One Very Long Story

Every story is one, very long story. Somehow everything fits together, but all of human history, all story, are really just one. I say this because everything is interconnect. Everything is from something else. We share a common history, a history that is connected to the earth on which we abide. From the ancient times to the future that we can only dream of, it is all connected.

If every story is in truth one story. If everything is connected, does that mean that there is no Independence? No freedom? No and yes. That story is like a ribbon split into thousands of colors and textures. This ribbon dances through what is our history. weaving the story, telling tales which foretelling others. The ribbon dances. Sometimes the strands seem independent and heedless of the others. Sometimes the strands gather together and dance together for a time. And at some point the muddled disarray will be gathered back together in a singularity or cast off into blankness.

The story is one we are still a part of, still living and shaping. We dance, sometimes against the music, sometimes along with the crowd. We dance, because we must.

Its hard to move backward. And in our pride we gather ourselves and think our way is the best. We do not hear the music. We do not feel beat. We try making our own music, our own dance. We try, without success, to drowned out that which we can feel in our bones. We yell and scream. We run and shout. We hate and kill. We try to destroy. We just want to be free.

But we were not created to be free of the music. Free of that which we are meant to be a part of. We are a part of the story. Our story is the story, and yet the story is more then who we are. If we were meant for Freedom, we would not be connected to everything around us. And we must move to some kind of music. We are bound to it. And the best music, the best dance, is the one we were made for.