“Don’t approach your history for its cautionary fruit . . . Tell your stories, and your story will be revealed . . . Don’t be afraid of appearing angry, small-minded, obtuse, mean, immoral, amoral, calculating, or anything else. Take no care for your dignity . . .”
– Mary Karr (author of Lit)
Our subconscious is perfectly designed for this process. It already knows the story. Our only job is to remain curious and inquire into the nature of things. As we do this, our story comes into focus. It takes time and patience. We are being asked to relax and trust while continuing to inquire. When we get scared, we inquire into the nature of our fear. When we get cocky, we inquire into the nature of that as well.
Our ego, the personal, is what limits us. When we connect to the dilemma at the heart of our story we connect to the universal and specific images are revealed. Whether conscious or not, our desire to write is a desire to explore the nature of something through a particular event.
In essence, what we are doing is asking “why?” There is something primal about this question. Children ask it incessantly. It is about survival and evolution. Asking why is essential to get underneath the events (the plot) in our story. Underlying these events is a fundamental truth, as opposed to our idea of the way things are. It is not that our ideas are wrong it is just that they are not the whole story. It requires bravery to challenge our beliefs. Through story we seek revelation, where our perception widens and we are liberated from some idea that kept us tethered. For a long time the idea may have provided a sense of security, but somewhere within us lies the desire for a greater freedom – for love.
Because at the core, every story is about love. Love is the mystery that is always on the table. It is our truest nature and the ultimate catalyst in restoring order.
We continue to fill endless volumes examining its countless manifestations. It is primal and essential to our evolution, and asking why is the gateway to an answer.