Paper Moon. Paper Dolls. Paper Houses. Paper Towns. When we offer trust, but someone betrays us, the analogy is the crumpled paper. Once smoothed, it’ll never be the same, but it will still exist. We have always known that we are more than what the world sees. We are more than just, paper.
On paper, everything can look perfect. We can talk about how perfect our lives are. We can champion all the wonderful things in our lives or brag about our success stories. We are free to write in the story of how we overcame a great and terrible journey. We can glow the lamplight of a love for how we are so very very important to the world. We can create images that make our lives seem enviable to all our friends, plus a few million strangers.
On paper, we can come to life before testing ourselves in the grittier real world. How marvelous for us to have such tools at our disposal in this digital age of oversharing our glimmered persona. We are offered the brilliant notion that we are the origami at any time we choose to be. We are brilliant points of light, malleable in our crafting, but only if we choose. We may simply lay there in a pile, doing nothing to change our shape or texture. Or, we may become a rare and exotic piece of art. The choice is ours. The work is the same.
In truth, paper is fragile. It’s impersonal, so does not care what the truth of a human life looks like. The impartiality about what is applied to it is stunning in the honesty. It can fly away, melt away or simply tear from the fabric of reality. Paper has two sides. One for the truth as we see it. The other to challenge and curate reality as we wish it to be.
“Memories are their own descendents masquerading as the ancestors of the present.” ~ David Mitchell
Human beings have been documenting our journey through the world since we lived in caves, long before paper was invented. We have crafted artistic wonder throughout history so that we can feel our significance in the short time that we are here. Some of us hope to leave a legacy, so that those who come after us will learn from our mistakes, or awakenings.
Each of us has a blank sheet in front of us with which to write our stories. What would the scrolls of today look like to those who find them in a thousand years from now? Especially if all seven billion and counting added a chapter to the story. We have to remember that each of those chapters would be read with the same reverent importance to our future selves. We would in fact, all matter then. While we believe ourselves to be more or less significant, our descendants would not think of our nuanced existence, but instead, our overall treatment of our culture.
We are what we write. Let’s write a robust life of profound love for our future generations to learn that we all cared passionately about them, as much as ourselves.
Author: Karen Henry, MA, MHC, PhD*c* CRM. Author of Indelible Women. Reiki Master. Owner, Henry Healing. Positive Psychology Practitioner since 2007.
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