The Library We Carry Within
I used to believe my stories were mine: my imagination, my creativity, my brilliant inner world. Surely I invented mysterious grandmothers who know too much, forests that whisper, heroines who wander crossroads with stubborn hearts and slightly too-big bags (ahem), right?
Well… not exactly.
Every tale I write, every character who visits, every scene that unfolds behind my eyes carries echoes. Threads. Whispers from women long before me, from myths older than time, from bedtime stories and library books and overheard café conversations. From the land itself.
Stories travel.
They choose us as much as we choose them.
And that is their magic.
They are exquisitely personal… And utterly universal.
We each walk around with an invisible library inside us. A blend of ancient myths, family legends, fairy tales, lived memories, daydreams, disappointments, inherited tales, remembered experiences, newly imagined worlds and divine sparks of imagination. When we tell a story, on a page, in a kitchen, on a walk, or whispered to ourselves in the dark, we are not simply expressing. We are participating in something vast and old and sacred, in a conversation that stretches across time, across cultures, across human experience.
We are weaving ourselves into the great human tapestry of meaning.
So what is a story, really?
Of course, there are the technical definitions.
Character. Conflict. Plot. Resolution.
Cause and effect. Beginning, middle, end.
Humans adore structure: it helps our nervous systems not spin into chaos and curl up under the table with chocolate and regret.
But beneath the mechanics, story is simply this:
A way to know.
A way to see.
A way to make sense of being alive.
The word itself comes from roots meaning inquiry and knowing: not “fiction,” not “entertainment,” but learning how to be human.
Stories are how we turn chaos into meaning instead of… well, just a long to-do list punctuated by misplaced keys and that one awkward conversation we keep replaying in the shower.
Why we tell stories
To remember and preserve culture..
To teach and educate.
To heal.
To feel less alone.
To entertain or persuade.
To connect across tables and across time.
To turn wounds into wisdom.
To navigate the mystery of being here in these wild, miraculous bodies.
And yes, sometimes simply to laugh, to escape, or to survive family holidays without throwing bread rolls.
Stories live everywhere
In myth and poetry.
In novels and films.
In TikToks and confidential whispers and ancestral songs.
In text messages, journal pages, campfires, and kitchen tables.
Humanity has always told stories, whether orally, drawn on cave walls, written on papyrus or on hand-made paper, typed and printed the old-fashioned way, filmed with cameras, intertwined with gameplay in interactive videogames, and more.
Humanity will always find a way to tell stories, even if all we have left is sand to draw symbols in, or a heart full of feeling we haven't yet found language for.
And me? Why do I tell stories?
To remember what is sacred.
To stitch together the earthly and the enchanted.
To follow the Maiden and the Mother, the Enchantress and the Crone as they dance through my life and yours.
To rediscover creativity as a birthright and a way of being, not a luxury.
To root into the wildness and softness of being alive in a human body.
To light lanterns for women walking back home to themselves.
I write to remember who I am… And to remind you who you are, too.
I write to discover who I can become.
And now, your turn
Because you are telling stories, every day, whether you realize it or not.
The story about who you are.
The story about what is possible for you.
The story about your dreams, your limitations, your worthiness, your joy.
Ask yourself:
Is this story mine, or inherited?
Does it liberate me, or shrink me?
Who could I become if I told it differently?
Choose one tiny story today, a moment, a feeling, a memory, a small ritual, a walk in the woods, and tell it. In your journal, in a voice note, in a social post, in your heart.
Begin where you are.
Every myth starts somewhere ordinary.
And remember:
You are not just telling stories.
You are made of them.
You are living them.
You are shaping them.
And there is a whole world, seen and unseen, leaning in to listen.
Voilà. I believe that is all for today. I would be so happy to hear from you. If this spoke to your heart, I would love for you to share it with a sister, a friend, a fellow Goddess on the path. I send, as always, love, light, and gratitude.
Isaya
PS: Over the next few weeks, I’ll be diving deeper into stories and exploring how they shape our lives and the world around us.
PPS: This December 12–14, join women from around the world for Women Lighting the Way: A Summit of Stories, Sisterhood, and Light.
Three days of inspiration, truth, and connection.
A global gathering of women guiding women home.
Free and online. Come as you are, leave illuminated.
Because when we share our stories, we light the world.
Register here: https://wltw-2025.heysummit.com/
