We might like to believe that we are the storytellers, but in truth, the story came first. ‘Story’ could be a verb instead of a noun: ‘To story’, an activity of unfolding narrative.

telling stories

We might like to believe that we are the storytellers, but in truth, the story came first.

‘Story’ could be a verb instead of a noun: ‘To story’, an activity of unfolding narrative.

Have you noticed you bring behaviours from one relationship to the next? How in different times and in different places the same patterns emerge? And even though you might not like the role, there’s a comfort in the regularity of it that holds you trapped?

That’s the power of conditioning, of the story, storying. Our conditioning lends us to falling into certain roles: the villain, the victim and the rescuer. When the drama ramps up, we’ll find we’re already in character.

Once the story is truly seen, it loses its power. You can no longer be shaped and nudged and herded along well-worn pathways. It isn’t comfortable to turn and face the story. But the only thing the character cannot stand is calm scrutiny. Because the character was never anything more than the story. Only the glamour of the tale kept the character alive.

Without the character, without the conditioning and the story, who are you? You might not know to begin with. That’s OK. Stay with it. Now that you’ve seen through the story there is nowhere to go back to.

The memory of who we are, beyond the story, rolls in like the tide. Washes away resistance.

The story resists experience. Seeks a “happy ever after”. Wants the villain to be vanquished and the princess to ride into the sunset with her prince.

The story offers hope. And hope is the biggest distraction from Now.

Are you ready to turn and face the story?

With Love,
Sara

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