Tell Me Something Good

Enter Storyman, A Novel Storyteller's Experience by Benny Torres

I've never truly realized how big of a factor storytelling was in my life until I had to take a class about it. Going in, I thought that a storytelling class was going to be a pretty surface level, Dr. Seuss group reading type of class. How wrong I was. I had no idea that so much went into the art of storytelling. The many parts that make up a story, the tones, the purposes. All of that was hidden in plain sight, not making an appearance until you truly were to open your eyes and perceive what was given to you. Going into my first story, I didn't really feel too confident. I had to rely a little bit on a piece of paper in front of me, rather than memorizing and creating that movie inside of my head as I told it. However, onto my second story, I felt I had grown more confident and seamless in the telling of my stories. Of course, it was about something I was passionate about, so it had to be a bit easier for me. It was about Metallica.

I started off my story with an attempt at humor, addressing Metallica as a "little-known band" that you "may or may not have heard of.” The funny introduction, however, did not reflect the story I was about to tell. You see, the story I was about to tell was about James Hetfield, the front man of Metallica.

But before we can get into that, let's dive into how I even got into Metallica. Why did I care so much? Metallica and I had a rocky relationship at first. Whenever I heard them play, I thought it was just a band of nobodies whose prime was way long ago. I even got a little bit annoyed about how many people claimed to like their music, until one day, I chose to finally give in and see what all the hype was about. As I listened and perused their albums, dating back to the 1980's, I found myself relating to their music. I found that I could often find a little chapter of my life in some of the songs they wrote. There were many times when I felt like I was just *FADE(ing) TO BLACK* on repeat, not really knowing who I was or where I was going. It spoke to me, it awakened me, I guess you can say. Since then, I have been hooked. They're pretty much my most streamed band of all time.

So, as I was digging deeper into their music, I decided to look beyond Metallica and its music, I wanted to look at the characters. As I dug and dug, I found some trauma, an incident, and a scourge upon the band's name. It was Cliff's death,  what followed after, and James' worsening alcohol addiction. Morbid things such as this were compelling to me, it was *THE THING THAT SHOULD NOT BE*.

So I decided to tell my second and most confident story to date about James' experience because it was inspiring. I also definitely think that everyone, if they are human, can relate to it. A vice of everyone's choosing, consuming their life, forcing them to succumb to their desires, knowing it spelt the end for them. For sin promises death. Everyone at one time in life was a puppet, and everyone has had to face the *MASTER OF PUPPETS*.

James’ story is more than just music, it's about pain, rebellion, healing. At one point, his life was like being *TRAPPED UNDER ICE*, unable to break free from the weight of his own addictions. Every day was a battle to escape the inner voices that whispered, *NOTHING ELSE MATTERS*. He was consumed by the bottle in his hand. But he didn’t stay there. He fought. He sought help. And that moment when he surrendered, when he let go of his pride and turned from self-destruction, it was the day he finally found *THE UNFORGIVEN* part of himself and made peace with it.

That’s why I chose to tell his story. Because in many ways, it mirrors ours. Whether it's addiction, pride, fear, or sin, we all have our own *RIDE THE LIGHTNING* moments. But like James, we don’t have to be defined by the fire, we can be refined by it. What better way to share those defining moments than by sharing them with others?

(Phrases in all caps are Metallica songs!)

Back to School at 63 years old! by Connie Galeener

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C.S. Lewis

I am building my dream of becoming a dramatic storyteller on a strong foundation established during my lifetime as an actor, puppeteer, and playwright. As an actor, I’ve told other character’s stories in first person. As a puppeteer, I’ve played up to twelve characters in one production – bringing all twelve to life! When I wrote and produced plays for my theater students, I leaned on those life experiences because I had no formal training.

As I reach retirement, I’m standing on my strong foundation and have committed to getting the training (online and in class), the practice (at home, in my classroom), and to implementing the affirmative coaching process (during class).

It’s taken me 30 years to sign up for the Storytelling Institute. Becoming a storyteller is not a new idea, it is simply the right time in my life to do it. I knew that I needed to learn story structure and other expectations of an audience with practiced ears. To my surprise, much of the learning would be in the form of an app – Canvas – which was where I’d find the class syllabus, a schedule, recordings of storytellers, readings, handouts, discussions, extra-credit, reflections, and other resources on the subject of storytelling. I realized the learning curve would be steep, especially since I am not an accomplished computer user. I have successfully completed assignments, evaluations, and quizzes!

The “in person” experience brings it all together. I quickly found myself among people who, like me, were on a storytelling journey. These people would be my peers, my audience, and my support system. My teacher, my storytelling “sensei,” provides encouragement, makes herself available for my needs and the needs of my peers.

In summary, the goal and the dream are coming into focus. The first steps of the journey have been taken – boldly! The map lies before me. I have begun to interpret its legend and have recognized some challenges. I have learned from the storytelling adventures of those who have gone before me that I will need to find the stories I am compelled to tell, do the research, the writing and rewriting, the rehearsal and practice before audiences. I will appreciate the talents I have to make this life’s journey a fulfilling and exciting one.

(Connie is behind the puppet at the far right in the photo at the top of the post.)

Never Doubt by Lupita Hightower, Ed.D.

“Never Doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world: Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has!” is one of my favorite quotes by Margaret Mead.

At the heart of any change and particularly, every significant change, from civil rights movements to environmental activism has been a small group of committed citizens who questioned, protested, and fought for justice. These groups often faced immense obstacles—resistance from the powerful, limited resources, and fear. But what they possessed in abundance was conviction and courage: the belief that their actions, no matter how small they seemed in the moment, could lead to something greater.

This quote, personally, gives me purpose, drive, grit, and motivation to know that someone ordinary can act towards the extraordinary.

Upon reflection of my storytelling class, I had thoughtfully brainstormed different people, events that had helped humanity and that I could share with the rest of the class. I kept getting pulled to folks who have made a big difference for others and have also inspired me to do better. The characters selected in my stories were unassuming YOUNG people who took bold actions to help their communities. With the awareness that they may be forced to leave their towns, face ridicule, and, at worst, risk losing their lives. Yet, they acted and made significant changes for their communities and even their countries. Whether they received credit or not…it did not matter. The cause was much bigger than them!

Because of these folks that I call heroes/sheroes, creating and telling fact-based and historical stories has become an obsession for me—throughout the research process from deciding on the subject, to reading, interviewing and learning more about a person or event, it is undeniable that there is a thrill and joy to give these stories a voice. It is also as exciting to receive feedback or nuggets as one relates stories to others that will only make the stories even more enjoyable. Yet, the process of crafting the stories is not easy. I have learned that there are many ways of crafting a story and it is a matter of personal preference. For me, it has been helpful to write out the entire story. As a factual storyteller, I do have to balance the desire to keep my audience interested with the need for accuracy, ensuring that the emotions and perspectives of the characters are conveyed in a way that feels real and is historically factual. I have also learned from fellow storytellers that stories can be about anything, but one of the main ingredients for storytelling is a strong connection to the story, so you can relate the story with joy and for the audience to remember something about a story.

More than anything, I have learned that there are so many courageous individuals in our community and the world, and their stories must be told!

We Get to Share the Gift of Storytelling to Children by Nereyda Martinez

With the use of more and more technology, I notice more and more eyes looking down on screens. I worry about what that means for our children and their interactions with other humans.

We know technology is not going anywhere and it will continue advancing. We also know that humans are not going anywhere. That’s good news.

Storytelling is a way that restores my faith in humanity for many reasons. When I think of children, in particular, I think of the ways that Storytelling can remind children of the magic of listening to someone without any distractions.

Giving children undivided attention is priceless. As adults, we know that. We appreciate that in others. Children not only desire more of it but it supports them with building relationships with others.

We can’t afford to lose this.

I like to think of how Storytelling will restore so much for our children. I think of how it will restore our ability to use our own imagination. I think of how it will restore our ability to learn valuable lessons from stories. I think of how it will bring us back to a time where oral stories were everything we had.

In my short time of storytelling, I have been able to share stories with my children. I have seen first-hand in my daughter, specifically, the impact that stories have made on her. She will recall stories almost word for word that I have told her. She will also create her own versions of them. She will ask for more.

Not only do we get to bond this way but she is also able to get lost in her own world bringing the story to life in her mind. She gets to receive the gift of Storytelling.

Whether you are a parent, a grandparent, a teacher, a relative, a friend, you get to have the responsibility of gifting Storytelling to children. You get to have the responsibility of gifting your undivided attention. You get to have the responsibility of gifting what our ancestors did for many, many years.

