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It’s easy to tell stories.

They are of the stuff that moves around in corners and recesses of our inner world. Shadows and phantoms or flickers of light and pleasant feelings. Try to catch them and they vanish. But let them move and they come to life.

We tell stories about where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Often with injections of excitement to spice it up; the words that find us leave out the inherent sparkle of the experience as it was, in the moment, fully alive. The bright flickers of light manifest.

We tell stories of how we feel. To ourselves or to others and rarely with clean accuracy unless we practice and perfect the skill of accuracy. These are the shadows-felt that come to life when you don’t look directly at them. They slink until we’re not looking and move into the foreground. Realness is a convincing feeling and suddenly we’re reliving an alternate reality. One that is neither helpful or accurate.

We tell stories of others. This is a mixed bag of sparkling shadows or brightly felt phantoms. They appear like hallucinations and dissolve into space as we watch. What is real becomes inconsequential as expectations and projections layer together like baklava.
And there are others.

The art of story telling is rich and diverse as the iris patterns of the humans weaving them without realization into the virtual space between selves where our relationships live. They can embolden us to great feats of historic strength or corrupt the most cherished feelings. They can move us to change the course of our own destiny or the destinies of others.

The art of telling a good story is to feel the difference. To caress the subtlety of that expression for the greatest benefit of the loved ones listening. To care for the hearts of the characters as we would our own and know that nothing moves through humanity without making ripples.

Not even the smallest tales.

Inside of you is a story. Something threaded with the amazing achievements of your life. A story that is your own, unclaimed by anyone else. It is not a retelling. It is not a social iteration. It is not recycled excitement bursting from your seems. No. This story is deeper.

It is down in the recesses of what makes you unequivocally you.
It is within the architectural foundations of the self that you now occupy.
It is nestled in comfortably by your heart, such that to tell this story is to speak of something you cannot not speak of and which tugs at the fabric of why you are here.

This story will have the power to move mountains, but first, it will move people. It will be the shining of your light so bright that no witness can leave untouched. They will forever be effected by the moments they gave to the unfolding of this story.

And you will be touched having shared.

Not because it creates for you something material or moves an agenda one step further, but because this story is connected to your soul.

This story is felt first, known second.
This story is energizing and powerful.
This story won’t abide dishonesty.|
This story cannot be made any brighter.

It does not require embellishment because it comes complete.

The mission of s story telling is to find this thread,

And follow it until not a word more can come.
This will take no less than a lifetime.
And we are all story tellers.

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