Story has been part of being human for as long as we can remember. Probably because without it, there would be little memory beyond each individual’s own experience. Stories gave us a collective memory — one that could be passed on. They let us express the way we experience the world, the way we interpret it. To dream of possibilities, to reflect on where we came from and where we might be going. As individuals, as groups, as humanity.
We use stories for learning and for teaching, for entertainment, for going where only stories can take us. I dare to say: without stories, we would not be the humans we are today.
And we continue to create them. Our lives are stories — we may not think of them that way, but look at literature, film, theatre. So much of it is simply human life: condensed, yes. Simplified, often. Idealised, too. But every life is a story. One that each of us creates, entangled with the stories of others in a dance — sometimes a struggle. We don’t know where our story leads, but if we sit down and reflect, we can see where we came from, the path we have taken, the choices we made, the joys as well as the pain. And maybe a sense of where we are going next.
That is at the heart of my love of stories. Not just in the abstract, not just philosophically — but the stories of people we meet. I love learning where someone came from, what shaped them. Learning from them, and with them.
Stories thrive by being told. And by being listened to. So I invite you to listen — and to tell yours.