You get to. And you must.

All you need is a story, your own joy, and time. I think we can all manage to make that happen.

Because we’re not going anywhere and neither are our stories.

(The image at the top of the post can be found here, along with a very good article.)

I Love Picture Books by Rebecca Love

I love picture books!

Picture books can address any topic- from the silly to the serious. They are fiction, folklore, mythology and nonfiction including biography, science, and history. The amount of text is controlled to convey a succinct story or set of facts. Picture books have very clear themes or main ideas. They often employ oral storytellers’ favorite tools of rhyme, rhythm, and/or repetition. Picture books include drawings, photos, or graphics that enhance the text content, and offer ideas for oral storytellers to build on for imagery and sensory details. We should all be celebrating authors of good picture books.

When I look for a picture book turn into an oral story, I have to really like the book. Just like looking for folktales, myths, legends, or hero stories to tell, the teller has to love the story or the listeners will know somethings not working. I once read a picture book to a preschool class that I didn’t really like, but the title was part of the preschool curriculum. I felt like I was droning on and on, and I shouldn’t have been surprised when the three- and four-year-olds started to get squirmy and distracted. They were quick to tell me that they were bored or didn’t understand the story very well. I know my reading performance fell flat for the kids because I personally didn’t like the book (and I didn’t really think it was well-written).

Choosing a picture book that features a folktale, myth, or legend is easy for me. Those stories came from the oral tradition, so they easily translate back into the oral tradition for telling.

Choosing a modern, original picture book story to tell orally is a bit more difficult for me. So far, I have found that stories that very heavily rely on the pictures as opposed to the text to be the most challenging

For example, I love the picture book Sam and Dave Dig a Hole.

The boys, Sam and Dave, are so relatable. These two explorer boys, and their adorable little dog, start to dig a hole. They are going to dig through the earth to the other side. What kid hasn’t thought about or tried that?

 The end papers of the book are mirror images of each other, but with slight differences. In the beginning of the book, the two boys are leaving the house and shows a cat with a red collar and an apple tree. At the end of the book, the pictures show the boys returning to the house, but the cat has a blue collar and there is a pear tree. These differencing mirror images imply that each end of the book is on the opposite side of the world or that the world or the boys have changed over the course of their journey. But do I include those awesome end pages into the story? Are they necessary? How would I do it?

As the boys dig, a great deal of the story is told in the pictures and text is used sparingly. Readers can see that Sam and Dave are coming close to all kinds of wonderful hidden treasures like gems or dinosaur bones. The little dog is depicted as being attentive to hidden treasures that Sam and Dave don’t know are there. And then the pictures show Sam and Dave digging in such a way that they miss all the treasure, creating some ironic humor for readers.

How do I talk about the visual information in the pictures and create the images orally and keep the humor and the irony without overexplaining? I am sure that lots of planning, practice, and revision will be involved.

I’ve also seen that some of the best activities to accompany this story. For example, kids can draw their own hole maps and include the treasures that they value and would love to discover on such an adventure. Here’s one example from an adult to role model for kids.

Now that I’ve written this post, I’ve convinced myself that I can and should try to turn this picture book into a story. It might be challenging, but it will be fun, too. Stay tuned for my oral rendition in the future.

How Do I Do This? by Elizabeth Wunsch

“Everybody! I need your help to tell this story. When I go like this can everyone yell SLOP!”
I flung both of my arms above my head, maybe as an exclamation, maybe as a conductor of my classroom of fourth grade vocalists. “Okay, ready?…. 

Up went my arms. A loud “SLOP” rang out through the classroom. Inside I am thinking “Thank God, that went well.” Then I looked down at girl sitting right in front of me. She was holding up a piece of paper that she had printed SLOP on. She wasn’t able to speak it, but she found a way to communicate with me. My heart melted.

Ya see, I don’t have any children and haven’t had the privilege of lots of exposure to nieces and nephews and classrooms of children throughout my life. Telling stories to children seemed so foreign yet so wonderful to me. You can prepare all you want but it won’t hit you until you are in front of that first classroom, telling your first story. “Do they care? Will they listen? Will they like me? How do I do this?”

In the back of the room a boy fiddled with all the things on his desk. Got up and went to the door and his teacher motioned him back. I kept the story going. Arms kept flying up and SLOP kept ringing out. I don’t recall seeing the boy’s hands fly up. But he had finally found a point of stillness. Is he able to listen?

The children heard four stories total from Lauren and myself. They seemed excited as we gathered to take a group picture. Then as we were leaving, the young girl who had been sitting in front of me, came up to me and showed me a piece of paper on which she had printed “Thank You”. Then the walking boy ran up to me, looked me In the eye and exclaimed, “SLOP” and wanted a Hi-Five from me.

I left that room and the next classroom I told in and then the ah-ha came. They do hear me. Just tell from my heart. Let them hear my heart in whatever I tell. Let them know I hear theirs. Just tell. Don’t worry.  Just allow myself to communicate. And appreciate.

I understand now because I took the first step through the door of the first classroom and asked everyone to yell “SLOP!”

(The picture at the top of the post shows Lauren Besich telling to the class that Elizabeth told to later. Unfortunately, no picture of Elizabeth telling :(.

My Mother's Classroom by Terri Jackson

I was raised in a family of educators. My mother, Everlyn S. Franks, taught first grade for many years. She use these techniques and concepts in her classroom many years before scientists and researchers figured it out.

 

She knew Storytelling would develop lifelong skills for children: cognitive understanding, communication, listening, language, and writing skills plus a love for nature.

 

A country girl raised on her parent’s farm, she told stories about feeding and caring for the animals. As the oldest child, Mother  also told stories about taking care of her siblings and how she managed family conflicts. Her students loved to listen to her  humorous family stories , with her quiet voice, and soon began communicating and sharing their own family stories with each other.

 

The class planted seasonal gardens with flowers and vegetables, to share with their families as the students learned to understand their connection with nature.

 

Mother‘s classroom was always filled with story and coloring books kids could borrow and take home.  Additionally, there was an aquarium with brightly colored fish the kids could count and feed, plus a record player for listening to stories or dancing to music. The kids love to play outdoors, but she always had some things they could play with indoors, keeping them engaged  in learning.

 

Reading about the importance of Storytelling to Children, I was glad Mother had a passion for helping children become successful adults through the Art of Storytelling.

 

Never Underestimate the Power of Smell in Storytelling by Sharon Gilbert

Smells bypass the thalamus. Smells go straight to the olfactory bulb, or the brain’s smell processing center. This bulb is directly linked to the amygdala (responsible for emotion) and hippocampus (responsible for memory). The olfactory bulb’s proximity to the brain’s emotion and memory centers might explain why scent can immediately trigger a vivid memory or strong emotion. The sense of smell is specific, which helps to explain how our smell memories can be so precise. (source.)

Have you ever been surprised by a scent out of the blue that takes you back to a memory from your past? I have one memory that does that immediately and that is the smell of wood that has been soaked in water and soap for a long time. It takes me back to a summer spent at my grandparent Smiths home in Ottumwa Iowa in the 1940s.

Writers and storytellers have long discovered that describing the smells in a story can carry the listener into the story from their own memories.

I recently had the opportunity to tell one of my short stories from my repertoire, “Peach Pie”, it elicited several remarks that I expected.” Your story made my mouth water, I could smell the spices, it made me hungry.”   At the very beginning of my storytelling career this was the story whose seeds were planted in a class. When I finally developed it into a full-blown story, I knew I had to incorporate these descriptions of smells into the story so that the audience could become a part of the story and understand why my characters intensely wanted to eat that pie. Most audiences have a memory of the pleasant smells of cinnamon and nutmeg.

We don't have to have the actual items to bring back those memories, we just need to describe them well. So, when we're telling a story we might consider describing the smells involved to carry the listener into the story. I think of Mark Goldman’s story “The Smell of Money”, where he describes the smells of the bakery where the fragrance of baking bread helps a hungry person feel full. When we’re hearing that story, we can smell that fragrance wafting out of the bakery as well and we can imagine it helping the hungry beggar feel better. Recently, there was a storytelling concert at the Tempe Center for the Arts and several of the tellers told stories of preparing food for the holidays. I'm sure that most of the audience was taken back to Thanksgivings in their past by memories of the smell of turkey gravy lovingly described by Liz Warren.

I'm also imagining that a scary story could be made even more scary if the teller describes some unpleasant smells, such as the smell of smoke, or of walking through a damp forest at night,  maybe even the smell of a wet dog, or the putrid smell of a sewer. Any of these smells described in detail could help bring your listener into the story with you by way of their own memories.

