We walk the earth carrying our thoughts, a heavy load for a single person. These thoughts become laws. They become a rock-hard truths, stories of stone.
And we may use these stones to step on, to enable us to reach higher – this is a good thing – it’s why we carry them. But the more familiar they feel in our hands, the less likely we are to let go of them, thus, the more dangerous they become.
We get weighed down. We walk in circles.
Have you ever had this happen?
You hold a dear memory. You’ve always told the story the same way; it’s one of your favorites. It’s as real as the air you breathe. And then, one day, you share it with a friend who was there and they say, “That’s not what happened.”
The time of day was wrong. The punchline was different.
Oh dear.
You’re a bit angry, you can’t help it. How could they do that?!
That’s the problem with stones and memories. As much as we don’t want to believe it, they erode with touch, with the friction of use.
We kill our truths with our own hands, by the need to fit them in our pockets.