Winter is a time for story.  In the way of the people before us the stories were brought out during the winter by the Elders.  They told of the days gone past and shared the wisdom of their ancestors. The also shared the wisdom they gained on their own journeys through full lives.  Retelling deeds is something all human beings do.  It is in our genetic makeup.  We learn by listening, doing, recalling, and retelling.  It is an important time to be alive as we step away from a culture that worships adolescents as king and queen just long enough to reclaim these gifts from elders we may have never met.  The stories, however, continue.  They touch us from a place beyond the limits of our finite lives, handed down by the generations in song, dram, the written word, and now the screens in our homes.  Sometimes it is hard to find the inspired stories.  They can be hidden amongst the sea of noise that has become our visual landscape of increased volume during the sponsors messages and once inspired stories that have been gutted and replaced by what others assume the masses want to hear.  Inspired story comes up from deep within.  It’s source is the creative force of the Universe, and the results are always profound.  The only folks who miss it are the ones not yet ready.  That is why oral tradition includes repetition.  Sometimes you have to hear the story a few times to finally hear it.  Sometimes a few more life experiences have to collect under the nails before the words reach that space that lights up when you really understand something.  Do you want to measure the true worth and value of how you are investing your life?  What kind of stories do you have at the end of each day?  Also, and equally as important, what stories do you look forward to every morning?  It takes discipline and work to manifest exciting story each day.  Convenience kills a life that would otherwise express a vibrant story line.  But every time I have fought to get off the couch or the chair and compelled myself out in to the rain or cold, or uncertainty I have never been disappointed.  There is no greater joy than recounting the days events, or the years, or the life time, or the events of the people spanning generations.  I believe it is because we are supposed to live lives worthy of retelling.  To do otherwise might disappoint the ancestors, but wouldn’t you be disappointed too?  So here is to winter, the elders, the wisdom, and the stories we gather to add to the mix