I know that retelling a familiar story has motivated me to see how I can enhance other stories I tell and bring my audience in closer by adding more smelly memory clues to my stories.

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

To Tell or Not to Tell by Kate Helm

Like many Americans, I am not one but many. My roots have been planted and dug up many times over. My mother's family all came from Ireland and migrated here in the mid-1800s looking for opportunity and a fair shake. They started out in New York and then moved westward to settle in towns and cities around Iowa. I did not grow up there in the midwest, however, amongst cousins, aunts and uncles. In the 40s, 50s and 60s my grandfather worked in management for various companies like Goodyear Tires and Lockheed Martin that sent him and his family (my mother in tow) all over the country, from Iowa, to California and ultimately to Georgia where I was born many years later.

 

And how about my father's family? They came over in the wave of Eastern European immigration in the early part of the 20th century. My grandmother herself was an immigrant. Her family all settled in Buffalo and she would eventually raise her family there as well. That is my father's hometown, but thanks to the military, he left there at 18 and was eventually stationed in Georgia where he would later meet my mother.

 

So do I tell the stories of my Irish ancestors? How strong is one's connection if it's so many generations removed? How about the midwestern tales from my grandparents and great grandparents? My mother grew up hearing those but then moved herself as a young girl so they fail to conjure strong meaning and connection to me. 

 

I could try my hand at Polish storytelling, but I don't even know what that means. My father's family was not much for stories, preferring to keep their words short and to the point. There's not much room for fairy tales in immigrant households that were just struggling to survive. 

 

I've thought about stories from the American South. I was born and raised among southerners, but they were ultimately not my people. I grew up an outsider in my community - neither of my parents were southerners; I went to Catholic schools with lots of military kids, all transplants from around the country. Telling folktales from the deep south feels performative and appropriating. Ultimately, while I love all the stories, they simply aren't mine to tell.

 

So where does that leave me? What stories are mine to pass down? Which roots do I honor? Which norms do I follow? I don't have any answers but I know they're important questions to ask. If I've learned anything from these few months of learning about storytelling, it's that we must choose stories that resonate and connect with something deep inside of us. Modern day Americans whose ancestors hail from all over are in a unique position to have loose connections to traditions from around the world, but is a loose connection enough? What more do we need to do to ensure that the stories we tell are true, authentic, and meaningful? Thinking about these questions reminds me that storytelling is not simply a privilege, but also a responsibility. A story is not just entertainment, but also a gift we give to our community and our children. I never want to be someone who takes that lightly.

Storytelling and Play by Myranette Robinson

Experts have found that pretend play affords children opportunities to express different processes. Cognitive, affective and interpersonal processes are all important for creativity.  Storytelling can teach lessons without making children feel that they are being lectured to.  Storytelling can also promote creativity and teach reading structure.  Both playing and listening to stories are a fun and wholesome experience for children.  Each gives children a unique avenue to learn acceptable behavior. They also enhance their ability to negotiate conflicts and the ability to think “out of the box.’ 

In the November 30, 2021 issue of Psychology Today, an article by Scott G. Eberle Storytelling is Play; so is “Storylistening," tells of a toddler boy who likes dinosaurs and trucks.  He was taught that some dinosaurs eat meat (T-Rex) and some eat plants (Stegosaurus).  The boy’s imagination had created dinosaurs driving trucks, sailing boats and crossing sandy plains on a llama.

I have a friend who taught his 5-year-old daughter about Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott.  She was happy to tell the story to me without much prompting from her father. She is now working on a story about beans. I can’t wait to hear it. 

You maybe wondering what age should combing play and storytelling should stop.  I had a group of over 21-year-old “kids” play imaginary drums during a story. The “kids” had as much fun as the preschoolers.  It shows that combing play and storytelling is fun for all ages.  

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

Who is a Full-Service Storyteller? by Diana Dinshaw

Who is a full service traditional storyteller? Well to answer this question let’s break it up into two; full service storyteller and traditional storyteller. 

A traditional storyteller is someone who tells (not reads) stories from the oral tradition. These are stories from the preliterate societies.

A full service storyteller is someone who can tell any type; folktale, myth, legend, personal, fact-based, children’s story. While they may have a leaning and preference towards one type or another they have all sorts of stories in their repertoire.

While audiences of all ages like listening to stories and aren’t really bothered if a story is myth, legend or folktale from an academic perspective it is valuable to know what the distinctions are. 

Here is what I have learned:

Folktales: These are simple stories that were passed down orally from generation to generation for the purpose of teaching morals and lessons in an entertaining way. The listeners get the most delight out of these stories when they can suspend belief and be transported into the world of fairies, talking animals and magic. Fairy Tales, Fables and Wisdom Tales are types of Folktales. While some people use folklore synonymous with folktales the two are different. Folklore is the collective culture of a group of people and includes art, music, architecture, textile and of course stories. These stories could be myths and legends of that culture as well as folktales. 

Some examples of folktales would be Cinderella, The Scorpion and the Frog, The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

Myths: Myths are stories about gods and goddesses, heroes and how the world was created. At some time these stories were considered to be true and a religious belief for the people of that culture. Like the Greek, Roman and Norse myths. The myths from India are still a living religion for the majority of the people living in India and the diaspora. 

The Hero’s Journey story structure by Joseph Campbell is a useful tool to map the hero myths (and other types of stories). The Labors of Hercules is an example of a myth that can be mapped to the hero’s journey story structure.

Some examples of myths are, Prometheus and the Theft of Fire, Romulus, Remus and the She-Wolf, Odin's Lost Eye, Lord Rama and the Army of Monkeys.

Legends: Stories of real people and events that took place a long time ago. While the people and events are real the story about them may be exaggerated and not completely factual. 

As a full service storyteller the teller may also have some urban legends in their repertoire. However, these are not considered traditional stories because these stories are set in contemporary times and circulated as if it is the truth. These stories are usually spooky and chilling.

Examples of legends would be King Arthur and the Round Table, George Washington Chopping the Cherry Tree.

While I am a storyteller and not a narratologist I do think learning and discussing what makes one type of story different from another is interesting. I say discussing because sometimes the lines between the types are not clear. However, I do not have to be a narratologist to know that the Prometheus and the Theft of Fire is a myth and not a folktale.

Let's Make Magic by Bryce Barraza

Let’s make magic!

…by using imagination! Yes, your imagination! You know, the willy-wonka-style contraption making inventions in your head.

There is logic to what I’m proposing. I swear. Just follow the trail of everlasting gobstoppers.

Elizabeth Ellis explains that, as storytellers, “When we help others use their imagination, they make an image, and something magic happens.” (E. Ellis) That magic refers to the ability of story to transcend time and space. When a story is well crafted and told, the events of that story are happening in present-time, in the imagination of the audience and storyteller –regardless of when and where the story takes place.  

Through imagination, storytellers and audiences, “…are transported to a different realm.” (E. Ellis) Or as Laura Packer states, “They imagine with us and we move into new worlds together.” (L. Packer)

So, how do storytellers make magic through imagination? We have to help create images to spark the imagination!

Okay, okay…so, how do storytellers create images? Well, we have to activate the five senses! 

Activate the five senses!

The five senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch! Storytellers Ellizabeth Ellis and Laura Packer offer tips of how to think about sensory descriptions while crafting images within story. Below are some that I find helpful in my crafting, and hope you find them useful, too.

Sight

Consider how much visual detail you need to provide. Sometimes one or two attributes is sufficient. Trust the imagination of the audience to complete the image. To find the most important attributes of the image, E. Ellis encourages you to think of the one characteristic that stands out most.

What one physical characteristic do you imagine when thinking of your pet? I think of my basset hound’s long velvety ears that drag on the floor.

Also consider how you phrase the description. L. Packer offers the technique of using simile when wanting to ‘deepen the experience’ for the audience when creating an image. For example, “The hair was the color of oak bark.” vs. “The hair was the color dark brown.”

Sound

You do not have to be a sound machine or make sound effects to engage the hearing sensory. But if you have that skill, go for it. Just try not to distract from the rest of your story. However, if you’re like me, one who does not have the sound machine gift, consider onomatopoeia (e.g., boom, creak, swish, roar!). Consider changing the tone of your voice to account for different characters and emotions.

Consider describing sound to invoke emotion. The slamming of a door to invoke anger, or the ticking of a clock to describe boredom. (E. Ellis)

Consider describing sound to enhance engagement with the story’s setting. Do you hear the fire crackling or the birds chirping? 

