Reposted from LyviaLife.com:
Lately, I’ve been amused at the thought of how us humans are creatures that need stories, stories that we tell each other in order to understand who we are. Just as we live on the basis of feeling safe and loved, we also keep up with ourselves by hearing and telling stories to one another. I wonder why this happens, why we either consciously or not, do this? Are these signs and ways to bring us closer to purpose and intention? What is the nature of my character? How does the plot unfurl? How far and vivid does my imagination go?
Being (consciously) alive, having some passion and creativity keeps our life ablaze.
As I sit by my kitchen patio door and look outdoors, the sky seems to be speaking to me saying, “Good morning, I am going to accompany you with my warmth and vastness, today”.
In a free society there’s noise as much as there’s silence.There’s opposition as much as accord. Underlying message, there’s freedom of speech and isn’t that a platform given to us to spread our wings wide? This is the place and the space where everything turns on a dime where grace touches you and shows the ways, the turns to take.
Stories don’t hurt us, perhaps many kinds of tyrants do but that’s also within our stories too. Anyone’s story is part of someone else’s, colliding with each other, no?. Like a person in charge of running a ship and a passenger on it both having their own individual backgrounds and landscapes within the bigger one holding them. Or we might think of as one driving a car with one headlight out not seeing clearly ahead of oneself, where inevitably, whatever the temperature gives that too will start clearing away.
Writing, let’s say world-building, to me is honestly enjoying trying to play the role of who you (we) are. Every little detail we can smuggle with us, makes our world and the perceiver’s a bit more real which if it were to be smudged, it’s ok, it’s still ours and our imagination at play. I feel it is vital to be aware of how we live through them unveiling and candidly conveying our truths. Isn’t that a magical thing which sets the tone of how we do what we do? Whether we realize it or not, the chapters, the series, the long or short stories of our lives are like magic dust that soften and disappear deeper and deeper into our hearts, clearing them up to places we never thought can be cleared; those precious places of presence revealed.
These moments end up being a service to ourselves and in amazing ways a service to others around us. Write and rewrite your story again and again.That is what happens here.
I’ll leave us with what feels like soft nudges given to me, back to you.
May light flower in our hearts lending us grace to transform any kind of fear. May purity shimmer in our bones filling us with the light that even one lit candle can provide. May kindness resound in our voice softening the path that lies ahead of us. May clarity shine through our heart minds as we lie in the arms of the infinite beloved. May solace abound in our lives touching and being touched by everyone we meet. May solace abound in the world bringing beings in union with their stories.
Let’s contemplate, let’s come to our inner temples by being the writers of our scripts, of our stories, and discover what’s on the surface and more so, underneath it all.