The story’s I tell myself are rarely the whole truth. They come in strong, they feel real, but can change directions, like the winds at the edge of the ocean.
I believe the absolute truth of them until something shifts internally and I drift into another thought or belief pattern that has been there, waiting for me to see.
Don’t set my words, thoughts and beliefs in concrete, because as I learn, grow & dream, they will change.
Today’s words don’t have to be the eternal truth. They are just part of my story that I bring back from my Dreams. The words are just bits and pieces of Now but not Everything.
In one story my parents are dead. They are gone and can’t be touched ever again. Ashes to Ashes.
Then in another story, the one where I close my eyes and drift into the unknown place, they are there laughing and telling me that everything is perfect and I’ll be all right. They are fine. I am fine. I can touch my Mom in that story. Feel her soft cheek against mine. I can hear her say, “Oh honey” with so much love that I bring real tears, from that story, into the other. I bring the Love too. It’s not a word it’s a feeling.
Does a time and a place exist where this story is real? Yes. I just don’t have a label big enough for it.
The bad story’s. They are fading farther and farther away. I no longer want to tell them, to myself or to anyone else. They no longer feel like they are a part of me. I have let them go. I have changed the script. Because I can.
The Dreams are real. Everything else is unpredictable & ever changing.