Smell

Smells spark memories. When I smell fresh cut grass, I remember mowing the lawn with Dad as a kid. Smells help enrich the setting. If I sit in my mom’s kitchen, I know I will smell freshly brewed coffee.

Consider incorporating smells into your story. What is your favorite smell? Or what smell can you not stand? If you have an answer to either of these questions, that supports the notion that the sense of smell is a great way to activate the imagination of the audience and ensure they remember the story.

As an exercise, Elizabeth Ellis asks, “What smell do I associate with these experiences…”: ‘I’m in trouble,’ ‘I have faith,’ ‘It’s all over,’ ‘Mother’s kitchen’?

Taste

Taste is not just about food. Taste can conjure feelings. Therefore, if appropriate to your story, consider incorporating taste. What emotion are you trying to invoke in the audience as the storyteller for this image?

Maybe it’s the feeling of comfort when eating a secret family recipe. Alternatively, the taste of a chalky medicine before a medical procedure can make you feel uneasy and filled with anxiety.  

Touch

1. Ellis reminds us that, “…words imply more than is actually being said.” Therefore, think of what you are trying to convey and how the touch sense can enhance your image. If describing royalty, their clothes may be rich feeling fabrics such as silk and cashmere, which have a very different feel than a burlap sack.

1. Packer also categorizes ‘kinesthetic sensory’ descriptions as more complex experiences that include the physical or touch sense. Maybe you have the flutter of butterflies in your stomach while talking to your crush. Or your heart sank after hearing the news.

Be Intentional

It’s not a check list. Not all five senses need to be used for every image or in every story. Be mindful of the intent of the image. What do you want to convey and have the audience experience? Select the type of sensory detail best for the story and specific image.

Thank you for making magic.

Sources

Ellis, E. (2012). From Plot to Narrative. Parkhurst Brothers Inc.

Packer, L. (2019). From Audience to Zeal: The ABCs of Finding; Crafting and Telling a Great Story. The Small-Tooth-Dog Publishing Group.

Storytelling at the Westward Ho by Stacey Gandy

When I started working with the residents of the Westward Ho, I quickly saw the need for residents to be seen and heard. I recalled attending a storytelling event during the holidays and remembered how connected I felt to the tellers on the stage even though I had never met them. That is what the residents needed! They were hungry for connection. Liz Warren responded enthusiastically when I emailed her asking if she would be interested in exploring a collaboration between the Storytelling Institute and the work we were doing at the Westward Ho.

When the new school year started, Liz trained me and the social work students on using storytelling for advocacy. We met Carly Davis who would be our guide through our storytelling adventures. We learned story structures. We crafted stories. We participated in story circles. We learned how to give affirmative feedback. We told our stories. We were storytellers. We talked about how we would use this with the residents of the Westward Ho. We would offer a storytelling workshop to residents once a month so they could craft stories and practice telling them in small groups of 2-3 people. We would offer a story circle weekly so residents could respond to prompts on various themes. We would also hold a storytelling event once a month if students and residents wanted to tell their story in front of a larger group. We had a plan.

The next month, Carly facilitated our first storytelling workshop. Residents learned story structures. Residents crafted stories. Residents participated in a story circle. Residents learned how to give affirmative feedback. Residents told their stories. The residents were storytellers. It was exciting to see the residents engage with each other and us through their stories. Attendance at this first event was smaller than we wanted, but we knew that word of mouth would help it grow. We also discovered that some residents didn’t attend because they thought someone was going to read them a book and they were not interested. We changed up our advertising and continued! We started student-facilitated story circles and the monthly storytelling events as well as continuing the storytelling workshops. As time went on and we held more and more of these events, the impact of storytelling was beyond what we had hoped.

Residents that normally did not talk with one another were talking. They were able to listen to each other without interrupting or changing the subject. Residents were fondly sharing memories from their past, noting that they had not thought about these events or places for quite some time. Some residents started processing difficult events in their lives and we were able to transition them into needed services to help with this processing. This was more than we were originally hoping for!

We are now in our third year of the storytelling program with the residents from the Westward Ho. We have made some tweaks here and there to continue to improve the experience. Carly is still our guide and Liz our leader. I am so grateful Liz said yes to a cold call email and embarked on this incredibly beneficial journey.

Recognizing the Other Through Story by Kate Helm

You can’t hate someone when you know their story.

I remember reading that line in one of the texts for our Personal Stories class and it has stuck with me ever since. It assumes that humans are inherently bound to each other. Many times we forget about that connection and hate and suspicion grows. When that happens, we can turn to stories to find our way back to each other again. Once I know your story and you know mine, it’s as if we recognize each other once more.

I witnessed this directly just a few months ago. In my work as an interventionist at a local high school, I was recently brought in to mediate a conflict between two teenaged girls. Both girls are highly explosive and had been suspended multiple times for fights. For this particular incident, instead of being suspended off campus, I brought them to an intervention room on campus to serve out their consequence together over three days. I monitored from afar as the two of them slowly opened up to each other. I stayed out of their way as they shared stories about their families, their homes, and their lives. Their stories were both heartbreaking and heartwarming. At the beginning of their stint in our intervention room, they were sworn enemies. By the end, they found that their stories were the same and could no longer hate the other. How can you hate a person whose pain is the same as yours?

Storytelling helped the two of them find the best in each other when they had been hell bent on finding the worst. My mind continues to spin with what I witnessed and with all the possibilities that the simple act of sitting with one another can bring. I find myself seeking others out just to listen to their stories and hope that they ask me for mine. I believed that storytelling was powerful even before I took this class. I know it now.

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

Budding Entrepreneur Storytellers by Lauren Besich

I was asked to give a storytelling presentation to entrepreneurship students at ASU in October.  The instructor wanted his students to learn storytelling skills that would serve them through their careers in business, because ultimately, they are in the business of people, and people connect to stories.  He had spent some time earlier in the semester covering Joseph Campbell's "Hero's Journey" in class, and wanted them to apply this to their experience in business.

To bring them to story, I gave them a core value exercise.  From a list of 75 core values (i.e. social connection, honesty, advocacy, courtesy, etc.) they narrow it down to a list of ten.  I invited them to share their Top Ten in small groups. As I walked around the groups I saw mini-stories start to form as they explained their choices.  From there they brainstormed memories sparked by their Top Ten core values.  After sharing some techniques and structures for story crafting, they each took a turn telling their story to their small group.  My favorite part of the class was when four students told their stories to the whole class. What ensued was incredible.

One student who, to the chagrin of the instructor, arrived 45 minutes late, told a story about his mother battling cancer, and working a full-time job selling pest control while attending school full-time.  Even though his life is hard he sees the blessing of being healthy and able to do the things he enjoys.  Because of this story, the instructor had a better understanding of how this student's inability to sleep at night causes him to be late to class in the morning.  His perspective of this student completely changed.  As the other students told their stories their classmates saw them on a deeper level.  They experienced the power of storytelling.

According to an article on the Berkeley ExecEd website, storytelling in business is effective because it creates an emotional connection for customers, and customers make decisions based on how they feel.  Stories are also easier to remember than data.  I've seen a few great stories in class that told a story with a data set, and I STILL remember them (one was about the "O" ring failure that was responsible for the Challenger explosion).  Stories also encourage action.  People who buy TOMS shoes know that for every pair of shoes they buy, a pair is donated to someone in need.  I had a strong TOMS shoe era a few years ago. 

This ASU professor understands the power of storytelling in the business world, and sees the importance of intentionally including it in his curriculum.  Budding entrepreneurs can apply storytelling skills to all aspects of business life.

Storytelling in business. Berkeley Exec Ed. (n.d.). https://executive.berkeley.edu/thought-leadership/blog/storytelling-business

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

The risks are worth it, all the time! by Donna Martin

It is the end of the fall semester - the last class meeting of STO 297: Creating and Telling Personal Stories. We gather eagerly to hear these last few personal stories thoughtfully crafted by our classmates. They do not disappoint.

I have avoided telling personal stories since 1999 when I earned my storytelling certificate. I found that sharing all the other types of stories – folk tales, tall tales, myths, historical stories, fact-based stories – far easier, more enjoyable, and less scary. To tell a personal story well you need to open yourself up and be vulnerable –scary stuff! This being vulnerable does not come to me easily.

My classmates embrace the process and share amazing stories with humor and pathos. I know more about their formative years, their families, their beloved pets, and adventures because of their honest, authentic storytelling. I am in awe of their personal courage.

Any time a teller crafts a story, certain choices are made – how to structure the story, which perspective to use, what imagery works best to evoke the setting and the characters and weighing the risks of telling the story in a particular way to a specific audience. This is especially true when crafting a personal story.

