I went for a walk this morning not a run
Listened to “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” not “On Being”
Ate eggs for breakfast not fruit
Wrote an essay not a book
Some days, enough is enough.
You – Stone or Story?
Intelligent design and evolution are not only conflicting ideas about the science of biological origins. They are answers to a basic question about the nature of life: Is the truth about something a fixed form, or is it an unfolding story?
I’m interested in this as it relates to our concept of self. These days we talk about “finding myself,” and “being myself,” as if my self is a fixed form, something from which I must strip away all pretense and assorted baggage, in order to find the real, true me.
In the framework of the “unfolding story” theory, I am becoming myself instead of finding myself. Instead of a set-in-stone, pre-designed form, I am an evolving, deepening story. Instead of digging down towards a base layer, I push out into the future, into unexplored territory.
But maybe these aren’t ultimately competing theories. Becoming often feels something like finding, in my experience. As if I am unfolding in a fashion consistent with itself (though not at all predictable), rather than careening forward in chaos.
Some sculptors say that the sculpture is always there, in the stone, and their job is simply to remove everything that doesn’t belong. Some writers say that the story or the song is already out there, in the air, and their job is simply to take hold of it, to let the work of art draw the artist forward into the reality of its being. It would appear that time and space lose at least some of their relevance wherever creation is involved.
Daydreaming and Dirty Dishes
Faith and doubt are two sides of the same coin, two legs of the same body. I can hop around on one or the other, but to really make forward progress, I need to use both, equally and in rhythm.
(I am broadly defining “faith” and “doubt” here. Faith – a sense of the transcendent/spiritual. Doubt – questioning/deconstructing.)
As with the rest of life, it’s easy to rely too much on one leg or the other. For much of my life, I hopped on my faith leg, jumped up on emotional worship songs and connect-the-dots life applications for Bible verses. For the past few years, I’ve been hopping on my doubt leg, cynical, skeptical, defining myself by what I do not believe.
Faith without doubt gets stuck. Faith’s transcendent visions, pursued without the push and pull of doubt’s probing questions, harden to ideological certainties, trading sails on ships on the sea for flags on poles in cement. Dreams and imagination and a hunger for the infinite are replaced with creeds, convictions, and a compulsion to hold tight to the “faith of our fathers.”
Doubt without faith can become equally inflexible, moving from honest engagement and open questioning to meeting every newborn idea with a certain cynicism. Doubt can become an intellectual and emotional posture of “no” that forgets how to play, imagine, daydream.
When I find I would much rather wash the dishes than play make-believe with my children (even if there are no dirty dishes to wash), then I start to wonder how well I’m using both of my legs.
More Thoughts on Stories A and B
Thinking more about the contents of my last post and the thoughtful comments that were made on it, I remembered this poem I had written a few years ago, a little meditation on my tussles with Stories A and B in my own life:
In the springtime of your life
When people make pronouncements
About the heights to which you’ll rise
Someone has a prophecy
Someone says you’re chosen
Don’t tuck it away for later
No, hold that sign up high
Wave that banner with all you’ve got
And go, girl, go
Because a well-preserved ticket
Is useless after the show
And no one cares to hear
About your might-have-beens.
(On the other hand,
An awakening 34-year-old
Is a powerhouse of presence.)
As I mentioned in conversation with Jodi’s comment on the previous post, I think that when I recognize my Story B, it won’t feel like I am “settling” for second-best, although it may look exactly like that to an outside observer.
In my case, I started chasing Story A as a twenty-something singer/songwriter recording my first album in a professional studio in a skyscraper in downtown Minneapolis, financed by two benefactors who saw big things in my future.
Looking back on that over ten years later when I wrote this poem, I mused about how I didn’t work hard enough to actualize Story A. But you can see the seeds of Story B beginning to sprout in the last sentence.
And far from feeling like I’m settling, I feel more deeply alive.
I’ve still not fully elaborated my Story B to my satisfaction, but I feel like I am getting closer. Letting go of other people’s storylines for me, and picking up the threads that are actually there, the real living story of me that can actually be woven into something true and substantial. It may not be big and flashy, but it will be utterly valuable.
So there you go, a little case study for you, my own working out this life-story thing. To paraphrase Stephen Colbert, “I am a Story B (and so can you!)”
“Your One Wild and Precious Life”
What is the story you tell yourself about your life? And how has that been working out for you?
That’s what Steven Pressfield writes about in his recent blog post, “Stories We Tell Ourselves.” In this post, Pressfield quotes his friend Shawn: “‘We all have stories that we tell ourselves about what our lives are—and those stories are always wrong.'” This wrong story, he calls Story A. At some point in our lives, if you and I are to escape embitterment and live free our uniquely beautiful lives, we will recognize Story A for what it is, reject it, and embrace Story B – the real story that has always been there, that we could actually grow into something amazing if we would work with it instead of against it.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” asks Mary Oliver in her poem, “The Summer Day.”
Here’s an exercise worthy of your time and attention – read Steven Pressfield’s post, and then contemplate – write it out, talk it out, walk it out, otherwise work it out – what is the Story A and Story B in your life? You could think further about how you will reject Story A and embrace Story B, but my guess is, if you’ve accurately identified these two stories, that may be all you need to accelerate the true story of your life.
Julia Bloom 