Monday, 2 November 2015

On Narrating One's Own Life

I spend a lot of time consuming various forms of creative content. Books, movies, podcasts, tv shows, youtube videos, blogs, random articles whose links are littered across my facebook feed. To name a few.

And it results in some interesting behaviours and observations.

For one, this constant escapism makes my life seem so stark in contrast. So boring and yet so unbearably full all at the same time. A life that is made up of a  seemingly mundane daily routine, within which infinite complexities are contained. Because of course they contain me and other real life humans. 

Another tendency arising from my steady consumption is my habitual and constant mental narration of my own life.
Now I know you may be thinking, well of course we're all stuck in our own heads, forced to forever be prisoners of our own consciousness... But this is different.
It's more... Everyday as I'm living moment to moment I'm narrating my life in what could be snappy tweets or thought provoking facebook statuses.
Like a Kardashian or cast member of Modern Family. 

It takes me out of the moment and makes more an observer or it or someone who is reflecting back on it rather than living it. 

It's disconcerting. To say the least.


I will breathe. I will notice my in breath then my out breath. And my stomach rising and falling. And I will once again recognise that I am in that moment and will never again be in this particular moment. And acknowledge that life is constructed from moments, one after the other after other. And engage in all the silmultaneous complexities and simplicites of each moment.

Well, I'll try.

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