not the whole story, and perhaps, it’s not even half. It’s the version of the story the storyteller wants to share with me and it’s the version of the story they want to see.

We can have a lot of unconscious motivations and intentions behind the stories we tell, and while it would be lovely to think they are all pure and love-filled, this may not be true. We share stories to share a story—to share a version of events that we feel will be emotionally impactful. It’s not the truth per say, otherwise we might call it that.

I suppose I don’t put a lot of value on my own stories and those of others. They are there to entertain and educate, but to hold them as “the truth” and/or to hold my own experiences up to them in comparison, feels like a fool’s game. A story might sound complete but the truth is, it only contains the parts wanted to be shared, the parts that keep it intact and “true.” The whole truth is far more nuanced and complex than any story can tell.

Stories by their definition and essence are leading. They are meant to take you on a journey where the course has already been planned. We need to see stories as such, for our own health and happiness. We need to know they are not “the truth,” and are not intended to be. They are simply creations of our experience and our imagination, and how we need to perceive things. There is no need to attach to them.

Write your stories. Love your stories. And acknowledge them for “the truth” they are not. See the stories you attract—and are attracted to—for what they are: expressions of you, and how you perceive your world.

photo credit: duncan c

The Motion of Emotion

The Motion of Emotion

photo credit Joschko Hammermann

My emotions are not me.

They are my energy, in motion. I am not responsible for my emotions—I am responsible for what I do with them.

It’s interesting to me how much my feelings change, how much I am in a state of shifting emotion. This awareness affirms that in fact my feelings truly are in motion, and it affirms how unhelpful it is when I try to hold onto the energy they bring. My emotions are in motion for a reason, and attempting to control their movement, by stopping it and/or holding onto it, does nothing for me. In my attachment to my feelings, I miss their point.

9 seconds.

I read that our anger lasts for 9 seconds, unless we attach to it, catch on to it, get caught up in it. 9 seconds for the emotion to move through us, if we let it. 9 seconds for the wave to pass.

In motion for a reason.

My emotions rise and fall, never staying steady. They move around and they are hard to catch. Growing wiser to their pattern, I’m trying to not control my emotions so much. Instead, I’m trying to let them be. Instead, I’m learning to ride their rise and fall, letting them lap at the shore of my awareness and then retreat. Responsible to the inevitable motion of my emotions, I’m understanding it’s not what I feel that matters but how I handle it.

photo credit: Joschko Hammermann

Blinded By The Light

Blinded By The Light

photo credit: Craig Sunter

There’s a problem with abundance. In living with it—and amongst it—there’s a risk I will stop seeing it as a thing of beauty—and the gift that it is.

The very real risk with abundance is I’ll take it for granted—either by expecting it to always be there, and/or by not acknowledging its presence fully in my life. Either approach spoils my appreciation of it.

The very real gift of abundance is in learning to receive it fully, it stretches me. For to fully honour it, I must acknowledge how fortunate I am, by remaining thankful for my life amongst the pain of it. Being present to this gratitude, my abundance can not be spoiled. I will not become blind to it’s presence.

My world is abundant for a reason. It is here to expand me. For it to do anything else, like spoil me, is my choice alone. Money (and other forms of wealth) simply do not have that power over me (or anyone else), and never have. It is I that gives my power to them.

I always have a choice in how I acknowledge the abundance of my world. In the end, what truly grows the wealth of my world, is my desire to become more skillfully aware of how I choose to receive abundance—and how I choose to give it.

photo credit: Craig Sunter