As we find our­selves embrac­ing the story, we must find our­selves securely lodged in the moment. Instead of the tran­scen­dence of the grand nar­ra­tive, we need to look closely at the numer­ous sto­ries we find our­selves in. If we are caught up in the grand nar­ra­tive of exis­tence, we may become aloof and indif­fer­ent to the rise and fall of the imme­di­ate sto­ries we find our­selves in. We become dis­tant observers in a world that demands our being, doing, and relat­ing. We become good at ana­lyz­ing what was right and wrong; we work all the angles; yet some­thing is miss­ing in all of this. We slowly unlearn how to be, do, and relate in the here and now; there is no one, no thing, no cause, no pas­sion that we put our­selves toward. We lose our abil­ity to respond and protest because we do not wish to act. In all of this, we man­age the sto­ries we find our­selves in and fit them into our ‘greater-story’ par­a­digm. We lose touch with reality.

To fully engage the world around us, I would argue that we need to have sor­row and imag­i­na­tion. These should be our fun­da­men­tal moti­va­tions in our response and protest.

Sor­row has a reac­tive power in that it empow­ers peo­ple to feel again. In some of the sto­ries we find our­selves in, peo­ple have lost the abil­ity to feel and crit­i­cize their present real­ity. Sor­row has a way of bring­ing to the sur­face the inher­ent emo­tion asso­ci­ated with pain and loss. Imag­i­na­tion is a proac­tive power in that it allows peo­ple to dream again. Some­times we are too caught up in the real­i­ties we find our­selves in and can­not believe in an alter­na­tive real­ity, let alone believe it to be pos­si­ble. Imag­i­na­tion has a way of build­ing hope of a bet­ter tomor­row regard­less of the present sit­u­a­tion we find our­selves in. Sor­row and imag­i­na­tion require honesty.

There are too many who do not sor­row; they live in their world of indif­fer­ence and pos­i­tiv­ity; they ignore pain and suf­fer­ing whether it be their own, or it be some­one else. When we do not sor­row, we are not hon­est, and when we are not hon­est we too eas­ily deceive our­selves. There must be room for sor­row in our sto­ries. It makes us human and allows us to align our­selves to a world in need of com­fort and care. We are approach­able when we are able to sor­row with another person.

There are many who do not imag­ine; they are stuck in their present real­ity; either they are sati­ated by their real­ity or they have become numb to the strug­gles and chaos they face daily. Imag­i­na­tion is only pos­si­ble when one under­stands their present real­ity is not their home, but that they are con­stantly mov­ing for­ward in time and space. Imag­i­na­tion allows you to adapt to a chang­ing world. We must always have room for imag­i­na­tion in our sto­ries; if not we get too eas­ily caught up in the pain and suf­fer­ing we encounter in our sto­ries. Imag­i­na­tion allows you to see the impos­si­ble and move towards that reality.

A life with­out sor­row, is a life with­out hon­est emo­tion. A life with­out imag­i­na­tion, is a life with­out a futur­ing hope. Sor­row keeps us grounded while imag­i­na­tion keeps us on our toes. When sor­row and imag­i­na­tion work together, we find our­selves fully embrac­ing the sto­ries we find our­selves in.