The stories we tell to ourselves (private) and about ourselves (public) are not always the truth, or at least not completely accurate. Hmmm?
They are, like it or not, good or bad, more inspirational and aspirational, stories that we want ourselves, and others, to desperately believe, about what we are and what we are doing.
But are these stories true or false?
I’m not saying that these kinds of stories are intentional deceptions and falsehoods. They’re not, generally.
But, sometimes, amidst the confusion, and overwhelming urge to be recognized and validated, they are awful close to fabricating reality.
I truly believe that the stories we tell, to and about ourselves, are simply, overdramatizations and over-embellishments.
We want, in our core, desperately, for others to think kindly and highly of us.
Fair enough.
But the sad part of these magnifications and elaborations is that we somehow, in our minds, confuse who we really are with who we really want to be.
Who we really are, should be enough?
The truth is, the best stories to and about ourselves, are authentic, honest stories.
Don’t confuse aspiration with reality.
It’s good, even great, to want to be thought highly of yourself, by yourself, and by others.
But if it’s not the full story, it’s not the honest story.
And if it’s not the honest story, then maybe it makes sense to go back to the well of vulnerability and ask ourselves, over and over again, as we listen to our own private thoughts and public ornamentations, who are we, really?
The only story I can tell, to myself, and about myself, is that I am a photographer.
That is the truth. For the rest of the stories about myself…it’s a work in progress.
When I am weak, I am strong.
When I am soft, I am hard
When I am first, I am last
When I am honest, I am whole.
Click.
Jack
