We live in a moment in history in which truth is only found in this fairly new thing we reinvented called a ‘fact.’ “This is a table,” we say. It is a fact that the thing I just set my cup on is a “table.” Ta-da! End of story… It is an idea that seems pretty hard to argue with until all of a sudden I take that same table apart and plan to build a flower bed out of it. Fairly quickly it becomes lumber. So it is now not a table after all. Er… right? That is the case until I decide without making any changes to the pile, to burn it in a fire. Without moving an inch, by mere planning in my head, it becomes fuel. This pile of wood is fuel for my fire, end of story. …Or perhpas this is where the importance of ‘story’ just begins.
