Why we tell each other stories, are the stories the truth?


Of course they aren’t the truth or they wouldn’t be stories. I tell you I don’t have time, I mean I don’t want to. I tell you I don’t have money, but what I mean is I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to save the money or pay the money. I don’t want my money involved with this.

Here’s a story my friend tells is wife. I don’t like this any more. I don’t like how you treat me or how things are going here. I want to go away or to have you go away. This isn’t working.

This real story is that this hasn’t been working forever. That we’ve been doing this all wrong. That I want this to be going one way, but we’re going another.

That’s the odd thing in relationships, creating a story that works for both of you. Some people like being bossed around. Some people like danger. Some people like drama. Some people can’t stop their own addiction issues; they keep running back toward pain and wonderment.

We all get to create our own story with the building blocks of the universe, but we don’t know what we’re doing and we keep losing some of the blocks. My friend and I are trying to feel our way forward into an easier zone. We don’t say we want easier but that’s what we really want. We want a simple life, and since we don’t know how to make one, we keep going forward. The problem is that we were born blind folded and we’re pretty sure that there is a way to remove the blindfold, but we can’t remember. We’re pretty sure we knew once how to remove the blindfold. Perhaps we were born with the instructions on how to remove it, but first of all we can’t read them because of the blindfold, but even if we could get someone to read the instructions, they are unfortunately in a different language, one we recognize as the language of creation, the very first way of speaking which was passed down to generations of birds, insects and reptiles but sadly, not to humans.

We’re pretty sure we are humans. But without language, we cannot move forward.

But we can, it’s all a story. So here is the new story. We can walk forward blind folded. We can keep walking. As we walk, we can shape with our hands the clay of a new soul and we can recreate ourselves. We can pick flowers across from the market of the dead, and wave at those who enter which we will all do someday, but not yet.

We can create this whole new world blindfolded, it will look like an amorphous world, like the kind of bed you see in a child’s room. Shoes on the floor, stockings on the bed. The walls are made of jelly; there is a fireplace. We’re breathing in this new world we’re creating; the ache and curve of loins and wild and fire. Everywhere along the horizon, a blaze of color, sunflowers and poppies blooming. Do you know what all that orange looks like against the sky?

Published in: on October 20, 2013 at 7:04 pm  Leave a Comment  
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