Life stories are the threading together of moments, tracing the crest of events and forces which have pushed us onward. Getting jobs, losing jobs. Loves and deaths. Wars, depressions, booms. So many branching points, so many changes in direction.
We can look back and see that our paths make sense, that they have patterns, that they are part of a narrative. They are stories that ask to be told. We can entertain each other, laugh and cry as we tell these stories or keep them to ourselves.
Listening as people unfold their own narratives is like watching that special tea made out of a small dried flower tied tight, lowered into a glass of hot water. Petal by petal it unfolds, takes up space, blooms, releases its fragrance into the water, becomes itself.