We live in stories. We breathe them. They’re an inescapable part of being human.
Our stories tell us who people are, what life is and what’s possible for us to do.
Our capacity to delude ourselves with stories that cover up what’s true is most on my mind today.
We tell ourselves stories that bolster our self-esteem and blind us to the consequences of our choices. We tell ourselves stories that ignore our own actions or interpret them away. We tell ourselves stories that make the world about us alone, and stories that explain things as we like to explain them, because we feel better that way.
And while every story opens up a world of possibilities, it closes down another, so the stories we tell ourselves matter.
So often, we’d rather believe our familiar stories than look at the world and what we’re up to in it with wide open eyes.