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The stories we tell ourselves

fn_00077I seem to have a prevailing theme in my life this summer. During my summer class (which was just incredible, btw) we discussed the nature of truth. Is there really ‘a’ truth, or is truth just the stories that we tell ourselves. I have also immersed myself in blogs, both through my new RSS reader, through my new research area, and through the conference I recently attended. Blogs are nothing if not pieces of our collective stories thrown together mish mash and aggregated in readers (still in love with blogging, do not get me wrong :-). Yesterday, my kids were laying in my bed, whispering to each other and giggling. Snuggling up to them, I discovered that my daughter was telling this very involved story about a troll who offered her blue popcorn, and why she really loved blue popcorn. She looked up, noticed the strange shape of the ceiling lamp and began to spin her tale to include the lamp. Her story was involved and detailed and so creative. I lay there beside my son, both of us enraptured by her narrative. We all tell ourselves stories, and as adults we spend a lot of energy trying to define and defend them. There are some, however, that are comfortable within their own story, who can spin enchanted tales and swirl together worlds, who walk within their story surrounded by an aura of pride, confidence and joy. My daughter is one of the enchanted spinners of life, and for that I am grateful.

(picture from http://clipartfantasy.altervista.org/mostri.htm)

July 18, 2004 in way too personal | Permalink

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