I’ve been thinking about stories lately.
We all have them, right?
The stories that make us who we are, mold us, shape us, sharpen us, & cause us to breathe in empathy, compassion, kindness.
Stories that interweave within our roots, our blood.
Stories that make us strong, powerful.
E M P O W E R E D. Aware. Educated. Amazing.
Our stories transform the universe into something unimaginably better, immeasurably enhanced.
Sometimes our stories include rape, domestic violence, cancer, oppression, murder, physical disabilities, discrimination, disfigurement, disconnectedness.
Sometimes we don’t want our stories –because they hurt like double hell, but regardless, they become part of us.
Yes, our stories can change the very fabric of our civilization.
Think of Malala, Mandela, Anne Frank, Helen Keller, Angelou, Adhiambo, Rosa Parks, Oprah Winfrey, Hawking, Elie Wiesel.
Their stories made history. Their pain changed lives.
But how about the reverse?
What about when our stories create intolerance, cruelty, maliciousness, indifference.
What about when our stories become ugly Monsters.
“She’s uncaring because she has a story. He shot her 3 times because he had a awful childhood. She’s insensitive because she’s been thru hell.
I’ve heard these words too often recently.