stories

"Knowing that we are made up, not of atoms, but of love and stories is also vital. When we die what is left is love in the form of stories"



Love can be such a tangled up thing, the unsaid, the over talked, the misconstrued.

Love can be so trusting, so open, so closed, so fleeting.

Love can just be a part of our cells, a knowing that is so deeply a part of us that we never have to question, sometimes take for granted, treat badly and then when the truth of it is blindingly obvious, we scrabble for its repair.

But all love has a story.

Some of those stories are sad.
Some of them are simple.
Some of them are only revealed after they have passed.
Some of them are so blindingly beautiful that even if they are short they nourish us beyond our days - into the days of our children, and their children...

We all carry stories about love. About how love shaped us, built us up, or carved us out...

It is the way we treat those stories - the compassion with which we recount the stories in our heart, with which we allow our versions of the actions of ourselves and others to change over time - it is this compassion that shapes our lives...

Do we see ourselves as deserving of the kind of love we got?

Do we see ourselves as requiring more? Less?

Because as the wonderful Patty Digh says at the end of it all we are just stories...