We craft and tell stories because we’ve stood on the uncertain edge between the waking world and our imagination, between enchantment and fear. And we remember other stories that help us build our own stories, scraps of lumber and fragments of narrative we gather together to make stories for ourselves.

Two Folktales

Walking by the Phoenix Photograph by Kenny Louie.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been pondering here about stories that speak from wounded, devastated earth—that come out of a place of suffering together with the world we inhabit.

A Land of Giants

http://thegoldenagesite.blogspot.com/2013/05/n_19.html

Lately, my thoughts on folktale have been turning primarily around questions of space and landscape—the ways in which the places we live and how we treat those spaces shape the stories we tell. We draw our stories from the natural world, just as we perhaps draw our desire to create and imitate nature in our creations from a rarified instinct towards making things.

The Bones Sang

August 20, 2010 --- Dinosaur skeletons in the desert --- Image by © MARK GARLICK/Science Photo Library/Corbis

Every day at 5.30 p.m., just outside the university campus where I live, someone blows up a mountain.