Searching Within Our Stories.

The Story Within: Image Source pixabay.com

The Woman closed her book resting her palm on the cover. She traced the words of its title with her fingers as she thought deeply upon all the words written within its pages.

She pondered upon all the books which had been written all over the world. She began to imagine how many words in all the languages around the whole world were held within their pages… Trillions no doubt..

She marvelled at how those words, first were thoughts, each one plucked from the ‘Ether’, ‘the Field’ of intelligence within the consciousness, from within the mind of their creators. Each a story formed in fact or fiction from imagination.

How expertly those authors weaved their stories into the minds of those who read them. Each touching you in ways which left imprints of their stories which could make you either laugh or cry, or form your beliefs as you delved into the archives of historical events.  So often the woman found herself caught up within those stories, she could hear the voices of those characters which were given a life of their own through the skill of the authors who had created them. As she too felt their pain and heartaches, their joys and happiness through words written on a page.

Looking at the closed book she thought upon the journey it had taken her through. But the woman also knew each had their own journey, their own story, not all were written in books, but each story was recorded none the less.

Every chapter of our lives held within the Cosmos, even those long forgotten. Each story telling a different version of ourselves via the different characters we inhabited, all fractals within the same book, held within the Cosmic Library,    imprinted within the conscious memory we held within ‘The Field’ that contains all things..

The woman stood to return the book from the bookshelves, she slotted it back into the space she had taken it from.. So many books!, So many Stories!, The victims and the hero’s, the emotional highs and lows… The thought of all of those stories in that moment overwhelmed her.. How many has she been part of?…. She needed air…

She walked outside, as a cool wind blew her hair from her face as she busied herself refilling the bird feeders with nuts and seeds.  She instantly felt refreshed.

Even the birds had their stories, she watched them now as she retuned inside how they were now squabbling as they jostled for their positions on the feeders.

What was it we all wanted from our Stories?…

Some humans were just like the birds, jostling for their positions, as they climbed their ladders of success, pecking at anything that threatened their territory or position. While others more timid watched and waited for an opportunity to arise, side-stepping the aggressive ones.

Humans were far more complicated than Birds, surely?

She wondered what would stand out most in her own story? One thing she did know, she now understood what words she needed to create which would be written within her own final chapters.

The woman wondered if others knew what they were busy creating within their stories?….

It all began with a thought after all..

Their own endings depended upon what they were concentrating upon.  She hoped they were visualising a Happy Ending!..

Perhaps she had already done too much thinking for today.

How could one ever begin to explain a Quantum World of Metaphysics when so many were squabbling over nuts.

She returned to her bookshelf and plucked out another book…

Another Story, for another Day…