I say while reaching for the power adapter and scooting out the bedroom, so he can finish the last of his novel The Kite Runner. Once back at my laptop I sip tea and let my eyes float closed, feeling the pang of knowing I could have just let him enjoy the book.
The furnace, she’s blowing her comforting warmth as Saturday’s mid-morning sun streams into my living area-yoga room–the golden possibility flitting at the edges of my computer screen. It’s oddly quiet and peaceful, the twelve year-old already out in the weedy backyard gardening, maybe as an attempt to keep us from moving, away from her favorite house ever.
So, why did I tell him his week’s long literary romp was fiction? He’s read nearly the whole book now, occasionally saying, yeah I think it’s true. He’s been giving me regular updates, his take on the personal struggles of the flawed protagonist, who wrestled with both his conscience and the upheaval of his boyhood home in war-torn Afghanistan.
“It’s fiction.” Well, I think if we take a closer look at stories, we likely realize fiction is laced with elements of truth, and all true stories hold some portion of “made up” as memories of particular life details are extracted from the flesh and blood of gray matter, and typed onto the virtual page.
I’ve been directed throughout my education to embrace the “larger truth” while writing a life event, possibly asking myself, what about this personal experience is universal, meaningful and surprising?
So, what about our own story of ‘becoming?’ Our goals of fit, lean, healthy, rich and loved? As we live our life, which experiences, emotions and thoughts do we focus on, and which do we turn away from? What do we believe is absolutely true verses what we perceive as bunk? What do we write off as trivial, as opposed to what we find meaningful?
Count on Change.
Is what’s real only what we see every day–day in, day out? Here’s one: Is what’s always (seemed) to be, what’s really been? Or, how about this: Are we actually stuck and unchanged? Or are we changing without realizing it?
Change seems to be the actual reality–the thing we can count on, as the saying goes. If we attempt to choose the same thing every day, it’s only similar, not quite the same, because everything, the earth and everything in it is spinning, falling down and rising up–in constant movement–a continual flux of dynamic play.
Static (or ‘stuck’) is a lie. A false perception. What if the shift towards our lusted-after desire, was as simple as taking another way to work? Or imagining another ending to the story? Or about choosing slightly different details along the way? What tools might we choose? Writing a story perhaps?
So, as I ponder the concept of change, goals and personal truth, our bedroom door opens with a slow squeak, he’s sniffing as he makes his way up the hall.
“That was tough,” he says plopping into the chair, eyes wet, face red. “…and satisfying…changes things.” Relieved, I nod, then wonder.
I wonder about stories.
Stories with the power to change a life. What if editing our personal story, our experience, and our life could begin with the simple and close at hand–a personal journal? A meditation cushion? A good coach? Add a dose of your own desire and a willingness to…try. Did you know “essay” like the ones you wrote in school–the definition is “to try.”
A toast beauties, to the possibility of a healthier, leaner ‘uniquely you’ type of story; to redefining “fiction.”
Love and lettuce,
The Zen of Plant Based Lean,