telling stories

I love words. Letters really. I like to feel how they form as I scribe them in journals. I like to see them in assorted handwritings on papers of all kinds. I like to hear how they come together to form different sounds.
I love to use words; in my artwork to lead into a story. In my journal to take me through questions and on to a resolution. In my blog to share who I am with whomever decides to check it out.
But I've come to realize that words can come together to tell stories that don't always do good. These stories are told to ourselves, in our heads, and often times, no, most of the time, lead us into verse that is terribly misdirected and does more harm than good.
Planted from an encounter, watered with associations from the past and fertilized by our own fears and insecurities, these stories can grow to become a reality stronger and more real than the one standing in front of us.
What a foolish waste of a beautiful thing! For more often than not the only thing grows from these are heartache, loss and pain. That and an opportunity to learn.
If one is honest to what they are doing-watering a thorn bush rather than an oak tree-fess up to this and release determination to be right in it-to hold onto this story for prides sake even in the midst of contrary elements-one gets to learn. And to grow. And to become better and stronger.
For me it means becoming better at being the soul I was created to be: To walk the talk He planted in my heart. Whatever your analogy, in the end, to be able to embrace the growth opportunity-let go of the selfishness in it and to open your heart to what is in front of you, the stories will lose their appeal. They will grow more faint, carry less verbage and eventually fall away. Which leaves room for other things to fill in its place~
Grace. Abounding love. Getting to live the true definition of happiness. in love. trish.