Do we really tell ourselves the stories as they actually happened?
Our cherished memories are often retold in great detail, evoking the same emotions with intensity and recent familiarity. We also listen to the frequent narratives within our families, communities and so on, and with each retelling, the story seems to become more vivid for us. This occasionally works to our advantage.
My wise friend, GD, recently contributed a profound post to my friend Aalif's wonderful blog - 'The Illusion of Ownership'. Two lines from this post have such a depth to them, that I have been savoring them ever since I read the post, namely:
"One has to believe the illusion of ‘me’
before one can create the illusion of ‘mine’."
Considering these lines together with my own blog post, 'What are your memories costing you?', has been a useful contemplation.
To me, what came is that who we consider ourselves to be - is largely the sum of our preferences (and dislikes), strung together with narrative explanations that the mind puts forward for the happenings we experience.
We have invested much in this story of 'me', and much of it, is malleable, questionable - a captivating piece of fiction. Well, all of the 'I' is a story, but at least this rumination is getting one in touch with the experience of the theoretical knowledge.
I am re-posting my blog here, along with GD's lines... and inviting you to meditate on both together for yourself.
Would welcome your insights and comments :)
And there is another lovely post from GD about The Imaginary Story of Me. Please see https://superaalifragilistic.wordpress.com/2013/01/08/the-imaginary-story-of-me/
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