This week I'm sticking to stories from columns. Some of my favourites over the years. And reflecting on what is permanent, or is anything permanent. Memories are so much like falling leaves.  And I suppose when I read back or listen back on these stories, they give me an exquisite sense of nostalgia, a sense of the past that has dissolved. A sense that life is...... impermanent. And that's a kind of letting go. Every time I say to myself, here is a story of how real the world once was on a particular day, long ago, and yet all that happened and mattered in that moment is gone. it has dissolved. That's for me the nature of stories. They allow us let go. Each telling of a story is a deeper letting go of the past. Tell yourself stories in grief, because it allows the past to dissolve. Tell yourself stories in pain, because it allows the trauma to dissolve. Tell yourself stories because it allows you let go of everything for the sake of living now, in this moment. 

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