I am the reader of my story, but I am also the author of my story;
I am the object of my story, but I am also the subject of my story;
I am the critic of my story, but I am also the observer of my story
in holding fast to a belief, assuming what I wish, must I, should I
ignore, dismiss, avoid, suppress, evade, or bypass impossibilities?
might these impossibilities merely be … perceived impossibilities?
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From one point of view, the story of my life has already been written; from another point of view, the story of my life has yet to be written; and from yet another point of view, the story of my life continues to be written, here and now, as I persist in thinking and typing these words.
As I persist in giving voice to my thoughts, feelings, urges, impulses.
1
I could hold fast to the belief that the story of my life has already been written: past, present, and future are illusions from the perspective of timespace; all possible events in the story of my life have already occurred, are already occurring, energetically bound in three dimensions of time and one dimension of space; and as the reader of my story, I need only switch my point of view in spacetime.
With this belief, I need only love what is, accept what is, forgive what is, without resistance, including the resistance itself, as it presents itself for my pondering and processing. With this belief, I need only bow to my fate: I need only allow whatever happens be okay, to be as it is.
2
By the same token, I could hold fast to the belief that the story of my life has yet to be written. Here, I am not merely a reader, but an author; not merely an object, but a subject; not merely a critic, but an observer. Here, I cannot merely love, trust, accept, and forgive what is.
In the same pulsating vein, I might believe that I can be more and do more, be better and do better, be different and do it differently, in light of any purpose for my life that would presume to clarify and unify a destiny with all manner of beauty, harmony, serenity, intimacy, ecstasy.
3
But then, I ask myself: why not hold fast to the belief that I am writing the story of my life? Why not hold fast to the belief that I am motivated and inspired to be at cause to choose the events of my life, so as to elicit, manifest, and realize desired effects, results, and outcomes?
Which approach to life would myself-to-be respect and appreciate from myself-here-and-now? Here and now, I am both a product of fate and a process in view of a date with destiny. Only question is … is this process of mine unconscious or conscious, regressive or progressive?
How might the story of my life remain conscious and progressive?