I love the story about how I was listening to this friend telling me about how she is gifted that whenever she walks into a room, she could download a series of information of all the people in the room. And I love the story on how I was the one and first person in her life that she could not get a grasp of. I also loved it when she was telling me how difficult it was to read me and that sometimes she would just observe me. I absolutely love the story where she told me there were thoughts that I was enlightened and how there were counter thoughts to support that I wasn’t. And I absolutely loved her story of how she resisted me since she could not connect with me and how she observed again, that other people got along easily with me except her and later, how she saw herself judging me, and how she surrendered her perception about me and then finally saw me as a child inside who needed love, who would accept love and loved like a child. And I loved her story of how she grew in compassion for me which made it easier for her to connect with me. It was such a lovely story.
And how each short story, when unaware, becomes a pretty long story. If we are lucky, it is a sweet love story; if not, it becomes something like a nightmare where resistance, expectations and separation comes in. I was telling my new Turkish friend how stories when kept short and sweet are, well… short, sweet and nice. But when we allow stories to extend to a very, very long story, it gets a little dramatic and a little tough. It is like the end of the story keeps having to prolong itself again and again and then the ‘trying’ comes in. That too, is ok… just that the story then needs a more dramatic ending, which might or might not leave a good taste in the mouth after that.
I was chatting with my beloved sister-in-law earlier about my stories in Istanbul and she found it lovely and could resonate with that since she was one who enjoyed travelling alone before she came back to Malaysia and found thrilling experiences just as I did. It is like melting into every moment, and it was the same as I was sharing with her about Istanbul, just melting into every moment in while chatting with her – whether it was about the past stories of Istanbul, or even the present story (which is now the past) of being with her. And the very moment she stepped out of my home, the storyline has ceased. And then I walked up the stairs, into my little one’s room and read her favourite stories to her, all the time cuddling her, kissing her, smelling her… ah… another sweet, love story… and the moment I switch off the lights, the story ends and begins again, how I walk in the dark to find my way back to her, to hold her hand and wait for her to fall asleep…
The longest story that anyone can have, in my experience, is the story of awakening. After that, it is all really just sweet, short love stories. Even if you were to try to hang on to a story, a perceived favourite story, after a while, it loses taste of itself and then just moves on. I have come to see that there is not really anything called loyalty, but if I have to put the word ‘loyal’ to something, I’d say that it is loyal with flow of nature, with the way things are, as in experiences instead of being stagnated in the past. There is no more waiting, no more longing. Even if there is a sense of missing someone, or something… it is just part of another love story and then it loses itself when it comes back to reality – the love story of what reality is. The only choice we seem to have is when the story starts and when it ends, but that too, is delusional. Because each moment is an arising and also a passing, each moving along with itself. I can’t even say that there is something called the ‘Now’ as to denote a ‘Now’ is to mean that there is a past or a future when there is none. It is like a ceaseless flow of moment to moment, and if you attempt to dispute with it, you just end up being the one who suffers.
So I’d say ‘cheers’ to all stories – the love story of falling in love, the love story of making money, the love story of finding yourself, the love story of being married, the love story of parent and child, the love story of a holiday, the love story of a friendship, the love story of praying, the love story of sharing… anything… and you become your own love story, and that is all there is. <3