suns, stars & stories

From my earliest years to her last ones, Mom took special delight in singing a silly children's ditty ~ Tell me a story! Tell me a story! Tell me a story - you told me that you would! Tell me about the birds & bees, how to make a chicken sneeze. Tell me a story, you promised that you would!

One of the great truths revealed to me in this, my 60th year, is that - in spite of their apparent substance - our bodies are mere appearance. And our spirit is what is most real about us, but can't be experienced on this plane of existence. Which leaves us with what DOES define us, what makes us who we are, what changes with every moment of every day, from our first breath to our last - our stories. We are the sum total of our stories. And since they are forever changing, so are we.

Sure, it looks & feels like we're made up of stuff; it feels like we have a brain that's inside our head & outside our being, at the same time; and spiritual types are assuring that we have a greater reality than the mere physical.

I have no idea what's what with probably 1/1,000,000,000,000,000th of what actually is, but I do know, as I ease out of my 50s, that what makes me ME at this moment in time are my stories. And I'm going to write a book about that - Sneezing Chickens. I promised that I would.