Why I love telling your stories (too)

Some of my best thinking has been done by others.

— Ken Blanchard

They buck me up — your stories. They inspire me to get my dragging buttocks off the ground when I get knocked down.*

There’s no greater teaser to the mystery at the heart of our lives than other people’s experience. Another’s experience cajoles us out of mental complacency. Knowing the experience of another keeps me alert — open — in a could that be possible for me too mode.

Then there are the insights. The people you know are riddled through with insights into life, like worms of a higher order. You just have to ask. And listen. They’ll wriggle their way out.

For example. This seems a simple enough truism, does it not, expressed by Corina Pelloni in a back and forth email Q&A we’re doing:

What I was saying is that I had a spiritual awareness before I was aware of that awareness as spiritual…

To someone else that may be ho hum, to me it was electrifying. Now I am keenly interested in those seminal experiences for which we had no context at the time and perhaps still don’t.

Corina is a slip of a woman, just under thirty-something, though she’s elfin enough to be asked for I.D. every time she orders a drink, I’m sure. Yet she opened my mind to this idea of awareness before understanding . . . . 

* I get up again! (Chumbawumba reference.)

More Corina

More not Corina
The difference between me and the enlightened
Reality creation: Looking for evidence