My Stories

What I did?

Meat and blood? A group of organs, glands and bones wrapped in a suit made of human tissue? An exotic matrix of DNA and its variants, woven together by an unknown Source?

No, it's not that complicated. In fact, everything is too easy.

I published a story. Self published. Edited to the point where it was so disturbed at times, it is no longer recognizable. One day I was a blue-collar teacher who loved to write Haiku. Next is a slow run runner that looks better in yellow than in green. Then a writer wanted to vacation in Keys and eat shellfish. My story told me one day, and betrayed me the next.

My stories give rise to the ways in which a farmer disposes of straw waste. Sometimes my story is different. I say I like people, except people I don't like. I tolerate, except those I disagree with. I demand patience, except when I consider others to be too slow for a given task. This is all true, except for the fact that they are not.

Sometimes my story is like lightning, flashing for a moment, only to disappear into the unknown. I'm kind, smart, creative and giving, just seeing these features and blinking at night, depending on the context. Where did they go?

Occasionally my story is found in treasure, such as the diver who found the precious gold and jewels in the drowned Atocha. In those moments of weakness, I gained strength. In times of confusion, I see clearly. In the moment of anger, compassion comes to comfort those in need. Where did they come from?

Sometimes my story is confusing, like hearing the wrong word. I am looking for a quiet person but live with a strong voice and a continuous voice. I want to, and also want to be free of will. I long for freedom, but I am often a slave to my thinking.

Sometimes my story is fake. I pretend I'm not good enough, even knowing we're all as complete as we are. I pretended I was lacking, but I was surrounded by abundance. I pretend I can't, but have decades of evidence to do.

At the end of the day, I just tell my story.

As the days go by, I realize I'm not my story.

I just.

My Stories


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