When we float through life trusting our automatic brain processes, we’re literally unaware of how our story is taking shape. This sort of unintentional and incurious approach to ourselves and to others produces rotten fruit. When we don’t understand our stories, when we have accepted false realities and even false identities, we aren’t really living. We are existing and, most of the time, pretty miserably at that. What we find, usually in times of emotional crisis, is that we aren’t known by anyone, not even ourselves.

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