Our minds, encapsulated somewhere within the gray, squishy brain matter between our ears compose daily, sometimes moment-to-moment stories. They are elaborate, fully choreographed, deliciously dialogued stories; tales of “he said/she said” that we personally fashion to fit our particular need in the moment. They are magical fables, totally self-conceived, that essentially function solely as fuel for the ego mind’s insatiable appetite to bolster its case against trusting our soul’s message: to love, forgive, heal, and learn––with grace and gratitude.
Not too long ago, I listened to a version of my own story swirling inside my mind, feeling like some cheap whiskey inside a Styrofoam cup. It said, “She doesn’t trust you. She’s never really trusted you, so what did you expect?” And other similar words to that effect. And then, just for good measure, my tenacious ego-mind conjured up various old movies from the past, some over 40 years old mind you, to highlight ancient vignettes that would support my personally created stories’ case.
“See? What did I tell you? See how she’s never trusted you? Look at all those times she thought you were full of it. See? See?”
Do you hear the rather large component of self-righteousness, not to mention, arrogance, here? If we allow ourselves to become a good witness for a minute––we’ll discover that the need to be right will take center stage every single time. It’s a very expensive habit we can ill afford, as illness is precisely where we are headed as long as we choose to listen to the ego-mind’s demand to be right.
When something doesn’t go our way, when someone doesn’t do what we think they “should” or “shouldn’t do” we tell ourselves stories as to why they’re wrong and we’re right. If only they did it our way, in our time, everything would be so much better. We make it all up, folks.
It’s the big human pretend movie. We’re not only the star, but since it’s our story, we also play all the roles so that it fits our self-penned narrative to our benefit.
From that place, we completely forget how much we love our partners, friends and children…and life itself. It doesn’t dawn on us to take a breath, or two or three, while we allow ourselves to connect to the incident or person with love and appreciation. When we do, the difference is extraordinary, instantly replaced by colorful blue butterflies, luscious, red rose petals, and passionate air kisses. Or your version thereof.
What if, the next time you become aware of your personally spun yarn, you acknowledge its source, kindly escort it to the exit doors and begin to work on a more loving version of the Truth?
You have nothing to lose.
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