We cling to our stories so much. Because it feels like it validates life's path somehow. We depend on our stories to gauge our self-concept - our righteousness. But with our stories, we just limit ourselves. We define our identities with it. Maybe it's that, without it, we just don't know who we are. But then, what if the stories we keep telling ourselves cease to exist?
What then, do we make of ourselves? "I used to say 'XYZ' - but 'PQR' is happening right now." Our beliefs, they challenge us. They show up to humble us. Nothing that we hold so steadfast as our story can remain true forever. That what we have been carrying is false.
All of this is probably some way of making sense of existence. "You are here for a purpose". "What is meant for you will never pass by you". "Fall down seven times, stand up eight". These are the stories we keep telling ourselves - to keep going, to keep figuring it out. In that way, I think that as a collective, we humans are brave. Somehow innately knowing that there is no point in our existence - we make up stories to keep moving ahead. But what disturbs me is that if everything that we tell ourselves and each other is make-believe, then why should we fight over these differences in beliefs?
The stories we tell others don't matter as much as the stories we keep perceiving in our minds. Our whole life is based on the interpretation of these stories. These stories highly reveal our sense of self - our superiority complexes, our sense of entitlement, our victim mindset, and the most cruel one - the critical mind. Our critical mind is constantly perceiving us through our primal conditioning. It is the seat of our 'moral conscience'. I believe that this conditioning is extreme on the critical spectrum and is absolutist. It always needs a final say, and to be right.






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