The other day I was thinking about stories and how they are such a deep and intimate part of our history. They say who we are as individuals, as a country and as a culture yet to find the truth in them is like a trip into a maze. We all have our own perception of a story based on how we are touched by it, its meaning, its place and how it weaves into our own life. History goes to the winners and they are indeed the one who tell the loudest tale but it is the hidden, quiet words that I want to hear. They will tell me about the bigger picture, the details left unnoticed or unseen.
This picture is of my dear friend, teacher and heart mama, Pinky. Half Cherokee and half Irish she was born the "queen of storytelling." She taught me, through example, the beauty of a good tale. Every time we were together we created some new magic, some new experience. This particular day, we were blending plants into a facial for an itchy skin affliction Pinky had. She was all about the experiment and the mess! If it wasn't messy you were not productive. In fact, if the kitchen was not a total disaster our day was deemed a failure of sorts. There were bowls and pots flying, strange smells of various plants, roots and animal bones. The fouler the smell, Pinky was sure that made it work all that much better as if the repugnant had magical powers. She would work herself into a feverish trance and heaven help anyone who tried to interrupt her! And when she was done, hair a mess, clothes filthy and hands covered in a plaster of unknown goo, she would proudly share her creations with the world most often for free but a little jingle was good too.
For her, it was more about the process then the thing itself. She showed me stories are like that. Its the process that we love, how it is built and formed, the mess we make along the way, the folks we meet and share with and the memories we make. The real beauty of story is that it can last for as long as we tell the tale and when its done, it goes to the memory bank of the world waiting for someone to find a piece of it and start a new story for us to share again.
With love, thanks Pinkster!