Everyday life is a to do list with a latté on the side, ingredients often without a recipe. At the end of the day we ask ourselves, “What is it all about – and why?”
If we can’t find significance, we are left with a series of emotional snapshots. We need to bind them in an album, to thread them like pearls on a coherent string – to create story. At the end of life, our story matters more because we aren’t writing it the way we did when young. We aren’t creating our life and, more than that, our self. Instead, we are looking at the whole book – except the epilogue. That’s when the story emerges, the thread on which the pearls are strung, the album that encloses the pictures.
Life value is not a career, though it is a useful way to mark achievement – or, sadly, failure. We can’t pin it on relationships, because inevitably some will fail. Or certainly we will fall short. If you abstract the highs, then what about the lows, despair and muddle – which is part of being human. How do you make sense?
I think we have to rise above the minutiae. Look from ever higher, like a video that starts at a hair in your head and zooms out eventually to see the universe. You need to rise gently higher till the hurts are microscopic and the vision greater. So that the story is no longer petty, the protagonist not a victim, till you see a greater whole – and you meet your soul.
Defining Yourself: What is Your Life Story? by Steven Crandall – Huffington Post – link