How a Prehistoric Cave Painting Came to My Rescue.

A few weeks ago I was preparing a presentation on why life stories matter for a local organization’s AGM . I was struggling with where to begin until quite by accident I saw a picture of a prehistoric hand print on a cave wall. I was transfixed. It was as if this hand was reaching across those thousands of years to touch my heart. This artist, I like to think, was saying, “Look, I existed. I was flesh and blood. I painted these scenes of wild animals. I knew the hunt. I marveled at the night sky. Do not forget me.”

I knew then how to start my presentation. Our life stories matter because they are part of our DNA. We all have a desire to leave behind some record of who we are. It goes right back to our earliest ancestors. By not recording and preserving our life stories or the stories of our loved ones we are in a sense going against our very nature.

Someone in the future wants to hear from you. Don’t disappoint them.

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