I’ve walked by this house dozens of times, but for some reason, yesterday, I noticed the upturned, rusted, old red wagon.
Who owned it? Where are they now? Was it a Christmas gift brought in by Santa? Did it bring delight? Do the wheels still turn? How many children enjoyed it? Why wasn’t it tossed in the trash?
What is its story?
The older I get the more I realize the inherent tragedy of systems and ideologies to dehumanize, remove (or own) the stories, in order to sustain themselves.
I think it’s just the natural path of a system. Without balance they go the way of efficiency and power.
I don’t know what the alternative is. I just know that at this stage of my life, it’s the story “of you” that I love, yearn to hear, prefer to discuss.
Listening to and delighting in your story…well friends, it’s like my way to bring balance to the world…my own little revolution.
“Personal transformation can and does have global effects. As we go, so goes the world, for the world is us. The revolution that will save the world is ultimately a personal one.”