On Reflections
I just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I was talking to my coworker, Julie, about words. ;)
And I looked at myself. I looked at me. That was me in the mirror. This is me typing.
I am that person. This is what I look like. I am this form, this being, this reflection.
I am both the reflection in the mirror and the reflection of a tri-being immortal king.
What do I reflect?
What image do I cast to those other reflecting (outward lives) stories (people)?
Do I reflect my author?
My mood, my current circumstances? what do I reflect?
Confidence? Patience? Tiredness? Laziness?
Who is me, this person, this shape, this entity taking up someone else's air?
Why do I care?
Because to better know what I reflect will help me reflect well on the whole (either better than before or better from pretty okay). Better reflecting = better story.
And I deeply want to be a story well.
Like someone is a knight in a play, so I am a story in life.
On Stories
We are stories. we exist in
stories. stories are our most go-to outlet, our most sought after treasure
in all societies. we deeply want to know our story, and either in our
pursuit or failure to conjure up the entirety of our own, we glean from
many others and invite those to become a part of ours. and tragically,
even to the point of when we believe our stories are found wanting we
assimilate ourselves into others' that cannot truly become our own.
there is one big story. and that's the one which all of ours flow in and
throughout. may our stories become even more deeply known to us. as for me, i want
to live my story well.
Vigilantibus fiant. Carpe diem.
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