The best way to conquer fear is to face it. I enrolled in the personal story telling class to face down my fear of being vulnerable while telling stories. We were asked to craft and tell three personal stories – themes and topics were left up to us. I did not disappoint.

Yes. It was challenging, scary, and risky. I was anxious about the way I crafted the stories. Was it relatable? Was it funny in the right places? Could I keep the audience safe? Should I play it safe, or take the risk and be as vulnerable as needed to deliver a well-told story? These questions and more bounced around in my head right up until the moment I started telling the story.

What I learned is. . . the risk is scary, and then you take the risk, and it works. The next time you take the risk, it is still scary, but you remember how well the last time turned out, so you take the risk again, and again, and again. For me, it does not get easier – it becomes a learned habit. Take the risk. Enjoy the outcome.

The risks in storytelling are worth taking. The risks in personal storytelling are worth taking every time.

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

Digging for Treasure by Chrissy Dart

One of the weekly assignments for the Personal Storytelling Class at South Mountain Community College is to listen to all kinds of personal stories.  One week I chose to listen to Elizabeth Ellis tell the “College Aid” story. 

I am fascinated by her cadence, her humor, and her use of pauses.  Though she sits, she is grounded. Her whole body holds and tells the story.  I love that she is so transparent.  This story, though seemingly innocuous, is filled with many themes with which a person can connect.  Elizabeth is good at layering many facets of the human experience in one story.  It is masterful.  The more I contemplated this story, the more profound it became. 

What got me thinking along this line is that someone said the story really was simple and had nothing “traumatic” or moving about it.  Well, since I love Elizabeth Ellis, this irked me.  So, I started deconstructing the story along thematic lines.  This is no simple story.  She is a master.  A person hears what they hear.  This is what stories do.  If you want a simple little story, you hear a simple little story.  But, if you dig a bit, you may find a little treasure.  If you let the story move freely inside of you, it will begin to reveal its many layers. A few "simple" themes I noticed:

• Single Grandparents raising grandchildren
• A general disrespect for artists
• A general lack of knowledge about artists and storytelling artists
• The prohibitive cost for college
• The financial aid maze
• The inhumanity of bureaucracy
• Bureaucrats
• Injustice
• The lack of humor in our society, which points to a lack of humanity
• What lack of empathy looks like
• The financial cost that people go through to feed/please the bureaucratic college financial aid machine
• The list goes on

You can find Elizabeth tell this story at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGrpSV3VHHk

Let me know what other themes present themselves to you. 

The photo at the top of the post is from Elizabeth's press kit.

Humor in Truth by Karen Burns

One of my favorite things about storytelling is its weird, mystical ability to turn the wretched into funny. Honesty is the storyteller’s best friend in all things, but with humor, it’s just required without question. Nothing is funnier than the truth.

In 2015, Kevin McGeehan told a story on The Moth about the final days with his terminally ill mother. I was gob-smacked and immediately Googled to see if he taught storytelling anywhere. It was a quick, short search. He taught improvisation at The Second City Hollywood. I arranged a coaching session and flew out to meet him for coffee. (Link to story at bottom of post)

Kevin had me email some stories so he could choose the best one for oral storytelling. One story I sent him was about a phone conversation with my mother. The story he liked was about dropping our oldest daughter off for her freshman year in college. In the dorm room I froze holding a beautiful pair of her sandals, unable to let them go, while everyone else was organizing her new life. He chose the sandal story because the Mom story was just a daughter complaining about her mother, and therefore, yuck.

Kevin believes we, “Tell stories from scars, not wounds.” Yes, this is widely known among storytellers, but I wasn’t a storyteller yet, so this philosophy rocked my world.

By using the scar guideline I’ve been able to add perspective and humor in crafting stories, and thank God, also to my life.

Some thoughts on humor:

In his Ted Talk, The Skill of Humor, Andrew Torvin laid out five reasons why humor is essential in storytelling:

1. Gets people to listen
2. Increases long-term memory retention
3. Improves understanding
4. Aids in learning
5. Helps communicate messages

In my experience, all of these things have proven to be true.

Here are a few things I’ve used, some successfully even, in crafting stories.

Share your point of view, invite your personality out to play. It’s you, your uniqueness, that brings the audience in to care about you, ideally anyway.

Kevin McGeehan suggests telling two events, or two moments, and then sharing how you felt at the time. This can be a timing thing for comedy but also can allow a space for a quick personal interpretation for all seriousness. For exp:

1. He looked like he was about to punch me.
2. And then, he tried…
3. I hated him and the troll he rode in on, so I kicked him and took off, forever.

The rule of three is a principle that suggests people better understand concepts, situations, and ideas in groups of three. This is a quote from someone who studied this, but I cannot find it!

I recently took an Erma Bombeck ‘writing funny’ class with Marta Kaufman, creator of Friends. Marta’s suggestion: “Mine your embarrassment.” Some of us will have more stories than others…

Erma Bombeck: There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt. Specificity always, Dive into the details and find the funny.

There is always,120% of the time, room for hyperbole.

Personally, finding what’s funny in our truth gives some unique distance for perspective. Looking for the humor helps me not take myself so seriously and has even saved my life.

Last favorite story thing: finding the lighter/laughable qualities in a human you either love or loved, lets them live again in that same delightful light.

"A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking." Steven Wright

Kevin’s story!

 

From Memory Scraps to Life Stories by Mark Compton

I have a lot of old lady friends. There’s Dorothy, 93, the last of my Mother’s (R.I.P.) great friends. She’s completely with it and seems not to have forgotten anything. There’s Barbara, 85, who I swore I’d never talk to again because she’s such a narcissist, but of course I continue keeping in touch because, because despite everything, she’s a great conversationalist who’s led a fascinating life. And the last time I talked to Ana, a retired RN and self-professed know-it-all, on the phone I asked her to remind me how old she was. She said “89 (pause) and a half”. There are others.

 

When the pandemic started 3 years ago, there was so much scary information out there, but one thing seemed true – older folks were the most likely to have fatal consequences from COVID, especially if they have underlying issues. And who doesn’t have underlying issues? It occurred to me I should make a point of calling certain people on a kind of regular basis. Some lived on their own. Some I knew for a long time, some not so long.

 

As much as I had concern for my friends, I didn’t want my calls to be taken as an invitation to a pity party where they could unload all their problems and health concerns. To prevent that, I wouldn't start the conversation with “Hi, how are you?” Instead, when they picked up the phone I would say “Hi Ana, it’s Mark. When was the last time you were in Jefferson City?” and she’d be off. Of course, to ask her that question, I’d have to remember she lived there at one time, so to prepare myself for these calls, I’d write a few questions out on a piece of paper. Sometimes if I couldn’t come up with a good question, I’d go through some photos, taking note of details like dogs, cars, husbands.

 

It was only natural, as I was talking on the phone, a piece of paper with notes next to me, to start jotting down some of the things they were telling me. For instance, I have known Dorothy all my life but not until I started having these ‘covid-era conversations’ did I find out she was born in Weller, OH, a village (her term) on the Ohio River that has been producing Weller Pottery for over a hundred years and when she was a girl during the summer months she worked in the little factory. After a while, these little scraps of paper became little piles of scraps of paper for each of the people I was talking to. To prevent it from becoming a mess I began keeping these little piles in their separate file folder.

 

The pandemic is over and for the most part the big scare is over too. Eventually my phone calls tapered off and although I still call them periodically, it is not with the same regularity as before. One day, not long ago, I received the sad news that one of my old lady friends had passed (not from COVID) and I was told there would be a memorial service, which I then attended. At one point the service was open to anyone who wanted to say something, and when the microphone got to me even her children were surprised I knew so much about her upbringing, accomplishments and what she held dear in her life.

 

After that experience, I decided to go back to those folders with their innumerable scraps of paper, and somehow put some order to them and write a concise, orderly ‘picture’ of their lives. Because I am a better storyteller than a writer, it turns out I can tell the story of these people better than I can write about them.    

Hi, hey, hello…! Can I tell you something? by Bryce Barraza

Hi, hey, hello…! Can I tell you something?

I’ve recently been exploring how best to incorporate dialogue into my stories. Hearing myself use dialogue sometimes makes me feel like I’m listening to my voice on an answering machine. It just doesn’t sound right in my head.

In effort to feel more confident with my incorporation and delivery of dialogue in my stories, I worked to better understand it’s purpose. Dialogue is more than just two characters talking –or so I have learned. 

