In my search for story tellers and the tools to tell story, I find myself seeking out people. Books and interviews. Podcasts and articles. Poetry and quotes.
My seeking has made me curious. And this curiosity has merely been fed by the bites of discovery I have found.
Every day I post about SG and each time I meet someone and they ask me about SG, I reach for words to tell what it is we are trying to do here.
So much of it feels like magic, like mystery, words can fall short.
However, recently, I heard this line: Stories that illuminate the human condition.
I just loved it. And resonated with it. Each gathering feels like taking a flashlight and aiming it into a room that has been shrouded in shadow. We bump against furniture long covered with dust sheets. We exclaim at the bay window, with a seat for afternoon naps. We find room for more. We discover spaces inside we never knew we had. Fields for planting.
The glory is this happens in our story teller and in ourselves, the listeners.
Vast, wide, open space. For becoming. For all the becoming we still have to do.