A Story a day

The nights have well and truly drawn in, Orion rides across the sky, and the air is cold. Winter approacheth! I love Winter, living as we do in the “middle of nowhere” (according to my Mom!) we get snowed in and really appreciate the heat of the multi-fuel Rayburn, the intense glow of the hearth fire, and from such places, new ideas are born.

things 025At least, that’s what happened last Winter Solstice.  I decided that my inner story library shelves were seriously empty. So I set out on that cold Solstice eve, to find stories that I had longed to hear. Tales that were in every fairy tale book, yet never read to me as a child (all together now – ah) I needed to fill my head with tales. Not necessarily to tell them, but just to know them. So, clad in Iron shoes as seems to be the footwear for such intrepid journeys, (OK so they’re very comfy red clarks) off I went!

I found good ones, bad ones, scary ones, silly ones, brilliant ones and thought provoking ones.  I even read some twice by mistake and some days I would read a few, just to find the right one.

As I type, I am on Day Three Hundred and Twenty Two, with a couple of days missed for one reason or another, 365 days will take me beyond the Solstice to the time of returning light, (about 29th December) The journey has taken me through many genres, books, websites and Storytelling spaces. Earlier this week, when coming to the end of a fabulous book “Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales” I found myself heaving a great sigh and said (along the lines of the Lady of Shalott) “I am half sick of stories”.

But that’s not exactly true.  I was craving a stonking good yarn, a fabulous tale, an amazing story. My appetite could not be satisfied from the pages of a book, no matter how well it was written or what stories were contained within it.

DSCF1248I realised, as I travelled this journey, that the some of the most uplifting and emotionally moving stories have been told. I have heard them, with my own ears. At Festivals and story clubs, in tents, around fires, in pubs, libraries, a town hall, an arts centre, and a castle hall. These have fed my hunger for stories. My plate has been full and the belly satisfied.

So as I head to the Solstice and beyond, I remember the tellers of these tales, and revisit them via You tube, and excitedly at local events, hearing tales from them that I have not yet heard.

Some words to describe how I feel came to mind

“to hear a story it has to be told, to learn a story you need to tell it”

Honour to the tales and to their telling!

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