Dialogue is an opportunity for the storyteller to demonstrate. Dialogue allows the storyteller to transform from the narrator into the characters of the story. When leveraging dialogue, the storyteller is in the position to demonstrate not only the words of a character, but also can demonstrate the physical behaviors and provide insight to the emotions and internal thoughts of the character.

Dialogue can shift the audience’s point of view. D. Bauer describes dialogue as bringing the listener in closer to the characters. For example, if you are sitting in a restaurant, you may see and observe the couple sitting at the table next to you. But you may find your attention drawing closer to the couple as you catch part of their conversation. D. Bauer describes this shift in attention with a quote by Eudora Welty, “Think of your ears as magnets.” A storyteller can use description to adequately create an image of a setting and the character, but the use of dialogue brings the audience’s view in closer to observe the characters.

Dialogue should drive the story forward. Does the dialogue provide additional context, enhance the audience’s understanding of the characters, or contribute to the advancement of the plot? If not, consider whether the dialogue is necessary. Given the ability of dialogue to demonstrate and shift point of view, you may not need to emphasize the characters in this given moment of the story for the audience. A brief description may be adequate. Consider the intent of the dialogue –know why the characters are about to say what you will demonstrate.

Delivery of dialogue. So, with a better understanding of how dialogue can enhance a story, what about the whole ‘answering machine’ thing? L. Packer offers considerations that I find helpful for my personal use of dialogue:

·        Use body language. Shifting your physical stance can help differentiate between characters, as opposed to voices. You can also use body language in place of words. E.g., a shrug of the shoulders can represent the phrase, “I don’t know.”

·        Be careful with voices. Is the voice appropriate for you to use for the character? And secondly, can you be consistent and differentiate enough throughout your story? Don’t let the voice detract from the intent of the dialogue. In fact, it’s okay to use your voice.

One more thought. E. Ellis notes, “It is far more interesting to hear two characters in a story talking to one another than it is to receive a lecture full of abstract facts.” My thought is that storytellers probably want their stories to be interesting and entertaining… right? Dialogue, when incorporated and delivered well, enhances the audience’s connection with the story. So, I’ll keep practicing.

Sources

Bauer, D. (2006). The Stuff of Fiction: Advice on Craft: Vol. Rev. & ed. University of Michigan Press.

Ellis, E. (2012). From Plot to Narrative. Parkhurst Brothers Inc.

Packer, L. (2019). From Audience to Zeal: The ABCs of Finding; Crafting and Telling a Great Story. The Small-Tooth-Dog Publishing Group.  

It's Never Too Late by Guy McIntosh

I find myself in a place where moving forward in life is very important. For years now I have wondered what type of legacy I will leave behind for our future generations. Not so much monetary but historically as to our name and our life choices.

In the last several years, I had some medical issues that eventually led to a three-month hospital stay. During this trying time for my family and myself, I was placed in an induced coma with all the life-saving techniques a modern hospital could apply. With that, I still contracted encephalitis among other life changing issues. After I was released, a series of physical and occupational therapy sessions lasting 16 months were necessary to get back to a “regular” lifestyle. Understandably, my desire to move forward is very important for my family and myself.

So, I recently enrolled in a storytelling class at South Mountain Community College. I did this so I may be able to understand not only how to tell a story, but how to write a story. My desire is to pass some of my life's experiences to my kids and their kids. 

At the age of 69, I had never been to college other than a brief nine-month stint at culinary school. The college process is very foreign to me. I seem to remember teachers were somewhat scary and they made me do things, like study.  (The Nerve!)

My first class we were introduced to the affirmation process of learning. Although I had applied this process to raising children, working with employees and in various communicative ways, I was perplexed. I remember school as being competitive with lots of pressure, not self-imposed, but by the process of learning.

I soon found out the storytelling class was a very comfortable no pressure way of learning. A relief fell over me like a cool sheet on a hot bed. So, here I am reading, studying, and listening to stories by other story tellers, interacting with students and the teacher, who by the way, is not some scary figure in front of class.

I am learning and re-learning words, meeting new people, and enjoying reading stories that I never thought would be interesting. I think to myself, “It's funny: This is not how I remember High School.”

As they say, it's never too late!

Thanks to all my classmates and Liz Warren.

The Mulla and Me by Diana Dinshaw

Idries Shah in his book The Sufis says, ‘Superficially, most of the Nasrudin stories may be used as jokes . . . But it is inherent in the Nasrudin story that it may be understood at any one of many depths. There is the joke, the moral- and the little extra which brings the consciousness of the potential mystic a little further on the way to realization.’

For the Fall 2023 semester, I decided to take Personal Storytelling at the Storytelling Institute again because I had first taken the class a long time ago and I wanted to add more personal stories to my repertoire.

The first time I took the class was in Fall 2017. At that time, I was new to storytelling and now when I reflect back to the stories I told it was just an exercise. While there was some crafting there was not much art. The telling of the stories while enjoyable to the listeners felt superficial to me. Since then, I have told those stories again and again. In fact, I told one of the stories at my Storytelling Graduation Ceremony in May 2023. While the plot of the story was the same the story felt completely different. Like a Nasrudin (often referred to as Mulla) story, my story had gained some depth. 

I have very few personal stories in my repertoire, and these have been told many times. Wanting to increase the number of personal stories in my repertoire I decided to take the class again and crafting personal stories continued to be challenging for me. I can read through a list of prompts and while the prompts may trigger a memory here or there nothing sticks long enough to reach that depth from which I would want to craft it into a story. And even if some idea gets past that phase I get stumped by the question, “Why do I want to tell this story?”

Then a discussion in class about universal themes ignited a thought. What if I explored universal themes to prompt story ideas? Austin Valenzuela in his article “What is a Universal Theme”’, explains that a universal theme is that which resonates with the characteristics of all humanity. It includes ideas that are adaptable and recurring throughout time and human experience. Just the fact that the story was emerging from a universal theme would be enough to answer my, “Why do I want to tell this story?” question. 

So, I started searching the internet for what are some recurring universal themes. As you can imagine I found many. Paul Jenkins’ blog as the title Universal Themes: 180 Examples for Literature and LifeLinks to an external site. suggests has 180 examples. Below are some that resonated with me and I feel that may lead to the crafting of a story or two:

• Overcoming obstacles
• Transition to adulthood
• Grief and loss
• Living in the moment
• Parent relationship
• Sibling rivalry
• Value of friendship
• Accepting fate
• Fond memories
• Embracing change
• Seizing the moment
• Method in madness
• Cultural misunderstandings

When I look back at the personal stories in my repertoire I can relate a universal theme to each of them. And this brings me back to Idries Shah’s description of Nasrudin stories. While my stories may have seemed superficial to me they still held a deeper universal theme. And as I grow as a storyteller, I hope I can appreciate that little extra that is inherent in the stories.

Learn more about Diana here.

The image of Nasrudin at the top of the post can be found here.

Leaning In to the Affirmative Coaching Process by Stephen Lazer

I came into this class suspicious of the affirmative coaching process. This is not to say I looked down upon it or thought negatively of it. It is, simply, far from how I usually think of providing or receiving feedback and wanted to see it in action. I can say that the affirmative coaching process has won me over.

Before presenting my first story about my grandparents and their clock, I was concerned it wasn’t going to be very good. I had never told a “personal story” in the way we mean that term in this class. I still wasn’t entirely sure what a personal story was. We’d had two weeks of introduction, sure, so I understood the theory and the concept, but I didn’t yet really know. I generally don’t feel comfortable with a new activity or a new practice until I’ve completed it at least once. There are so many ways to prepare stories, and so many ways to tell them. Was I actually doing it the right way for me? I knew I shouldn’t write it out like a script, but I always do when lecturing. Sure, some of my lecture “notes” are a few bullet points only, but at least there’s something to hold on to and to look at if I feel I am getting lost. I knew well the story I wanted to tell, I just didn’t know if it would come out the way I wanted it to.

Having others go before me, most if not all of whom had already taken storytelling classes, was a huge help for me. I learned I didn’t have to worry about how long the story was; stories had taken between 5 and over 15 minutes to that point. I learned—because hearing and reading the lesson wasn’t enough, I needed to see it—that all the different ways one could tell a story were welcome. And I learned that I didn’t really have to worry about the outcome. All the stories were good and all the comments were positive and supportive. What really struck me was how often a teller was worried about a tic or some other habit, and we not only didn’t mind it, we generally believed it helped the story by lending it authenticity.

