I’m a big fan of creatures who make big mistakes. Someone once wrote that the reasons we have monsters in our stories, is so that we can see the masters inside of ourselves with greater compassion.
As well as telling the story that happens on the outside – for example: “I walked down the street and bumped into Gigi, she asked how I was and I told her I was good.” We can also tell the story of what is happening on the inside: – for example: “I walked down the street and bumped into Gigi, she asked how I was and I told her I was good.
My friends and I grew up in the 1990’s and we didn’t give much thought to why we were doing what we were doing a lot of the time. There were certain things that young adults and eventual adults were supposed to eventually get around to doing: travel, university degrees, buying homes, having families, being successful, being healthy, being wild and free, collecting great art, helping humanity solve its greatest problems, wearing fabulous clothes, being kind to everyone, falling in love and so on and so on.
The truth about what happened to me isn’t even found in my own journal.