If a story is a seed, then we are its soil. Just hearing the story allows us to experience it as though we ourselves were the heroine who either falters or wins in the end. If we hear a story about a wolf, then afterward we rove about and know like a wolf for a time. If we hear a story about a dove finding her young at last, then for a time after, something moves behind our own feathered breasts. If it be a story of wresting the sacred pearl from beneath the claw of the ninth dragon, we feel exhausted afterward, and satisfied. In a very real way, we are imprinted with knowing just listening to the tale. -Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Global street art, yes! JR won this year’s TED prize. Find out how to share the word (image) at the end, or at insideoutproject.net.
A leaf was riven from a tree,
“I mean to fall to earth,” said he.
The west wind, rising, made him veer.
“Eastward,” said he, “I now shall steer.”
The east wind rose with greater force.
Said he: “’T’were wise to change my course.”
With equal power they contend.
He said: “My judgement I suspend.”
Down died the winds; the leaf, elate,
Cried: “I’ve decided to fall straight.”
Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary (1911)