Collecting Stories

BrockaHealth & WellnessLeave a Comment

Things are starting to come out. Truths are being revealed. Off the cuff and without any shame, she says things. Maybe I’m finally listening.

I’m really hearing it all now, absolutely noting it down, slowly accumulating. I have this ever growing pile for the tome of a book I’ll one day manifest. One day.

We all know that line.

The story I tell myself is one day I’ll tell my story. 

I’m terribly into setting and place; all conditions perfectly buffed, all mood lighting lit. Planned over spontaneity. But there’s never the right time except the now, and all the perfect moments fall into place as we go.

There is never a one day. We have to fill up our time with what we want to do with our time.

Bringing this all back down to earth: everything else is noise. All politics, all news is an amalgamation of Hobbesian actors (selfish, uncivilized) in Kabuki theater (fake, misleading, meaningless). Most of us digesting it and participating in it religiously know this; but we have also strapped-ourselves-in pretty tight and find ourselves stalwarts of a cause.  -my participation in it is an example of a story I’ve told myself.

What are the stories you’ve told yourself about your life and your circumstance?

Recognize your own.

the less time I am on social media in all its forms, the happier I am

But no, really, I don’t need to see the story you are telling to the world.

What I really mean about collecting stories is in addition to our family and our lived past, we are also accumulating this extra, unnecessary, distracting residue. Reacting. Responding. There’s no judgement or fault here, just a product of being of the world. I frankly believe we should all be butting our heads up against what we believe. And if we aren’t, we aren’t growing. This requires information gathering and bouncing in and out of lived experience.

moss on the north side

Hearing stories, hearing it all. Watching and waiting. Parts of ourselves also want to sit and grow moss. Hoping it’s on the north side.

[Maybe this was all metaphorical. Maybe it’s precisely what needed to be said.]


BrockaCollecting Stories

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *