Writing our own story

Seems I have a few spots on my personal glow again. Need to scrub the shine back in. So as usual I wander with words a bit till the shine is back to its eye-watering glory.

Apparently the blogging world (at least the little bit of it that I visit) slows down during the summer months. Which is a good sign because that means people are actually getting of their computers and enjoying the “real” world a bit. That and my new project, have kept me from keeping up regularly with the blogs I used to follow more thoroughly. But I still peek in here and there, if not all and consistently. And as often happens (with my life anyway) it seems I will encounter something that completely resonates with my state of mind, or just find a needed reminder.

Yesterday I got to a point in my book (early as it is in it) that would be pivotal in the direction the story takes. And I am not sure that I am doing things as I should for the good of the story. I might be trying to force it in a direction that it does not actually want to go, and that could potentially ruin what is created. Or weaken it anyway. But ultimately, as it is my creation, it  is my decision to make. And once I have made the decision, the story will become what it will.

What a profound metaphor for life this is.

Yesterday my sister wrote about lines. Lines that connect. Lines that divide.  Lines often created by others to force all stories in the same direction.

Yesterday another a blogging brother wrote about intolerance. About people who think that their story is the only one and that all stories should match theirs. Even if their story is not even well written.

Yesterday a “well-meaning” friend of mine tried to convince me that some of the decisions I am making for MY story are not the right ones. Again trying to make my story conform to his.

We each are the authors of our own life story. There will be pivotal chapters in every story that can completely alter the ultimate direction the story takes. But we are the authors. Only we can truly write each chapter. This does not mean don’t read other’s stories. Or even be influenced by them. But we should each worry most about our own story; make sure it is edited properly and will be worth reading when it is done. How can we try to write other’s stories when our’s isn’t even done yet?

What makes the grand story of life so interesting is that it is a compendium of a vast multitude of unique individual stories. What value would there be in a world where everyone’s story is exactly the same? And who has the right to determine that their story is more important than another’s?

Ok scrubbing done and shine growing again. Ironically the dilemma with the book that started this train of though is also ended with this little meander. Both because of my own words and an email from my sister while I was writing this.

I look forward to writing … and reading … my own story.

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