Where I sit in my office everyday I hear drama. And occasionally I may go home and have my own.

What is it? We like a good story. Even better if our lives are a good story. Fiction reassures us that life possesses a cycle, it reassures us that there is a perfect story. Perhaps we learn to tell our own story better. What is going on? This is me and this is my story.

And what if something doesn’t fit the story? Pain and suffering of the worst kind; a crisis of identity. A change in the that of the I am that, which we proclaim to ourselves and the world around us.

Is this the primary illusion: the drama of our lives? Is liberation the freedom from the story that we are telling ourselves?

I think that’s it. To live in the now takes a crisis of identity, to move from I am that to I am that I am. The missed opportunity results in a new identity, a filling of the vacuum created by the absence. Moving into consciousness results in presence, at peace in emptiness. We impose no drama upon the present. And because we aren’t identified with a story, there is no longer any becoming only being.