Sometimes I find myself trying to paint a story. Slogging though the details of the image, the narrative elements, I end up simply irritated. I’d rather be reading the words. In Telephone, I wanted the pay phone to be saying, “give up, stop while you’re ahead, end of story, leave.”
Everywhere I go I’m bothered by the peripheral sight of people nervously fondling their phones, checking for messages, holding off just…. 10 more seconds before checking again. What are they hoping to read?
Stories shape us and we shape them. It’s a fine (im)balance. The words we speak out, and the ones we let in, all create a personal narrative that either helps us or hinders us. Congruence and incongruence (Carl Rogers).
Feeling safe comes when reality doesn’t threaten self-concept.
What if the word Exit appears on a locked door? Memories shape our stories, but our stories can also shape memory. We are not hostages to our own plot lines; editing and even grand revisions can occur. But keep the red pencil of reality handy.
Don’t let the little birds tell you everything.