Stories

I met him returning from work, I followed him across the river and a bit further.
I watched his walking journey in old shoes, with an umbrella and a wooden box.
And a bag.

Bag '' Stories '' ( the english meaning of polish inscription on the bag )

Today, this picture returned to me, the photo of him I took appeared in my mind during the afternoon washing - somewhere between the mug and the plate.

Stories - this gentleman carried them on his shoulder exactly as we carry them in our heads.

They have already been offered to us in our youngest years. We got fairy tales and beliefs, patterns and prejudices. Often givn from concern, good intentions and for protection. More often from fear and somebody's infirmity.
We went to school and learned more - rights, history, patterns. We have learned someone's knowledge , we took for granted everything we have been told.
We started meeting people - with all their stories. From now on, we share ours with them and they discuss theirs. We study our visions and ways of looking at the world. We inspire others, they inspire us and so we 'enrich' ourselves with successive pages of stories - cool and bright, giving faith and confidence and those heavier, weakening our inner sense of power and joy of life.

Each of us carries his own story, which we write with '' help '' of others.

Have you ever wondered how uncertainty, prejudice and destructive beliefs of others are inside you?