The Story Within A Story
(Okay - I have a metaphor here for you.)
There are two stories in my life (our lives). There are two plot lines simultaneously.
What do we really see? What is the real story here?
One plot line has all the twists and turns and drama of life, the things I do, the conversations I have, the places I go. This story is the one I talk about with others. Such as “I had coffee with a friend;” “I taught a day long class yesterday”; “I’m angry at a friend,” and “my partner kept me up snoring because he is sick.” It is my life… on one level.
Because there is another story as well in my life.
In the other story, things move very slowly. In fact, at any one moment, there is a feeling of such quiet and stillness it’s as if the clock has just stopped. This story has no drama, so at times it can seem so very uninteresting. It fools us in that way, like a tattered book with no picture on the cover that holds deep secrets inside.
In the first story, it’s as if I am on a metro in a city surrounded by people, movement, and noise, however in this other story it’s as if I am curled up in an easy chair with big comfortable worn arms around me. I’m wearing my most comfy clothes and there is a warm fire crackling beside my chair. Everything is in its place and there is no need to do anything to make it better. Peace wafts in the air, as if it was a smell.
You would think that with the fireplace and stillness it might be stuffy but that is not so. Somehow nature has intruded into my sanctuary giving it a feeling of being alive, an indoor forest of sorts... a bird sitting quietly on bookshelf and the babbling of a brook somewhere behind me.
Things move so much slower here. I could think to be impatient but it doesn’t work because my thoughts are unraveled before they grab onto anything. There is a luscious richness everywhere that captivates and soothes my nervous system to the point where it, too, is glad to rest.
Inside of me there is a sense of completion without any accomplishment to tie it to. I am done, I can rest. I am home. I’ve arrived and the appeal of other places is dwindling. Everything settles into the now, the simple stillness of the moment.
There is a quiet that throws an extra blanket around my shoulders and brings me even closer to the earth. The air in the room pauses and I don’t even need to breathe. I’ve returned and there are those who have been waiting for me. I’ve been watched over and waited for by others who have such immense love for me that it almost causes a breeze in this suspended room. But the almost breeze is dwarfed by the rising geyser of love inside of me in response. In an instant every emotional desire inside of me is met. I am full, complete.
My mind who prides itself in intriguing questions has nothing of interest to ask. So it too, settles like a cat on a window sill for a nap.
After a moment or two, maybe three, I dont know... I do notice something very very subtle happening. It strangely gives me a deep sense of peace. For even tho this comfy chair sits in stillness, this slow imperceptible movement is drifting me back closer to my eternal destination, closer to God. I can rest knowing a hidden current in a still lake always takes me deeper home with no effort. I realize now I was working too hard, it was unnecessary, the journey was always underway.
This plot line waits inside of me for me to stop and visit. The fire ever crackles in the fireplace; the easy chair ever sits still and warm for me to curl up in.
I never regret a visit, … never.
You would think I would just stay. But sometimes the flash of the first story distracts me... and I forget. There are also things to do, teeth to brush and planes to board, so I have to step away and engage with the first story or else the dust gathers on my dresser top and, my goodness, my fridge empties of food.
My life, your life, our lives do this dance between the stories.
The easy chair whispers to our heart “don’t forget, don’t forget, come back to visit, come back home.”
We learn in steps…
First, of the mere existence of the second, quiet story.
Second, to visit this quiet enough to bring us love and nourishment while we pound the pavement of the first story.
Third, to incorporate the plot lines together in our body so we walk the world in both.
