The Stories We Tell

 I was reading a nice little romance story yesterday and then the hero died. 
That is not what I wanted while seeking inside entertainment on a winter's day. Are our tales written for expressing the realistic lives we have or are they for escape, for the hopeful and energetic adventures of our dreams? It is a mix, I imagine, and we can choose to look and discover. Rewrite!

Wishing that Life's literature would model more than conflict/triumph extremes has not changed the parimeters we accept as human reality much. The stars are moving in their own resonance and dissonance it seems. The sun is sending out bursts of fire warming us and also disrupting our networks at times. The Earth has its very real tension and eruptions. Beauty and light, yes, of course, are always available as well.

Are we essentially safe inside our little bodies, our small shelters, our local communities if we can write a safe hero's tale for ourselves and let it come forth? I wanted the hero to get a long romantic life. I wanted the child left and the abandoned lover to fill his living. 

I am figuring out some new understanding of how we create and experience what we do and who the heck is really in charge. 

We see through the focus of being human and whatever else there is in us that is of the great Unknown. Are rabbits feeling ok today? Can 'pets' appreciate our obsession with our 'owning' them? Does rust really have to eat my car? Can we walk alongside each other in fellowship and ease the abandonment, disillusion, doubt, fear, power trips we are addicted to? Lots of people have lived exhilarating realities! 

Go middle road neutrality, then onward toward really very fine! 

Let's try to change the story.