We tell stories. This is what we do, and why we are. We have been created to create. We tell narratives to ourselves and others. Often these are subconscious; we see a woman dancing and maybe we don't even know we're imagining dancing with her, or being her. We see a fast car and we consider some long unknown ribbon of highway, great adventures, interesting places.
The desire to create stories is woven into our souls; it generates aspirations, it forms ideals. It often is the driving factor in our felt need to possess physical objects-- a certain pair of shoes or a jet ski or a new spoon would make life different.
I like the adage "people before things" and "can't buy happiness" and I see a difference between creating stories, and thinking the world will change for the better if I just buy a new stereo.
But dreaming up narratives isn't just about physical things that spark our imagination. We do it when we dream about falling in love, or we consider a new job, or think about moving to a new state. It involves the notion that change is for the better, always. We are bombarded by constant flux: in fashion, in advertising, in the extra-marital affairs of celebrities who probably have their own little stories about a reclusive cabin in the woods somewhere.
Narrative stories fill our lives. We make up stories about ourselves and about other people. Who are you really? And who is that man on the bench wearing the black coat and the shabby brown wool sweater, looks like he hasn't shaved in two days, probably (ahh, see?) smells like bourbon and pipe tobacco. He's waiting for someone? He's resting before he walks home after a wild night? He looks handsome in a rugged kind of way and maybe he was an architect or an electrician or a professor, maybe a writer, maybe he's making up a story about you, right now...
It's the speculation, the human interest in the past and the desire to know what the future may hold, our hope to make some mark on the face of time, to remember, to create, and here we are, thinking the eternal "what if...?"
The desire to create stories is woven into our souls; it generates aspirations, it forms ideals. It often is the driving factor in our felt need to possess physical objects-- a certain pair of shoes or a jet ski or a new spoon would make life different.
I like the adage "people before things" and "can't buy happiness" and I see a difference between creating stories, and thinking the world will change for the better if I just buy a new stereo.
But dreaming up narratives isn't just about physical things that spark our imagination. We do it when we dream about falling in love, or we consider a new job, or think about moving to a new state. It involves the notion that change is for the better, always. We are bombarded by constant flux: in fashion, in advertising, in the extra-marital affairs of celebrities who probably have their own little stories about a reclusive cabin in the woods somewhere.
Narrative stories fill our lives. We make up stories about ourselves and about other people. Who are you really? And who is that man on the bench wearing the black coat and the shabby brown wool sweater, looks like he hasn't shaved in two days, probably (ahh, see?) smells like bourbon and pipe tobacco. He's waiting for someone? He's resting before he walks home after a wild night? He looks handsome in a rugged kind of way and maybe he was an architect or an electrician or a professor, maybe a writer, maybe he's making up a story about you, right now...
It's the speculation, the human interest in the past and the desire to know what the future may hold, our hope to make some mark on the face of time, to remember, to create, and here we are, thinking the eternal "what if...?"
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