healing stories
I have often said, and my professional peers have laughed at me, that what we could really use is a witch doctor sometimes, not more pills. I just read Keri Smith's post from Jan 17 on fears. In a daring bit of self-revelation, Keri's story gave me a lovely dose of witch-doctoring.
I used to worry that story telling is a dying art, but perhaps not. As the world changes, story telling has just evolved with it.
Whenever I worry that the logical, scientific, technical straightjacketing of ideas will take over, I remember that chaos will always come through and the ungovernable in the human spirit in all its beauty will maintain anarchy at its best.
Only people with no imagination and daring fear the stories the elders and old witches used to tell. Stories are magic.
During the Christmas season, I heard some beautiful Inuit stories on the radio -- when I have some more time, I'll try to figure out where that was, and if somehow they can still be accessed.
It's a sunny day, I've burned some incence and I'm ready to face a few hours at my paying job.
The house is in an unbelievable state of chaos. I have to thread my way through tunnels made by walls of boxes. Dust everywhere! Where did all that dust come from? And to top it all off, Molly is in heat. I hope I can get together some money soon to have her fixed -- don't want to go through this again!
Leaving the house to go to my paying job will be like running away for a few hours!
I used to worry that story telling is a dying art, but perhaps not. As the world changes, story telling has just evolved with it.
Whenever I worry that the logical, scientific, technical straightjacketing of ideas will take over, I remember that chaos will always come through and the ungovernable in the human spirit in all its beauty will maintain anarchy at its best.
Only people with no imagination and daring fear the stories the elders and old witches used to tell. Stories are magic.
During the Christmas season, I heard some beautiful Inuit stories on the radio -- when I have some more time, I'll try to figure out where that was, and if somehow they can still be accessed.
It's a sunny day, I've burned some incence and I'm ready to face a few hours at my paying job.
The house is in an unbelievable state of chaos. I have to thread my way through tunnels made by walls of boxes. Dust everywhere! Where did all that dust come from? And to top it all off, Molly is in heat. I hope I can get together some money soon to have her fixed -- don't want to go through this again!
Leaving the house to go to my paying job will be like running away for a few hours!
posted by Kati at 1:22 p.m.
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