The Narrative
Photo credit: Scott Cain "Winter Light in the Trees"
Inspired by Sher at www.unboundliving.net
We all have a story. What we do with that story makes a difference to the outcome of what we believe about ourselves.
I have leveraged some of my most significant mistakes to unlock the best parts of myself, and love the parts I hid in shame.
What will you do with your story?
In the dream, where I pretend to carry the story of my occhiolsm. I am a school boy running down a crowded hall. Miraculously this reoccurring theme no longer finds me in my underwear. However what awaits is a test I have yet to study for. The hard floor under the pit-pat of my feet echos with all the noise of a crowded passing period. The slamming metal lockers, is the only sound loud enough to break the din. talking, shouting, and laughing, I too am a ghost in the menagerie as I slues my way under a sea of greenish florescent lights. Clutching tightly against my chest my arm protecting the narrative. My fragile compilation a mess of loose papers, spiral note books, and images from art class. It’s a dangerous assembly in the china shop as I rush cavalierly through the crowded thicket
Close to my heart in handwriting not yet realized, there is spelling that almost resembles phonetic regurgitation. My words and schemes, woven from fantasy and dreams. On pages accompanied by permanent markings not of my own origin. Their briar of roses upon my papers, a porridge of sociopathic and empathic friendly hellos alike. Is a sea of red corrections, that cut through the love poetry nobody wanted, and splash graffiti on those images searching for quiet. These stains only add color to a collection that yearns to be a book. My grand tome envisioned with cover coveted by children. It is all for anyone willing.
Catching my breath slinking into the room I glide into my desk. My pile shoved pellmell beneath me. If I am lucky, you will see in my hand and accept the page carefully folded for you. My note offered in exchange for a page of your story. No test matters more than the contents of these notes we willingly trade in assistance between our thread-work of friends.
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"𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳. " It's fascinating to me how our present mindset creates and projects the interpretation we want to see in someone else's story. Is the test of yourself? Life? Love?
Presently, I am interpreting hope for acceptance, as I know it's an ongoing effort of my journey.
"𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘔𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺."
Here's to the connections that inspire us to keep writing and vulnerably sharing our stories.🥂
For sure I ment a clear projection of self, but I hoped to leave enough room in my words for the reader to make themselves at home in their own way. Kind of like when you stage a home for sale, and take out some of your personal details to make room for a new owner to see the home as their own. As for the "test" it is a reference to many things relating to me and my mindset. Including Death, (my fathers passing fresh on my mind), Anxiety regarding my day to day business and family, The weight of watching my children suffer the difficulties of school and education. When I started writing I some of my thoughts revolved around how I was having a reoccuring dream where I was missing assignments. In the story, a "test" tied up more loose ends in my mind.
ReplyDeleteI like your projection of hope. It's a good fit. Not necessarily intended on my part, but subconsciously I think you see me through the weeds of myself. I am humbled. :)