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Far back as I can remember, I loved to hear a story. From the times my mother would make the boogeyman go away by telling me about a beautiful princess, to the later years of my life where the love of coloring a page with words grew, and to this day, holds me totally captive.
Those of us that have a tale to tell, putting words in cadence, can soothe us, shoo the dragons away, excite us, or even the opposite of all the above. Emotions are woven like golden threads through voices magically taking us to places where we can make squirrels smile, horses whisper and colts laugh with each other as they dance over the hillsides where they play.
The apparent randomness of events that we create through story is rich in return. Given half a chance, the ability to travel to faraway places has such enormous potential to empower us to become masters of our own fate. Words can compose an orderly existence out of our sometimes disorderly life. Words can burn long and steady and remain glowing like hidden jewels in the depths of our soul. Our words make sacred gestures that find our unique selves. We can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything with boundless abandon.
Words are savored by rich desserts. They can make you, break you, make you laugh, make you cry, make you young or old. They can create a soul map; you can be a continent, an island, or a whole world. Deals are made and fates are sealed on just a few words: "Let's shake on that", or "My word is my bond." And, no one can dispute what we evoke by saying just the few simple words, "God bless america."
Just by the simple acts of telling, accepting and reflecting, we are forever changed and inadvertently, if luck be on our side, find out who we really are.
And finally, reading about the age-old wonderful story of conquering our fears, finding our true self and coming home, as we relate to that infamous character in The Wizard of Oz, the perennial wicked old witch. "Ding, dong, the witch is dead, the witch is dead, the wicked old witch is dead." Now, talk about destiny; the munchkins will never be the same.
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