What are the stories you tell yourself?

One of the beautiful things we can do when we sit in Circle is to see the stories we are telling ourselves. And when we do this, we can see them for what they are. And we can ask whether they are true and present. Are they stories about the past, about who we were then or about who we wanted to be. Or are they fears and hopes about the future, about what will happen next, and how we will be when that happens.

When I speak in Circle, something that is spinning around in the fog in my mind slows down and becomes clear. And sometimes I see that it isn’t exactly as I thought it was. Instead I see it for what it actually is.

I think we all do this - tell ourselves stories about the world. Humans are probably the only story makers in the world, and we use it to give ourselves meaning, to know how things are, to share what is in our private worlds with those around us. We use stories to share big ideas, and to communicate simple plans. Even the plan about what I will cook for dinner and how that will suit those in my family is a story about the future. Only when the food is actually eaten, does it become reality.

But the most meaningful, and possibly problematic, stories are the ones we tell about who we are and who other people are, or how the world will work out for us.

I look at the political climate around me right now and I tell myself stories about what is going to happen and about those who are apparently in charge. I tell myself stories about how this will affect myself and those I care about. And I don't like what I see or think. These stories might well turn out to be true.

But I also tell myself about my place in this world, about what is possible and not possible for me. And these stories affect the way I act next, the things I say or do.

I can try to tell myself different stories,to fix the story, to change the story. I can tell myself it shouldn't be this way, or I should do this. Or I can try to tell myself that I shouldn't think or feel a certain way - I should be braver, stronger, more positive minded.

But the most powerful thing is to tell the truth of the stories that are in my head and in my heart. When these are given voice then I have a clearer picture of what is affecting the way I think and act right now.

So right now, I look at the political climate and I feel frightened. I tell myself stories of catastrophe and terror. But then I look in the garden and I see new growth and potential. I want to turn towards this, I think I should be able to enjoy the sunshine and ignore the horror, but the grief feels hard and heavy in my heart.

When I look closer to home at my children I see potential and development, but I also fear for them and their future and that sits like a punch in the guts, bruised and nauseous.

These dissonances leave me feeling anxious and unsettled.

But when I speak them aloud, allow the fear to be known, and am able to be witnessed, without anyone telling me how I should feel, or trying to fix it, deny it, pretend it should be better, then something shifts. Then I can feel a little lighter. It isn’t that the world is less scary. It isn’t that suddenly everything is coming up roses. But it is true that the stories I’m telling can be seen in a different light, in a greater clarity. It is true that I can hold both things together - the beauty and the fear. And strangely that feels much lighter.

This is why Circle can be so powerful.

In Circle we sit and speak aloud the stories we are holding. The ones that are foggy and unclear. The old ones and the new ones. The ones about who we are. The ones about how the world is. The heavy and the light. And speaking them, without the need to change them let's them all be seen. It lets them all be present. Nothing left out.

And this feels lighter.