I made up a story today

I made up a story today, and then decided to change the script.

Here’s what happened:

Everyone in Jamaica is preparing to greet Hurricane Gustav. Realising the imminence of the storm, I offered to drop the lady who does my ironing to her home. She lives in what we in Jamaica call “di ghetto”. As I drove off from her drop-off point, to my left I saw two young men with a dog. One was seated, wearing a hoodie with the hood drawn up over his head. The other was standing in front of him holding the dog’s leash. The dog was a recently groomed Shih Tzu wearing a red collar. It was squirming a bit and the man who was seated seemed to be trying to hold it. Those are the facts.

But facts are never enough. As humans, we put our mind to work to try to make meaning of what we have observed. And so, this was my story:

The men stole the dog. That was my first premise for surely two ghetto youths would not be able to own such a groomed, pedigreed dog. Then I started to embroider this story even more – the seated man had the hoodie pulled up over his head, clearly trying to hide his face as a thief would do. I started to feel sorry for the dog and the owner. I became angry at the men, and even more angry at myself for not being brave enough to stop and rescue the dog. For of course, I also built into the story that being thieves, they must have guns, so I would be risking my life to rescue the dog! I worked myself up into quite a state, almost to the point of tears, memories resurfacing of my sister’s dog that disappeared the day Hurricane Ivan hit in 2004. By the time I finally called my sister to relate the story, I was quite distraught.

Luckily, my sister and I are checks and balances for each other. As I related the story, I started to really listen to what I was saying, abetted by her insightful comments and questioning. Soon, we were making up alternative stories about the scenario. And we ended realising that since we didn’t know anything, we could choose to believe whichever story we wanted to believe. And so we chose to believe the story that the dog was lost, the men found her and would take loving, good care of her throughout the hurricane. I felt good with this story. I sent loving energy to the dog and the men. Is this the truth? Who knows? Who cares? There are many other stories I could have chosen to believe, for they are all just stories – each as “true” as the other. What I do know is that it is the truth that I choose.

And isn’t that the way it is in our lives in general? Everything that happens, we make up a story. Most times it is the story that affects us, not the actual facts. We are in effect getting into highly emotional states about things that are not even true – they are simply our perceptions, assumptions and interpretations. It is good to stop and observe ourselves. When we find ourselves in a good state, chances are we have made up a good story. When we find ourselves unbalanced and emotionally out of sorts, then we know that our story is not a good one for us. Whichever it is, we must recognise that every situation is a story made up by us – unless of course, we really truly are in the present moment. For in the present moment, there are no stories – just being.