Why Should I Care?
Even if it’s true that I am filtering the world, experiencing the world, through my stories – why does that matter? Why would I want to notice that?
In a way, it doesn’t matter. It’s just what minds do, what humans do. It’s part of the human experience, and inevitable. We’re not trying to change that. (Repeat: We’re not trying to change that!)
But, if we distinguish more clearly that the stories are there, some changes can start to occur in our lives that we might experience as positive:
· When we are not believing our stories are ‘the truth’ as readily, our mind stays open and we can perceive what is actually in front of us more accurately – which leads to better decisions
For example, when I start my day with a rigid idea of what needs to be done (my ‘story’ about the day, about what’s required), it’s easy to put the blinkers on and not notice other possibilities. A few days ago, I felt a bit overwhelmed and wanted to bear down and just get certain things done; but I noticed that feeling, and went inside myself to ask if I could loosen that up and leave room for other things to arise. Shortly after, a friend phoned long-distance and we talked for an hour – and I was able to easily shift gears. That call turned out to be valuable to me for many reasons, much more valuable than what I had planned to do for the day.
Another area in which this applies is in the medical field. In the book “How Doctors Think”, it’s emphasized that a major difference that separates the best doctors from the mediocre is their ability to hold their hypotheses lightly, to stay open to new interpretations, so that it’s easier to discern when they are wrong or only partially right in their original diagnosis.
Even our ‘good’ stories can lead us astray. When my brother was younger, he talked about a situation that was happening in his office. With many more years of business experience under my belt, I expressed some reservations about the way he was approaching the issues and the politics. He brushed me off without really listening and explained exuberantly that this office wasn’t political, that it was very open and collaborative. A month or two later, he was fired, nearly on the eve of having triplets. His ‘story’ about his work environment kept him from noticing the danger signals or contemplating advice.
· We are able to experience more peace of mind when we don’t take our stories as seriously, even though they may still spin around in our heads at times.
For example, we all have repetitive patterns of thinking about certain things. I’m self-employed and occasionally there are months when the company doesn’t make any money. It’s easy to start up a narrative about complete financial ruin. But over time I’ve come to understand that although I’ve had those thoughts come up repeatedly, it’s never happened. So I can notice the inner narrative as it starts up – “oh, hi, it’s you again” but not really take it too seriously.
For those of you who’ve seen the movie “A Beautiful Mind”, it also provides a good example. John Nash experienced delusions of people who spoke to him and affected his behaviour, often for the worse. As time went on and he understood his mind more accurately, John Nash still saw the illusory people wandering around; but over time, he just knew that he could and should ignore them.
· When we are "with" others but not fully present because of our inner, subjective saga (the angry, excited, fearful, planning and/or acquisitive stories in our minds), we fail to see and feel what others are actually experiencing. This is often sensed by them to be a lack of compassion and connection. Meeting our stories as stories can loosen their grip on us, and allow us to be with others more fully, communicating on a deeper, more satisfying level.
Imagine a time when you’ve just had big news, exciting or upsetting, and your mind was running rampant. When a friend or child needs your attention at that moment, doesn’t it feel like wading through fog or mud to respond?
Conversely, we’ve all had those times when we seem to be fully present and undistracted when someone needs our attention. Sometimes it can seem like we magically and effortlessly know what is required in that moment. Our intuition is able to read the situation more fully, and helpful words, ideas and solutions appear more readily.
· Similarly, when we see through our stories about others, we no longer relate to them out of our ideas about who they are, but we are actually able to connect more intimately to the real person in front of us.
A powerful example of this happened in my life recently. My “story” about my father has always been that he is easily angered, and unpredictable -- that if you criticize him he will be disproportionately defensive and aggressive. From the time I was a little girl, I was always afraid of his anger, so over the years I developed a relationship with him that was friendly but didn’t have the honest intimacy I would have liked.
Frequently, I felt that he would ask me a question about something important to me, then not listen to the answer, or change the subject shortly after asking. This hurt my feelings, but in keeping with my fear of being honest in this kind of circumstance, I kept that to myself and just maintained a kind of superficial connection that built a wall over time.
Recently it happened again, and for some reason I saw the situation freshly. I saw a man who wants to be closer to his children as he ages -- a man who has softened, opened and grown over the years. I decided to take the chance of speaking to him about my hurt feelings.
It was an amazing and heartfelt experience. He was very open and though he didn’t realize he was turning away from my responses, he completely trusted that it was my experience, and wasn't defensive at all. He expressed how much he loves me and how he would never want to hurt me. He thanked me for telling him about my hurt feelings, and asked why I didn’t tell him sooner. We continued to talk for a while and it was the warmest and closest conversation that we’d had as adults, as far as I can remember. There are many times I give thanks for having gotten on the ‘awareness path’ and that was one of them.
· Last but not at all least: there is a kind of vibrant aliveness in being in direct contact with the world, with people, with the earth, with circumstances arising and falling away, that is very satisfying and heart-filling. We all have those moments already when we find ourselves fully in the world. Sometimes it happens in nature, or looking into a child’s eyes, or in a moment of danger or surprise. That sense of being right here comes upon us. Exploring and seeing through our storylines can bring that vibrant aliveness into our daily lives more often, as the ‘filter’ of our stories becomes more transparent.
If we aspire to a more satisfying level of connection and presence in the world, a more spiritual experience of living, the first step is in developing a deepening awareness of how stories arise and shape our experience of events and people.