Stories - told and untold

People have stories. Sometimes they fill a person up, occupying every conceivable space within. For some this is a permanent and constant state ( and I ponder that if the story being focused on lies very far in the past this could be an unhealthy state ) For others, I believe , this is more evident at times of personal crisis and change.

All that said, I remember many times over the years when I was so anxious and ready to tell my story to almost anyone. There were times I would then scold myself and wonder why I had shared so much with someone I hardly knew.

Perhaps in the settling of my life ( if life is ever settled) or even hopefully in the maturing of mind and soul over years, I now am able to use more discernment. I have learned the importance of listening ; of simply being present.

Women's retreats have taught me much about really listening and also sharing with a certain discernment and grace. I remember the first time I attended a women's retreat. My life was in transition. I lived with confusion, sorrow and pain. I was so willing to unload my emotional burdens, thinking this emptying and sharing the most healing of activities. Indeed it was healing to be heard.

But over time I have experienced the way in which other women's stories have enriched my life. I understand what an honor it has been to be entrusted with these glimpses into the difficulties and accomplishments of other lives. These have been stories of sadness and heartbreak, illness and loss, of triumph, joy and bravery, of dreams attained or yet to be attained. I have come to see that whatever else I may gain from these wonderful shared encounters, these explorations into spirit, the stories stay with me and are a living part of my reality. They are a connection to the web of life.

Everyday life gives us many opportunities to have these glimpses, often simply by stopping to listen. There comes to mind a time one winter when my sweetie and I were walking on a trail along Shuswap Lake, bordering on the town of Salmon Arm. We encountered a fellow who started to converse with us and to share his story. It was a story of rejection, betrayal ( deportation in fact) of anger yet also of starting over and of hope. It was definitely an intense life changing time for him. We listened and we wished him well. After he went on his way, a thought occured to me. He likely presumed we were a local couple out for a stroll ; an everyday kind of occurance. But this was not the case, this walk a rare opportunity. Ours was the story of a romantic Valentines day rendezvous. We had each travelled several hours from opposite directions to meet at this chosen town. The next day we would take this lakeshore walk again, and make our farewells. We would get into separate vehicles; one heading north and one south, each taking with us our sweet memories in joyful hearts, not to see each other for many weeks.

So, I thought, such a story he had missed, simply by not asking; so full he had been with the details of his life and transitions. I wonder how many magical stories I may have missed, in times when I was so filled up with the goings on of my own life that I didn't think to ask.

Radha