Do we define stories, or do they define us? Like us they are complicated and full of light and darkness. Stories may be long or short, but their impact is everlasting.
I am an avid consumer of stories in all forms. My hunger for books has formed into an unhealthy habit of hoarding. My eyes have born the brunt of blue light screens and undulating imagery. My ears clogged with the melody of spoken words and rhythmic beats.
Around the campfire we listened!
Stories define us and give purpose to our experiences. For what is experience that is kept simply to one’s self. Science has recently shown that stories shared with one another form a synchronistic vibration of connectivity.
I listen.
~ anonymous
The universe is made of stories.
I hear the whisper of echoes
When I hear a good story it stays with me, at least until the opportunity to share it occurs. As a society stories have shaped our thinking, our perception of the world. As children, stories were an essential part of our diet along with fruit and veggies. Under the blanket at bedtime, like the campfires of old, was the setting for fables and fairy tales. As we grew older the stories became broader and grounded in tangible events and places.
Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, author