The Story We Tell Ourselves

Think of a large canvas, one that transcends the time and space continuum, as a representation of humanity. If you carefully examine its four-dimensional existence, you realise it’s both full and empty. It’s only in your eyes as an observer and at the moment that you observe, you realise the contradicting qualities of this canvas. The inherent duality of this canvas is due to what occupies its endless existence and how we perceive it: stories. Is there anything in our life that is not a story?

Adam and Eve is a story, and so is the Great Flood. The lives of Moses, Buddha, Jesus and Mohamed are stories. The entire religion of Hinduism is a series of outlandish stories that render Biblical stories to be severely lacking in symbolism and imagination. A mother soothes her child and a father teaches his son with a story. Bedouins in the desert and tribesmen in African bushes tell stories to pass the time. Lawyers in courtrooms and executives in boardrooms tell stories. 

Stories are the vehicles that encapsulate our memories, our beliefs and our desires. Our consciousness is a story that defines who we are in relation to those around us and the universe as a whole. We may not be able to articulate it, but it’s a story nevertheless. Our past is a story that happened, our present is a story unfolding, and our future is a story yet to come. At times the story seems predetermined, that we are acting out a script that existed before time itself. Other times, the story is well within our fingertips. We map it out as we see fit.  

Because a story is a living creature. It bends, turns, expands and contracts. It feeds on our time, surroundings and circumstances; it also feeds our perception of who we are and where we stand in this world. It gives us a sense of who we are and this sense changes as we change with time. Those who detest change, do they detest it for the inherent risk it carries or do they fear how this change will twist the story of who they are? What if no one likes how the story turns?

It is us who narrate our story! It’s in the way we cruise through life and the way we carry ourselves. It’s in how we compromise and where we refuse to compromise. Our story presents itself in the kind of decisions we take, the responsibilities we assume and the values we hold on to or give up altogether. One must sympathise with the need to protect our story. There is no greater threat than finding out we do not really know who we are, for that is the seed of uncertainty, and who likes an uncertain story?

It’s us who write our stories. It is us who decide how simple or convoluted our story will be. Some of us like their story to be short and sweet, while others can’t help but fall for the plot twist. It is entirely possible that we let the story write itself, and many, in fact, do. It’s unlikely that a story left to destiny would be the greatest story ever told, but it’s not impossible, either. It is essential, however, that we like how the story pans out. There is nothing more off-putting than a self-loathing story. 

It is crucial that we allow the story to evolve with time. It is the way a story survives. It’s much like earth, water and the sun for a plant. A story that is not allowed to evolve is reduced to a miniature version of itself, often satirical and occasionally sad. The way we make our story evolve is by owning it, feeding it and nurturing it. Your story is seedling, and you are the gardener. Only you can have it grow and flourish. If your fingers are green enough, maybe your story will last for generations to come. 

We need to dream of who we ought to be, a refined version of our current selves. However, we will need to wake up at a point. Dreaming alone wouldn’t write a good story. We need to accept our desires, however wild they are. Desire is the fuel that keeps the story going. We need to understand who we are, accept who we are and love who we are. That ensures an honest story, and everyone loves an honest story. Ego, what’s wrong with it? It’s not all that bad. Remember, Cheops, the pharaoh of Egypt, didn’t build the Great Pyramid of Giza out of his humility. He built it because he believed he was God on earth, so be the pharaoh of your own story.