Much of life consists of 'talking story.' The only way to make sense of anything is to frame it within a story.

Life is good when we know our particular, individual story. When we have in mind where we have been, where we want to be and why we are doing what we are doing in order to get there. Life is good when the narrative makes sense--when the unexpected events have been appropriated, the characters fallen into place and the plot, and the infinite of subplots, coalesce into a fragile whole which makes sense, if only to us.

When 'you lose the plot', things can get strange. When the story is rearranged, sliced, forgotten or erased--reflection comes in. Who? What? Why? All these questions--these fundamental questions--come to the front.

The key is finding a story which still makes hope possible. Which sees this little plot we have all been thrown into--sees the characters, the hurt, the chaos, the excruciating depths of breathing, the suffering, the accidents, the uncanny cruelness, the bodies--vulnerable, present, open--and keeps hope at the forefront.

The stories which continue to be stories, but are void of hope--these are the stories which sear our history with cruelty and tragedy.