I have been looking at the kinds of stories I gravitate towards, and the things i have thought about in relation to men. I also am looking at what I am here, and what I was in relation to my sisters.
The types of stories I like are such as written by Emily Bronte, Jane Austin, and fantasy stories, the chapter books of fantasy stories for children. IN all these stories there are worries about losing position, money, place in society. In all these stories someone is rescued, usually by how, in sticking to principles, the person is rescued and often there is a lot of serendipitous events that save the heroine in the end.
All these stories are that of the Cinderella story. Loss of place, gracious acceptance of place and then salvation.
IN may ways this is me. And as I realize that I am often in my mind projecting a desired outcome, that covers as many variables as taught to me by the morality of my parents, I am like Cinderella, who has the witch/fairy god mother come and manifest the carriage and the horses and the shoes and the dress. Did Cinderella secretly dream of such an event? Is this why this entered her world, through the force of her imaginings?
I am aware how extensively I dream, it is so common place I didn’t really notice that this was what I was doing. To disgustingly justify, I was taught by a mother that would cry when she entered a house she deemed “tasteful”, so the activity of judging the “taste” expressed in the decor of a home is what I learned. I had always considered this as how one gaged a person’s cultural understanding. It is also difficult to walk away from when one of my mother’s students actually won the equivalent of the nobel prize for illustration in this country. Like Cinderella probably was in her secret mind, I am a walking judge of what is “best” within the hierarchy of the web of culture that is our society.
Here, I am a widow. I have now had two men offer to take care of me. Both are financially sound and I suppose I am a fool to have stopped this. And the thought that maybe I am waiting for something better is there, but my awareness of not wanting to be what Cinderella had to take on as the role of a princess is here.
What also makes me believe that this is the “movie” of my self is how the people around me treat me. Since I came to the Cape, my mother’s wealthy friends have aided me in some ways. Since these are people that tend to redecorate I end up being offered what they have that is in very good condition. I have acquired some of my furniture this way. Some have even tried to introduce me to some “nice” men.
I even recently, received a wood stove.
My mother has even justified my own actions by the “tragic” death of my husband.
So, I am like Cinderella and all the heroines of the types of stories I like, or tend to gravitate towards.
I dream of a magical future outcome.
I accept my circumstance without much complaint.
I secretly want to be saved financially.
These are the things my mind presents to me, as I take this overview of my self as my mind.
If I think about physically being here I realize that I do not really want any of these things. The “pretend” is not satisfying and it does not explain why someone would hang themselves, or why a well dressed young man would appear on a bench in New York City one day and never leave, where day by day he begins to look like all the other men that have decided to exist as a bum on a street bench.
In the enfolding story of my life, I watched the fringes of my story and noticed things that somehow did not fit into the fairy tale. And once my attention had been caught I could not stop. And it is interesting to realize that my questions about what I could see on the fringes were met with irritation. I cannot be afraid to stand up through the confusion. The confusion being the friction between what I see on the fringes and what is being told to me is necessary to remain within my story, my “movie”.
I am not a story, I am life.
I am not a role, or a personality, especially one that does not consider what is cast onto the fringes of my own accepted drama.
My story, does not encompass all that is here, this desire as a moving image of a sequence of events of what it proper and best according to some profitable outcome as determined by a system.
So, I must accept where I am here, and move forward to include what has been cast away, and eliminate an outcome of profit for a few.