Stories we tell ourselves #1

Ornamental grasses catch the light

“We got to stay positive,” the man doing some yard work for me said. He spoke firmly.

I looked at him standing on the gravel in front of my steps, stopped by the sincerity in his voice. This big strong man looked twelve years older than he had last spring. His face was lined and drawn. Last year he’d been whacked by a health challenge serious enough he had to be taken off a ferry. This was followed by tests and medication, which he hated, detested, and despised, to put it mildly. “I managed to stay away from any kind of pills my whole life up to this point,” he’d said. Due to side effects from the medication, he hadn’t had enough energy to come and work at my place for months. And yet here he was now, telling me to stay positive.

“Yes, we absolutely do have to,” I agreed, and burbled something about the bit of sun in the trees and whatever else I could think of to correct my own narrative which had obviously blooped out as negative. Oops.

What is it I’m telling myself today? That’s the thing about stories. They’re powerful. And either the ones we tell us serve us or they don’t. Is there a sparkle in what I’m allowing myself to believe?

One of my Dad’s stories was why there should never be three people to a match when lighting a cigarette. He’d tell me this, eyes gleaming, until I felt I was there with him in the trenches during the Second World War. “It’s night, pitch dark. The shelling has stopped. It’s cold and damp. Everyone needs a cigarette to keep their spirits up. When the match is struck, the enemy sees the light. The second man lights his cigarette from the match; the sniper is swinging his rifle to bear, getting the range. The third soldier goes to light his cigarette and Bang! that’s the end.”

I’d listen, eyes wide, and promise never ever to have three people use one match to light cigarettes. That was my father’s only war story. He never glorified war nor did he talk about his experiences.

This teaching story may not have happened as my father described it. Wikipedia suggests it originated during the Boer War, four decades before WWll.

As humans, we use stories to keep us safe as well as for entertainment. Hence the three-to-a-match tale and the man who was so clear with me about staying positive. My mom always used to insist that even when we kids were really sick with something like measles, we get out of bed in the morning, wash our faces, brush our teeth and tame the magnificent bed-head hair. My sisters and I all had close to waist-length thick hair. A quick swipe with a hairbrush counted for nothing. It was work getting those knots out. Once we’d accomplished our tidy-up, we could go back and crawl underneath the covers. “If you look better, you’ll feel better,” she said. It always annoyed me greatly when I made that enormous effort and found she was right.

I’m realizing that I use a variant of her teachings to this day when I put on a couple of rings and earrings even when I’m not going anywhere or planning to see friends. The jewellery represents courage, a Julian of Norwich, “All is well and all manner of things shall be well.” Our pal Julian is acknowledging a state of blessing for right this second and on into the future. I’m trying not to scare myself when I look in the mirror.

The story I told myself was these nutcrackers belonged to my mom so I had to keep them. I haven’t used them in 20 years. This week I donated them to the thrift store—

Thanks to all of you who reached and wished me well after my last post when I mentioned being in pain. I appreciate the virtual hugs! Also, for those who asked about “Galentine’s” it means not a romantic Valentine’s but women celebrating friendship on or around that day. Gal pals.

Yesterday I was chatting with a buddy who asked how I was. “I’m grumpy,” I said. “I’m going to take that as a good sign that I now have enough energy to feel grumpy.”

She laughed. “Good reframing!”

Then it was my turn to laugh as I was quite sincere; I hadn’t been consciously turning the dial to positive. Oh yay, I’m seeing some sparkle.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious; It is the source of all true art and science. Albert Einstein

On Pender Island where I live, it’s small enough that for the first time in my life, I know a number of people in the community. When I run into an acquaintance at the library, we can smile and exchange a bit of news like, “Last week I bought a magnolia tree!” Everyday magics count, truly.

What extraordinary direction will our troubled world lurch in today? I can only reach for kindness as a first response for all of us: the oceans, my family, the trees, my friends and the world leaders who act with integrity. Sadly, I’m not spiritually evolved enough to be able to extend well-wishing to all the characters in the drama.

Stories inside stories, like Scheherazade and the 1001 Nights. That’s how we live, all of us. What are you telling yourself today? Is the narrative serving you?

The happiness of afternoon sun at Medicine Beach