So when I went to tell my first story, I was nervous but not worried. I could feel confident that my classmates would be genuinely supportive. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that basic comfort took a weight off of my shoulders. I could relax because even if the story wasn’t perfect, it was still my story. If I forgot some elements, there had been other short stories. If I rambled, there had been other long stories. Not every element of a story has to contribute to the bottom line as long as it adds color. That comfort allowed my story to flow as if I were in a normal social setting, and therefore I did not need any notes. The Affirmative Coaching Process allowed me to just talk. And I’m very good at that.

Let the Story Do the Work by Liz Warren

In the early days of the Storytelling Institute, I was practicing a story with my colleague, Ricardo Provencio. When the story was over, Pro said, “Well, you have at least three endings to that story. I suggest you pick the one that doesn’t tell people how to feel.” He made me laugh, but he was right, and his advice has stayed with me.

Telling our listeners how to feel about a story or spelling out exactly what the story means to us, is a temptation that most of us face as storytellers.

We want to be sure that our intent is heard.

We want to be sure that the listeners truly understand the message and meaning of the story.

We want to manage both the story and listeners’ experience of it.

I think this most often reflects how deeply we care about the story and its importance to us. We intend to honor the subject of the story as we understand it, so we instruct our listeners on how to feel and think.

We shouldn’t do that without thinking very carefully about what it means for the story. At the very least when we state the meaning of a story we are veering into other narrative genres – lectures, speeches, and sermons. Beyond that, when we explicitly tell listeners what to think or feel we are tacitly communicating that we don’t trust them, or that we don’t trust the story, or that we don’t trust our own ability to construct a story.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t know what the story means to us. We should. We need to have a clear intent in constructing and telling a story. The key is in the construction. We build the story to communicate our intent so that we don’t have to state it explicitly. That is where the artistry comes into our job as storytellers. We bring all our skills to bear in creating a story and then we let the story do the work.

One very effective way to do this is to have the characters in the story speak the message. Laura Rutherford did this at the end of her story “Stop the Trains” about the harbor pilot who was blamed for the Halifax Explosion in 1917. In her research, Laura learned that he was not at fault. But she didn’t say that. She had him say it to his daughter at the end of the story. “You did nothing wrong . . . and neither did I.” The rest of her story was constructed to support that statement, so we went away with the understanding she intended.

Establishing the historical, social, and personal contexts in which a person lived is another effective way to direct listeners to a particular point of view about their deeds. Sometimes our research will reveal actual statements by the subject of the story that we can incorporate in the story to communicate our intent. Other times we can build up a sufficient understanding of the person to create dialogue for the story that is supported by our research into the context and events of the person’s life and accomplishments.

We can’t control what the stories we tell mean to people or how they are understood. Even stating explicitly what we think a story is supposed to mean doesn’t insure that. Better to do the hard work of building a story and letting the story do the work.

(The photo at the top of the post shows me with Ricardo Provencio and Don Doyle in Pine Arizona for Tellabration in 2008.)

A Different Viewpoint by Elizabeth Wunsch

“Do remember a time when you were lost?”

That was a storytelling prompt that stood out for me. It triggered a memory. Of Brooklyn summer vacations at my Grandparent’s house. Of being three - four years old. Taking a trip to Coney Island. A big white beach umbrella with red roses that saved me from being forever lost.

But, what is this story really about?  How do I approach its crafting? Was it about my Grandparent’s warnings not to wander? Stay close to the umbrella that shaded our beach site or “you’ll be lost forever!” Was it about my uncontrolled curiosity and rambunctious nature illustrated as I rode the subway to Coney Island and ran down the seedy boardwalk in delight? Or was it about my need to be as close as I could to the ocean waves?

Surely it is a combination of all these things, but that would be an epic tale. I want to chisel down and craft the story from one of theses points of view, all of which revolve around that white umbrella covered in red roses. I thought about this in the days after the class prompt. I recognized many points in my journey that correlated with these different points of view. The story was beginning to find its needed viewpoint.

I went to the closet in my garage. I brought out the yellow plastic cased item. It was old and I was careful as I pulled it from its yellow case. A 68 year old white beach umbrella covered with red roses. In perfect shape except for some aging at it’s edges. It was delicate but strong. Vibrant. Beautiful. As I gazed at it I realized that maybe this story is about something else.

I will let this story percolate a bit as I look deeper within myself. A new realization. A new point of view  that will guide this story to its telling completion.

I Found a Lake by Rebecca Love

When I was taking the STO297 class, Creating and Telling Personal Stories, I wrote a blog post about how I lost a lake. This is my follow-up, because the lake has been found!

I wanted to tell a story about my paternal grandmother’s summer lake house in Connecticut. I very clearly remembered the body of water being called Pinehurst Lake. But when I was trying to do research to craft the story, I couldn’t find Pinehurst Lake. Not anywhere. I crafted my lake house story anyway, told it in class, and wrote my blog post reflection about the lost lake.

And though the Personal Stories class was over, I couldn’t let the missing lake go. The desire to craft a better story for my family gave me the motivation to start digging through half a dozen boxes of unorganized family photos hastily collected from my mother’s apartment when she passed away in 2016. I hadn’t been able to face those jumbled boxes of pictures for several years, but I knew there would be photos of the lake house in the chaos. Maybe I would get lucky and there would be signage in a picture, or my mother would have written a relevant caption on the back of a photo.

I didn’t get a definitive answer about the missing lake from the photos, but there were some clues, and I decided to bring the lake house pictures with me when I visited fellow storyteller and writer, Mindy Tarquini, for lunch.

It was Mindy who found the lake! It turns out that Mindy is a whiz at Ancestry.com, and she was able to find my grandfather’s obituary from 1958. And lo and behold – he was part of the Pinehurst Lake Association. It turns out that the body of water was renamed Hartland Pond, and that’s why I couldn’t find it.

I was thrilled to know that my often-faulty memory was accurate in this case. I was so deeply disappointed that I might never be able to take my husband and son to see this place from my childhood that meant so much to me. But now I have the lake back. I’ve even found a Vrbo house for rent on the same lake, just a few lots down from where my grandmother’s house was (https://www.vrbo.com/82175). I’m looking forward to a future family vacation there, swimming, canoeing, and fishing in the water from my childhood.

Storytelling and the wonderful people in our storytelling community gave me back a piece of my family history. Crafting my story for class, telling it, and getting encouraging feedback from my classmates changed me. I don’t know if I would have been so determined to keep pushing to figure out the lake mystery without that support. I truly appreciate all the gifts storytelling has given me.

The Sacred is Personal by Rebecca Love

When I signed up for the Sacred Stories class, I didn’t really know what I was in for. Would we be examining sacred texts from the major world religions and telling stories featured in those texts? Like examining living mythology? I had a lot of trepidation about what might be expected. Religion can be such a hot-button issue.

But what I found is that the sacred is highly personal and individualized. For some, those stories in sacred texts are very personal. Others find sacredness in remembering people who have passed on, or in sentimental objects, or in inspirational personal stories they’ve heard. Others are touched by traditional oral stories from many different cultures, and others feel a personal connection to the natural world around us.

The idea that what is sacred is flexible and defined by each individual gave me a sense of safety and belonging. I don’t follow an organized religion, so I was worried I wouldn’t really have a place in the Sacred Stories class. But after being immersed in so many ways to celebrate what is sacred to each classmate, I actually feel more connected. It’s that old power of story to build bridges and point out how humanity is more alike than different that I’ve seen over and over again in class.

I feel empowered now to use the word sacred in reference to myself and those ideas and memories that hold deep meaning for me. 

Storytellers as Listeners by Nereyda Martinez

If you have experienced Storytelling yourself, you probably have heard the phrase, "The story chooses you." I had heard it many times and it did make sense to me. You're going to tell a story that calls to you, that interests you, that you connect with. This part I understood very well. It wasn't until recently when I discovered the magic behind that phrase. I like to call it magic, anyway.

I was asked to be a presenter at a 4th Trimester Conference and the session would be Motherhood Storytelling. I was going to teach mothers how to tell their story in a way that empowered that and also could support other mothers on their journey. I was excited and nervous. This was my first time. However, Liz Warren, is the best cheerleader and I was feeling pretty confident. The only part where I was literally losing sleep over was that I could not figure out what story I was going to tell. 

I had a very busy week leading up to the conference. It only made sense that I tell a story I had told before. Yet, a story about my son that I had not yet told but have always wanted to tell kept popping into my head. Over and over. I would entertain the idea and then think, "Nope. This is a bad idea. I don't have time to craft a new story."

