As a writer and avid reader I am always looking for the metaphor in situations; what does it really mean? In novels it’s rare that the main character sees what’s really happening. People say one thing and mean another. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, the narrator will tell us what’s happening in the other person’s mind. Reality doesn’t give us the luxury. We have to try and figure it out for ourselves. This is where my overactive, creative mind leads me astray. I try so hard to seek the metaphor that I completely miss the point. I miss the actual WORDS and morph them into something else. I run scenario after scenario around in my mind until I pick the one that fits snugly into the little world I’ve created.
But even in my own novels, while there may be twists and turns, the truth comes out in the end. The truth eventually sets you straight and everything becomes clear. Even in the world I’d created the truth finally reared its ugly head. I wasn’t completely surprised; deep down I had known all along. No matter how many meanings I swirled around in my mind and no matter how I crafted my own world around them, I knew, I knew in my gut that I was fooling myself. I knew what the true reality was. I just refused to listen to the narrator. Life does give us a narrator; not into the minds of the characters surrounding us perhaps, but into our own mind. It warns us when we are being foolish. It warns us when we need to pay attention. We just need the ability to listen. I ignored those pangs of warning, the grumblings deep within telling me that something wasn’t right. Instead, I chose to soldier blindly on.
According to Merriam-Webster online dictionary:
noun \ˌin-tü-ˈi-shən, -tyü-\
: a natural ability or power that makes it possible to know something without any proof or evidence : a feeling that guides a person to act a certain way without fully understanding why
I think we all know what it means. That little voice in your head…that little feeling in your gut that guides you or warns you that something isn’t right. Hunch. Inkling. I heard it. I just chose to ignore it. But it only prolonged the pain.
Like learning to dance along to the music, I’ve learned the importance of listening to my narrator. Listening to the warning signs bubbling in my existence. I need to get back in touch and feel the rhythmic hums warning me that all is not well. I was stupid, but I wasn’t blind. I chose to close my eyes. But I won’t beat myself up. Like all good characters, I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’ve grown. Every experience is a blessing or a lesson. The only difference is how you perceive it.