The Other Side of the Story




“I used to be ashamed of my perceived eccentricities so I modified my behaviour accordingly in an attempt to appear normal. This galvanised my shame, it was making me a better person yet there was so much more work to be done for I was not good enough and it truly believed it could make me a perfect example of a human being. Its control over me grew and grew, critiquing every move, word and thought I had until I could no longer do, say or think anything. My awkwardness was total. My behaviour erratic. I ran away from other people for fear that they would see how weird I was. Thus my shame became my greatest eccentricity.”

I wrote the words above a couple of years ago. The context – why I wrote them, what prompted the words, what I wrote them for, etc, – does not really matter. There is a long story behind those words which led up to them being expressed in word form. There is a story about why they were expressed when they were expressed. There is a story which came afterwards. And there is a story now. Are they the same story being told over and over again, or are they different stories using the same words.

What those words mean to me now, did they mean that to me when I wrote them.

What do they mean to you? Do they mean anything or nothing at all? If they having meaning for you… Would they have meant the same to you several years ago as they do now?

The stories we tell sometimes resonate with others. However what resonates is not always the story which we are telling as much as the story which is being lived, has been lived, by those who read or hear our story.

Others, when they hear our story, do not necessarily hear the story that we are telling.

Sometimes they hear the story which they are telling with our words – our words act as a mirror which reflects themselves back at them and that’s what they see. We’re an echo of their own voice.

Sometimes they hear what we are saying, but our words do not really tell our story and so what they hear is not what we think we are saying. Our words are an echo of a cry across a great expanse. A Chinese whisper. A ray of light hitting a prism. The story we are telling is not the story we are living, but we may be trapped in the mirror of our words – such as when we say we hate something, we believe we hate it, but we only hate it because it represents something which we desire but can’t have, we hate it for not being ours. But if we could have it, our story would change. Flip around. No longer be a reflection but that which is being reflected.

Sometimes our story is exactly the one we’re telling and the one being heard. However each individual story is a tapestry of other stories and they may or not not be exactly what they are.

Our stories can’t always be told in words.



Alonely by MoonVooDoo



Our stories are sometimes told in images, in gestures, in music, in a multitude of forms of expression, ones which spring from us and those which spring from others who become our voices when we can’t speak.

Our stories can’t always be told by any means.

Yet… they are still telling themselves to us, even if we can’t tell them to anyone else.

And what is the purpose of these stories, the ones told, the ones untold? Why do stories exist, within and without?

Are they an element, and elemental force, another mystery which is a part of the greater mystery of life, here, there, into infinity and beyond.

Or are they just what they are?

We all have those moments when we wish we hadn’t said, shared, told someone else, something, a story which perhaps revealed too much about ourselves, the selves we don’t want revealed yet do want to reveal… just not there, then, that way. We wish we had powers of delete in those moments of regret, to alter the past just a little bit, not enough to cause a space-time continuum rift or any other mess which would make our small mistake pale in comparison. Just get rid of that tiny blemish on our otherwise perfect record… but if we can clean up one thing by deleting a small something, well, that’s probably the beginning of a whole new story.

What would remain if all stories disappeared?



DreamsOfMyInnerOcean by MoonVooDoo


10 thoughts on “The Other Side of the Story

  1. We need stories because stories create, I think and feel and believe. A quote: “If the world is made of stories, stories are not just stories. They teach us what is real, what is valuable, and what is possible. Without stories there is no way to engage with the world because there is no world, and no one to engage with it because there is no self.” -David R. Loy Reading your “The Other Side Of The Story” felt almost like my pondering and brooding about stories early this morning, and how dimensional and layered stories are… for each of us… our stories. Why do we hide or stories or shame them? I truly enjoyed reading this and nodded my head along. And that is gorgeous big art of yours… wowzers!


    1. Thank you very much 🙂

      You’re right, stories are creative, they create realities.

      The quote is very interesting and true. I think the opposite is also true, as stories also mislead us about truth, value, and possibility. As everything which is creative has many different sides to its creativity. Stories also separate us, destroy worlds, and negate the self. Sometimes a story destroys one world to create another, destroys one person to build up another.

      It’s an intriguing path of contemplation. What if all our stories about ourselves vanished and we had to start over? Who would we be, how would we view others?

      Glad to see that your own story has led you back to WP, welcome back 🙂


      1. Thank you for the welcome back. It is good to be back in the flow again. I like and resonate with what you said about the opposite is true as there are two sides to a coin, so to speak. Yes, stories create and destroy. Interesting to really ponder this. I deem words and storytelling as shapeshifters. Well, for all our stories about ourselves to vanish and to start over? My, that is a challenge as it would be a void. Some stories I have read have been about such or near as possible with people starting over in their lives recreating them and those who lose their memories. I was kind of pondering this when watching the last video by Glen Campbell “I’m Not Gonna Miss You.” At age 78, he has Alzheimer’s and now resides in a long term care facility. I thought about writing something in this area because I have a loved one who has Alzheimer’s. Stories… 🙂


  2. Perhaps the true beauty of what is is what would remain if all stories disappeared… Might be a little boring though to live a life with no story or not expressing that story. Nice post… 🙂


    1. Thank you very much 🙂

      It is interesting to wonder what we would do or see, or who we would be, without certain stories.

      I think the closest people can come to having no stories is amnesia, but that is a story in and of itself which usually urges the storyless to find their lost stories, and that search creates new stories, sometimes new ones out of old ones because we get to look at ourselves from the outside in for a change.

      When the storyteller is silent, you do get a sense of the beauty of what is. I guess the challenge is to also see it when the story is in full flow.


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