Someone who I admire just wrote the following in an email:

But enough with my human-celestial allegory.

Regardless of what the writer meant by it, this remark is profoundly edifying to me. It is a rare and deeply liberating insight to realize that one's story, which the masses in their murderous misery take to be all that will ever exist, is merely a story and that one's real existence lies elsewhere, namely, in silent abidance in the eternally present moment. Further, this story is an allegory --- a symbol, full of meaning.