Wednesday, May 24, 2017

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

There is a Beautiful Thing and the story she tells about how it is in her house, on her hearth, by her feet, is not true. The story started almost as soon as we bought it. It was somehow not enough that it was a Beautiful Thing and that it spoke to her, to us, and she loved it. There had to be more.

And there is. It's a better story. A meaningful narrative addition that makes it make sense to spend that money on a Beautiful Thing with no utility.

 Other than its beauty and the story of how it came to be in her house, on her hearth, at her feet.

Funny the stories we tell ourselves to give that narrative arc to our lives. Sometimes we rip the whole thing up and rewrite. Is that benefit of hindsight, the truth we didn't see before, or rewriting history to suit our sense of self, as heroes of our own lives? (Well, who else is going to be.)

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