Since the new year has started, I’ve been looking for stuff to write on but effortlessly I’m exactly at the same place where I was. This gives me a nervous breakdown. And then, I thought to sit down at peace and figure out what I WANTED TO WRITE…
My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves. Some of my struggles involve making decisions, while others are a result of the decisions we have made. Some of my struggles result from choices others make that affect my life. I cannot always control everything that happens to me in this life, but I can control how I respond. Many struggles come as problems and pressures that sometimes cause pain. Others come as temptations, trials, and tribulations.
I feel a story is not like a road to follow … it’s more like a house. I go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where I like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And I, the visitor, the reader, is altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. I can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile me. What you ask for from the world is exactly what you’re getting back. You know, I’ve lived by the Law of Attraction for years and I can tell you from experience that it is real and it works whether you recognize it or not ….