A Half-Million Stories

If we are to believe the media, statistics, red flags, and warning signs, we are in trouble... and have been for a long time. We need only look around for proof of danger, chaos, and upside-down thinking. We know our actions--and often lack thereof--have threatened our planet, putting the survival of various species and even whole ecosystems in peril. We know our attitudes and habits--and sometimes lack thereof--around money, food, and relationships have created crises for our bank accounts, bodies, families and communities. We see a world of violence, oppression, intolerance, and war, and we know--if we look at the headlines we would prefer not to see--that each day, somewhere, countless numbers of our human brothers and sisters are suffering and dying from disease, starvation, injustice, and genocide. We know that somehow we have veered off-track, and we fear that we (as individuals and collectively) may never get back to a place of stability, health, and balance.

What's more, it all seems so overwhelming! Where to start? With poverty? War? Disease? Greed? Intolerance? Crime? Our children? Our parents? The homeless? In our communities? Our country? Halfway around the world? One could easily give way to depression, cynicism, fear, anxiety, or hopelessness.

Except that there's more to the story...

We also have countless examples of individuals (and communities and cultures and whole civilizations)--from the past and in the present--who have faced adversity and triumphed, who have overcome obstacles, who have solved problems large and small, who have had the most amazing comebacks, who have saved lives, who have inspired others, who have made life-changing contributions and had awe-inspiring achievements, who have persisted and had a breakthrough, who have endured darkness and survived to see the light, who have struggled and sacrificed and won, who have created breathtaking art and new paradigms, who have lived lives of grace and dignity, and who have touched others through their love, compassion, courage, insight, imagination, and heroism. We need to tell those stories.

Einstein told us that we couldn't solve problems from the level on which they were created. We need a different vantage point. Powerful stories can give us that. Powerful stories can give us insights, solutions, models, guidance, and wisdom. I submit we need to make a conscious effort to re-story our world. I think we need to generate a frenzy of story-sharing. We need our stories to flow in an abundant circle of give and take. We need personal stories and family stories, histories and biographies, fictions and poems and works of art. Powerful stories can bring us together. Powerful stories can help us learn and celebrate. Powerful stories can give us hope. We need to tell those stories.

How many shared stories does it take to heal wounds, solve problems, create breakthroughs? How many shared stories might it take to right wrongs, bring change, save us?

In William Gibson's play The Miracle Worker--itself a story of persistence and problem-solving, of overcoming obstacles, of hope and triumph--Annie Sullivan tries to break through the communication barrier between Helen Keller and the world at large by teaching Helen sign language. Annie spells into Helen's hand constantly, hoping to give her the key to language and thus communication. Helen's mother watches the process and asks how many finger-spelled words it will take before Helen "knows." Annie's reply is "Maybe a million." Kate Keller then asks to learn the sign language letters, so she, too, can spell words to Helen. Working together, Annie and Kate only need to spell a half-million words each.

We have a story-model. It only takes one person to begin. It only takes one to join in. Our efforts matter, and, as in Helen's case, when the breakthrough occurs, the whole world changes.

A Broad Definition of Story

If I were speaking as a teacher, writer, historian, psychologist, media scholar, or in any one of a number of other roles, I might define story differently. As a human being, though, I think we know in our innermost being what stories--good stories--are: creative expressions, narrative in nature, that somehow sustain us. Our best stories have incredible power.

I believe our ancient ancestors knew this. Gathered in communal circles in the darkest night times in the most isolated spots, carefully tending the embers of fires that kept them safe and warm, our ancestors also carefully tended their stories. Stories were safeguarded, valued, and shared; survival depended upon it. I believe our survival still depends on our sharing of meaningful stories, but with all of our modern shelters and insurances and weapons and "conveniences"--all of our so-called "protections"--we often forget this. We forget that what really guarantees our survival and allows us to thrive is something that comes from within... and our best stories honor this.

We need the kinds of stories that inspire us and lift us up, that give us guidance when we venture into unknown territory. We need stories that impart knowledge, and more importantly, wisdom. We need stories that entertain us and lighten our loads in the midst of chaos, confusion, and turmoil, allowing our spirits to sing even in the midst of stress, anxiety, fear, and darkness. More than anything else, we need stories that bring us together, that provide a basis for intimate human sharing in a world that is increasingly impersonal, disconnected, and fragmented.

So where do we find these stories? Everywhere! We need only look and listen, or, more precisely, "see" and "hear."

I define "story" broadly. As I see it, meaningful stories can emerge from "classic" literature and popular literature, biographies, memoirs, journalism, and history. Meaningful stories can also emerge from myths and sacred texts, movies and television episodes, songs and symphonies, photographs, paintings, rituals and dances. Finally, of course, some of our most important stories are the ones embedded in our conversations, letters, e-mails, and journals--the stories that we share with our friends and family members, and the stories we tell ourselves.

The kinds of stories I'm interested in--the ones that have power--are the ones that reach us in that "story place" we all have. You know the "story place." It's what makes your ears perk up in a public setting when you sense an earnest conversation is taking place or what draws your undivided attention to a certain relative who starts to speak at the Thanksgiving dinner table. It's what makes you stop dead in your tracks when that movie is on television (you know the one!), even though you've seen it a dozen times before. It's what creates a hush when a certain poem or scripture or tribute to someone is read aloud; it's what makes people sink into a painting or photograph or musical score. These reactions don't occur when we are listening to instructions or reading our cereal boxes or watching the stock ticker. Nor do these reactions occur when the stories before us--the tales and sounds and images--are just "filler," a distraction, a reader's, listener's, or viewer's version of "empty calories."

We need robust, meaningful stories that feed our souls and spirits. I believe many of us are starving for them. We don't need just any stories right now; we need our best stories. Our best stories provide connections between what we feel deep inside our most tender hearts and what we experience as we face the challenges of our daily lives. Our best stories--whether written, spoken, displayed, or danced--tell us something about who we are.