The Life Story That the Mind Tells

The conditioned mind loves a good story — one that feels almost true. It’s the “life story.”
You know how it goes. An old friend asks, “So, how’s life?” and we start with something like, “Well, not bad actually,” or even, “Oh, it’s great!” Then follows the list — the house, the business, the beautiful family, the smart kids who do great in school, and so on.

We all have some version of that story.
The only problem is — there are two problems with it.

1. The soul can’t feed on a story.

If the story is all there is — no deeper substance — the soul finds no nourishment in it.
The mind, sure! It craves it and even creates it. It wants the illusion of security, stability, and “wellness.” That’s what the story is about.

But for the soul, such stories are stale and unfulfilling.
In fact, sometimes the soul feels better when the story collapses — when it’s left exposed, naked, and forced to seek connection with something higher, invisible, and true.

Which leads to problem number two.

2. The story always crashes.

No matter how convincing, the mind’s story doesn’t hold up forever.
The beautiful house ages. Finances shrink. The smart, gorgeous kids misbehave.
Sooner or later, the solid walls of that life story begin to crack — or worse, the soul starts feeling a quiet, uninvited duty to keep them standing. The mind demands the story; the soul toils to uphold it.

So what does nourish the soul? What is the food it’s really after?

The Soul Doesn’t Care About Logistics

Wealthy people often hire personal assistants — to book tickets, arrange meetings, handle logistics — so they can focus on what actually matters.

The soul is like that. It doesn’t want to deal with material logistics.
It just wants to love — fully, deeply, without distraction.

Think of a romantic couple.
They’re not sitting there comparing income levels or medical histories. Those curiosities are long past. At that stage, they just want to be in love.

That’s how the soul feels. It just wants to dive in and stay immersed. The rest — all those practicalities — are background noise.

So, What’s the Soul’s Romance?

Philosophically, it’s the love between the soul and the Supersoul — between us and God.
But here words begin to fail, because this is not an intellectual concept. It’s an experience.

Those who sincerely seek it will find abundant resources to guide them. But ultimately, it depends on how much we want it — if at all.

It’s also possible to stay glued to the mind-made life story, trying endlessly to extract fulfillment from it. I hear it works for some people. Sort of. Maybe.

The Story Isn’t the Enemy — Just the Foundation Matters

There’s nothing wrong with having a life story. We all need one.
It just needs a deeper foundation.

Even that romantic couple still needs a little “logistics” — maybe to plan a wedding.
But that effort is guided by, and in service of, their love.

Similarly, if our life story is centered on love of God — bhakti — the soul won’t resist it. It’ll thrive in it. Because then the “story” serves the romance, not the other way around.

When the Story Crashes

As mentioned earlier, the soul often benefits when the story collapses.
We need those crashes, honestly. Without them, the mind is so powerful it would keep us forever trapped in the “logistics.”

One of the oldest spiritual texts, the Bhagavad Gita, describes exactly such a crash — and the transformation that follows.

Arjuna had a perfect life story: son of a demigod, prince, the greatest archer in the world — the works.
And yet, in one moment, all those identities shattered. He was ready to throw it all away and live as a beggar.

Then came his conversation with Krishna.
By the end, Arjuna was spiritually reborn — doubts dissolved, direction regained.

And this new “direction” wasn’t just another story the mind made up.
It was a Krishna-inspired life — where the soul’s love was not just included but central.

Crashes aren’t bad. They’re inevitable.
They’re part of karma — part of life’s design.

What matters is whether we know how to turn them into spiritual growth.
If we do, then even the fall of the story becomes part of the soul’s romance.