As my family will attest, I am a story teller.   I love the fine art of embellishment, coupled with a silly voice and lots of uncontrolled facial and body gestures.   If done well it is an art.  If it isn’t, they just shake their head at my weird-ness. 

I love to tell stories, and I have a giant file at work that has bits of pieces of old legends and children’s stories.   Some of those bits and pieces will never see the light of day.  There might be a good piece to them, but nothing that I can make into a whole.  Others are bound to be part of a posting, sermon, or just random conversation.

In the end, the stories I enjoy most come from a world away.   The stories that come from Japan, China, and other parts of Asia are the most fascinating to me.  They remind me that although our culture is so different, we share some common traits.   Among those common traits is the simple truth that can be found in our stories.

One of my favorites is a Taoist story that is often called the Sack…

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