I am struck by the line I see between two kinds of stories. On one side of the line are the stories of love. On the other, the stories of fear. Interwoven, they are the fabric of our collective humanity, and they influence us in profound ways.
Everything is storytelling, and the way we shape our world is through telling each other stories. Each story leaves a mark on our souls, however tiny. Some stories resonate deeply and change our lives. Some stories we forget, and some we only forget for a while. And through us, each story changes the world.
All stories shape what lies ahead. Stories of the past imbue us with wisdom from which to draw when moving forward. Stories of the future allow us to contemplate the possibilities and form an intention. Every story adds a bit more to our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. And through us, each story changes the world.
Some stories seem simple and clear, and some appear deeply confusing. Some are so contradictory to what we currently believe that we drop them like we touched something hot. Some are so close to our hearts that we don’t even need to hear them to the end. As we hear stories, we collect them, create our own, and share them with others. And through us, each story changes the world.
When told, stories open our horizons. Some stories give us a chance to imagine a future that is better than the story we currently see as reality. These are the stories of love. Stories of love create this beautiful tension between where we are and what could be. They help us see where to go, pointing toward a destination. And through us, each story changes the world.
Yet other stories give us a glimpse of the future that we can’t bear to see happen. These are the stories of fear. These stories focus us on what we want to prevent, a prospect so undesirable that it warrants doing something about it. They point away from a destination, rather than toward it. And through us, each story changes the world.
Directionless, the stories of fear are unfinished, not having a destination in themselves. They beg for a simple, clear story as a conclusion, a story that neatly replaces the path away with the path toward something. They beg for a story of love to complete them. So it often happens that beneath of a story of love lurks a story of fear. We need the simpler story of love because it helps us explain how the story of fear affects us. And through us, each story changes the world.
It’s possible that these fear-driven stories of love point at the destinations that are genuinely inspiring. But because we only need these stories of love to help us feel better about our fears, it is unlikely. More often than not, these stories of love are a means to an end, an illusion to explain away the uncomfortable story of the fear underneath. And through us, each story changes the world.
As I look at the stories that drive me, I wonder how many of them are the stories of fear and how many are the stories of love. I wonder how many of them are the stories of love that I created to complete my stories of fear. How many of them will take me toward something inspiring. And how I could reframe my stories of fear to be truly the stories of love. Because through us, each story changes the world.