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| Tuesday, September 26, 2006


So I am my own subject. And I thought it was you. I tried to make myself believe that what I did was a service, and it is service, but that service is to me. If the service is to God, then it’s because God lives somewhere in me.
I think, often, that I always tell the same story, and it is my story. Again and again. As I change the story changes. As I grow so does the memory. And I have the right and the pleasure to make my own truth. How strange that in the admittance that I make my own truth I come closer to telling something authentic than if I claimed to tell, without embellishment THE TRUTH.
And what if I could remake the truth? And through it redeem my life?
And what if in my life was the whole world?
What if I transformed myself into something new, only by telling my story as honestly as I could?
And look, what if inside of me, in my body, was every body?

posted by Chris

at 10:47 PM Permalink