One of the characters I played on a mud was a keeper of stories for her people, a weaver of the tales of life. A weaver of life itself, as the memories of her people were kept from age to age by these keepers of stories. Even when the People were destroyed, they lived, for their Weaver lived.

So too, stories and memories weave the life of a person. Memories can keep us together, keep us focused, keep us moving toward the future... and can also keep us from being together, focused, or moving at all. Memories can hold both warmth and fear, certainty and fragile broken edges. They can safekeep the past or lock it in place. They can inspire the future or destroy a person's hope of it. All that... balanced on how we hold what we think is true.

So many folk laugh at the thought of the reality of intangibles, yet hold close and dear (oftimes dreadfully dear) this intangible reality that is memory.

So very important it is. And also, so important to hold with care and humor, with enough respect that it can be disrespected, when that is the right way.

To me stories are memories. Made up, sometimes - yes stories can be made up, imagined. But we build images from all of our knowing and what lies unknown inside us. We construct these intangible realities from every thread we have ever held. Every roleplaying character I have played for any amount of time *is me*. Somehow. Even if it is a "me" I did not previously know. And so, too, every story.

So I hold out a bit more of what I am in. Here I will put some stories and thoughts. My past entries have been sparse. We will see what the future of stories is.

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