Life without stories

Soo interesting to see that the person
we think we are is only held up by all 
the stories we keep telling ourselves.

I am so and so,  have such a character,  these habits
my likes and dislikes,  inclinations, my past, 
my history,  my trauma's,  my goals and future dreams etc etc.

And we keep the stories alive by:
believing them,  
telling them to others,
regurgitating them over and over again  ( repetitive thoughts )

So basically what we do, 
by believing all the stories, 
we construct the little robot, 
the person, the me.
( see the amazing creative power of consciousness at work )


So what happens when we stop believing the stories,
and stop telling them to others,
and see that the repetetive thoughts 
are just another stream of thoughts 
which do not have any reality beyond 
the value we give them???



What remains without stories? 

Aren't you curious....?


And who wants to know?