This this story is one from the North American Indian tradition.
And it is a story that tells us the importance in our lives of story telling.
And is called the Story Fire.
When Jiawa the great Spirit created the universe and all living things he gave to each of those living things a story to tell.
Yes every creature, every mountain, every river, every had its own story.
And as keeper of those stories the great Spirit appointed a wise woman called Sajako and it was Sajako who lit the story fire.
A fire around which every living thing could gather to tell its own story.
And it was Sajako who would remember those stories and take them out into the world and tell them to others who would tell them to others, who would tell them to others.
And so it was that every living thing in the world knew the story of every other living thing.
Because of that they were able to live in great harmony.
Until man set out to conquer the earth and to rule over all others.
Until man, began to tear up the prairies and pollute the rivers and the sea.
Until man began to foul the forests and tear the heart out of the mountains.
And as he made a wasteland of the earth so his own life became a waste land full of things, full of hurry, full of greed.
And in that waste land people no longer listened to the voice of Sajako.
They had no time for the stories.
They laughed and called them foolish.
Only a few of the old ones remembered, but they were called foolish too.
No one listened to the stories.
So the stories withered and began to die.
Without their stories being told eagle and buffalo and coyote and bear, they no longer gathered around the story fire.
Story circle was broken.
Fire dwindled.
Without its story being told the rains ceased to fall.
Grass no longer grew.
The wind stopped blowing across the prairies.
And when the people saw this they were afraid.
They feared that when the sun no longer heard its story being told it would no longer bring the day.
They feared that when the last story was forgotten the earth itself would die.
But Sajako had not forgotten the stories.
Little by little people began to listen for her voice very deep in their hearts.
First it came in dreams and then little by little stories came back and people began to pass them on.
First to their children and then to each other.
And when rain heard its story being told it began to fall again.
When grass heard it story being told, it grew green and tall.
And the wind heard its story being told it sent little breezes running back across the prairies to tell the people, 'I am back.
'
And one by one as they heard their own stories again the birds and the beasts and the spirits of the trees and the rivers and the rocks and of all living things gathered once more around the story fire to tell their tales again and to tend the story fire even more lovingly for having been away.
Now perhaps as we listen once more to each others stories, the world again will learn to live in peace and harmony.