I've always been captivated by a well-crafted story. Whether it's a gripping mystery that keeps me guessing until the final page, a romance that makes my heart flutter, or a fantasy that transports me to worlds beyond imagination—stories have the power to enchant and transform us.
When I’m immersed in a compelling narrative, the characters linger in my consciousness long after I've finished reading.
Their journeys, struggles, and triumphs become touchstones that expand my understanding of human nature and possibility.
They color how I see the world, enriching my perspective in countless ways.
Stories are profound gifts.
But I don't want my life to be a "good story."
And when you understand why, you might discover that you don't either.
The Revelation of Conflict
Years ago, when I began writing fiction, I eagerly shared my early attempts with writing groups, seeking their guidance. The feedback was consistent: "Your writing is warm and uplifting, but it's not a story—there's no conflict."
Conflict. Of course. Any student of storytelling knows this fundamental principle: without conflict, there is no story. Yet there I was, unconsciously creating fiction that lacked this essential element.
This realization illuminated something profound about my worldview.
My nonfiction understanding of Reality—with a capital R—centers on harmony, grace, and the absence of conflict.
I was instinctively writing fiction that mirrored this spiritual understanding rather than following the narrative requirements of storytelling.
After some soul-searching (or perhaps, ironically, some "internal conflict"), I made two decisions:
I would approach fiction with the understanding that conflict is necessary for the art form, and it is essential to acknowledge that conflict is part of the human condition.
I would stop viewing my actual life through the narrative lens—with its required conflicts, obstacles, and dramatic tensions.
The Cost of Living Your "Story"
I used to describe my life as "a good soap opera" —Wearing this label almost as a badge of honor.
Now, I recognize how fundamentally uncomfortable that existence was.
While dramatic episodes might make engaging anecdotes at dinner parties, they're exhausting and disharmonious to live through.
I've surrendered the belief that a dramatic life is a fulfilling one.
Now, I recognize conflict more quickly, feel its discord more acutely, and move more swiftly to dissolve it with spiritual understanding.
The remarkable truth is that we can rewrite—or better yet, release entirely—the narratives we've constructed about ourselves and our lives.
The Divine Screenplay Has No Antagonist
As we embrace the understanding that everything we witness is an expression of the Divine Mind in action and that grace is the natural activity of Spirit, we begin to see that conflict cannot be a quality of an all-loving Intelligence that governs the universe.
In the highest Reality, all things move in perfect harmony.
We who are living the human experience have inherited a script that suggests otherwise.
Perhaps our collective fascination with conflict and drama is what manifests much of the discord we witness in the world as egos clash and power struggles unfold.
Yet conflict will ultimately prove powerless and unreal when we willingly release our attachment to our personal narratives—beginning with the seemingly small stories we believe constitute our identities.
Practical Steps to Move Beyond Your Narrative
Like any meaningful change, this takes practice. Here are tangible ways to begin:
Notice the stories you tell yourself and others.
Pay attention to how often you frame your experiences in terms of challenges, obstacles, and conflicts. Just becoming aware of this pattern is transformative.
Question your role.
When conflict appears in your experience, ask yourself: "Which character am I playing in this drama? Is this my authentic self, or a role I've unconsciously adopted?"
Recognize your authorship.
Remember that you can stop telling a conflict-laden story at any moment. You can let it go, rewrite it, choose a different character to play or respond differently to the other "characters" in your narrative.
Feel the contrast.
Notice how uncomfortable it feels to be in conflict when you're caught in an ego-driven narrative versus the peace you experience when you release the story entirely.
Practice present awareness.
The present moment contains no narrative—it simply is. Regular meditation or mindfulness practice can help you develop the habit of dropping your story and returning to now.
The ultimate Author of Life is also the Source of harmony, not conflict.
Even if we cannot fully comprehend what a life without narrative conflict might look like, we can imagine it as the experience of "heaven on earth"—a state of being that would bring profound relief and blessing to everyone.
Don't worry that letting go of your life story will leave you with nothing to share.
There will always be stories to tell—we just don't have to identify with them or live within their confining structures.
As Honoré de Balzac wisely noted, "It is as easy to dream a book as it is hard to write one."
Let fiction be fiction—with all its necessary conflicts and resolutions—and let your actual life be storyless, unbound by the narrative constraints that demand tension and struggle.
Every day that I release more of my personal narrative, I discover greater contentment, expanded awareness, and deeper peace.
Beyond the story lies freedom—a boundless field of possibility unconfined by plot requirements or character arcs.
In this open space of non-narrative living, we find ourselves as we truly are. Not characters in a cosmic drama but expressions of harmony in an infinite, loving Reality that knows no conflict.
Here’s a free daily email that will help you notice your story. The Daily Nudge
I loved what you said about how we can rewrite our stories, even change our roles in them.
The other day, my son was studying the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism. One of them said, “Suffering is everywhere.”
It made me think about how much we suffer during conflicts (with others, within ourselves).
Sometimes, it’s not the situation, right? It’s the story we keep telling. Good thing is, we can always edit the script. :)
This is so perfect! Thank you!