Your story, weaving it from birth to corpse

Today someone (not in these exact words) verbally reframed something I’ve been musing this week. Aren’t we always retelling the same story, varying layers or perspectives, throughout our entire life? Yes.

tonight My ears are dancing to the gnossiennes. My liver enjoyed its cats claw peppermint tea before bed. And I keep thinking over and over how we infuse our story into the most mundane facts of living…”the car needs a repair!” Bad luck. Mercury in retrograde. This is dire. When in fact all of these trivial life events have only to do with wear and tear. And we need not give them too much attention, or like a child seeking attention, we will further their role in our lives. Get the car repaired…move the story to something more.

I retell my face blindness story in my head over and over…until it makes more sense. I get the language right…online dating…I’d meet many dates at quiet times, for instance, on the roof terrace of the Whole Foods’ headquarters. Not many people there. Get there early so they find you with your nose in a book. Crowded movie theaters or bars and shows challenged me. I always sought to carpool; not meet at the venue. So many stories to every detail and moment like prisms radiating from a quartz.