The days went on and I would stay up incredibly late looking at the slideshow I had created hoping that I was able to magically know the story I was going to tell. The night before came, and I decided to go to bed still not knowing what I was going to tell. Nonetheless, as I was going to bed that night, I started to really entertain the thought of possibly just telling the story of my son that I had not told before. 

I woke up super early that morning (I had only slept a few hours) and started writing out my thoughts. I started putting pieces together like a puzzle. Then I started to talk about the story and then I started to work in some crafting. My husband woke up and asked, "So how do you feel about your story?" I immediately answered, "I'm working on it right now!" He looked at me with a confused look and just let me be. 

I did it. I told the story. The story that I didn't think I would have enough time for. The story that kept popping into my head and I was trying to push away. 

After my presentation, a mother came up to me and said, "Your story about your son was literally like my story! I can't believe all the similarities and I want to talk to you more about it." 

That's when I knew. "OH. The story was for you."

This is the part where that magic that I was talking about comes in. The story wanted to be told for her. It's one of those things that you don't need to explain. You just surrender and trust and let the story do its magic through you.

Maybe as the storyteller, we are also the listeners. We are listening within to know what story wants to be shared through us. 

(The picture at the top of the post show's Nereyda presenting at the 4th Trimester Conference.)

Good Trouble by Melanie Beikman

As we learn about tricksters I keep coming back to the memory of a talk I heard by theology professor Miguel De La Torre. Rather than tricksters as villains who appear in cautionary tales, Dr. De La Torre draws inspiration from the tricksters in Latino folklore. In the face of overwhelming poverty and injustice across the world and, in particular, in the community he comes from, he proposes a theology that responds to that oppression.  

 

In doing so he is inspired by the tricksters from Latino and Indigenous cultures - Coyote, Pepito, Juan Bobo and Elegua. 

For Dr. De La Torre, tricksters provide examples of how to mess with (he uses a more profane word), the system.  So tricksters show people how to fight back with acts of defiance and even humor that turn the lens back on the authorities who were not acting in the way they publicly profess to act. He cites the example of “The Garbage Offensive” staged by a group of Puerto Rican youth who called themselves The Young Lords. In New York in 1969, they protested the Sanitation Department’s lack of trash pickup in their neighborhood by transferring bags of garbage to block traffic. After many weeks and escalating protest, they were successful in bringing services to their neighborhoods.

 

I can’t claim a connection to the culture but I appreciate his theology with a trickster ethic. I also appreciate the organizations that mess with the powers that be, and I cheer when they win. 

 

Arizona Interfaith Power and Light (AZIPL), with Rev. Doug Bland leading, garnered attention when they protested SRP’s coal-fired power plants by holding a Coal-Ash Wednesday worship service, anointing worshipers’ foreheads with coal ash in front of the SRP Headquarters. And with the Climate Crisis being a touchy topic for many congregations, Doug brought humor and lightheartedness to the topic with “Eco-fessionals”: portable confessional boxes where one could confess their ecological sins.

 

In Georgia, a sister organizations of AZIPL was frustrated that for years the surcharges on tire fees were being diverted from the Solid Waste Trust Fund to the state General fund. Fees were buffering the state’s coffers instead of being used for environmental clean-up in low income communities as required. In protest the activists built a conspicuous tower of old tires in front of the state capitol. Public outrage at the diversion of funds forced the government to start restoring polluted sites in once-neglected neighborhoods. 

 

Sometimes tricksters get into “good trouble”.

 

—

View Dr. De La Torre’s talk at the Arizona Faith Network 2022 Annual Gathering here.

The picture at the top of the post shows Doug Bland in his "eco-fessional."

Experiencing the Shahnameh by Dale McKinnon

On Thursday, April 6, 2023, I sat in a folding, auditorium-style chair to listen to Diana Dinshaw’s telling of the epic Persian story Shahnameh (“Book of Kings”). It is a habit of mine to take a couple of Advil before having to sit for more than ten minutes on an uncomfortable seat. At the end of Diana’s telling, I realized I had been transported into a world I didn’t know existed, and I wanted to know why I had never heard of the Shahnameh. As I remarked to myself, my derriere didn’t hurt. And, I wanted to know more about the culture and the author of this remarkable epic poem that begins in the time of myth and tells the story of four generations of fathers and sons from the creation of the world to historical facts of the Muslim conquests of the seventh century. And I wanted to know about Ferdowsi, the only author of this stunning epic.

All of the history I learned during my elementary and secondary education was history of the Americas, from conquistadores to US Marines in Cuba, and the two wars, Revolutionary and Civil. At least in English class, I got to read War and Peace (Tolstoy), Don Quixote (Cervantes), and Tale of Two Cities (Dickens). I was rather smug to know how literate I was. And as I listened to Diana continue to tell us of the epic adventures of the fathers and sons of Persia, its kings and princes racing their horses through deserts, valleys and forests, I gathered up the smug child in me and realized how very, very, big and rich in history and literature the rest of the world is. Particularly that part of the world that our country has been bombing, invading and tracking jihadists for the past half century. Iran, Azerbaijan, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, and the greater region of historical Persian culture, Armenia, Dagestan, Georgia, Turkey, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan, all celebrate the Shahnameh as their national epic.

Its sole author, Ferdowsi, created this epic in thirty years, writing over 50,000 lines of 22 syllables with two rhyming couplets in the same meter. It was first published in 1010 and published in English in 1832. There have been many attempts to translate the Shahnameh into English, and some of the translations have conveyed the tragedy and beauty of single stories of the original, but unable to duplicate the brilliance of the “Early New Persian” rhyming schema in its entirety.

As I walked back to my car after Diana’s epic telling, I became aware that I had been also riding through the desert, or with family during feasts, or in deep grief with a father who unknowingly mortally wounds his son in battle, only to have that son reveal who he is just before his last breath. My derriere and back felt surprisingly well. The story was an epic distraction! Thank you, Diana!

Sources: https://iranicaonline.org/articles/sah-nama-translations-iii-English#:~:text=Ferdowsi's%20name%2C%20along%20with,poetry%2C%20compared%20Ferdowsi%20to%20Homer

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shahnameh

The image at the top of the post can be found here.

The Me of Now by Donna Martin

I enrolled in the sacred storytelling course (STO288) as means to find my way back to storytelling. A traumatic car accident left me feeling adrift in a world that I could not recognize with a repertoire I could not remember – connections were scrambled or just gone.  I wanted to find my way back to the storytelling that is "the me of now" versus "the me of before" (before the accident).

Before taking sacred storytelling, and post-accident, I was hesitant to review my body of work around sacred stories. I had spent the last 11 years telling sacred stories from the Abrahamic traditions among various faith communities. While these tellings were always well received, I questioned their value outside these communities of faith. After the first class meeting, I was very ambivalent about telling these stories in class. Several classmates' stated opinions about sacred stories went right to the root of my fears as the teller – the stories are often derided by adults as irrelevant, boring, and lifeless. I lacked confidence in my work, in my ability to bring these ancient stories to life, and in the stories’ relevance for today's world. 

It is my experience that sacred stories find me – I don't look for the story. And, typically, I struggle with a story for some time, as the stories that find me often are not stories I would choose. As I ponder the story, research it, play with images, and wonder why the story is calling me, the story comes home – sits in "the me of now." It is a mystical, liminal "thing" that I find myself craving, seeking, and relishing. 

Admittedly, each time I prepared a sacred story for telling in class I encountered a roller coaster of emotions complete with tears, a-ha moments, and a few moments of pure bliss. I continually waffled on what to tell, how to tell, and even why I tell. Sigh.

And yet . . . as a result of completing the sacred storytelling course, I now recognize that my work is representative of sacred storytelling. I am "re-finding" confidence in my work, especially around the scholarship that is uniquely "the me of now." And, miracle of miracles, I find myself looking forward to what lies ahead, with a welcomed curiosity around “the me of now” storytelling. It is pure bliss to rejoin the unique storytelling community that is South Mountain Storytelling Institute.

Growing Hope through Storytelling by Melissa Fees

Stories have always been a time-honored means to teach, inspire and entertain others. More recently, neuroscientists are studying the effects of storytelling on the brain. In this case, personal stories are read to students while their brain is being scanned. These functional MRI studies give us a glimpse into what parts of the brain are firing when we are listening and processing personal stories.

Dr. Immordino-Yang’s presented a talk entitled “We feel, therefore we learn” at the 2011 Mind and Its Potential Conference. Her conclusion is that our biological bodies and social minds are completely integrated. Today neuroscientists are helping us understand what is happening in our brains when we hear stories of struggle and resilience of real people.

The work of Dr. Mary Helen Immordino-Yang of the University of Southern California showed the results of fMRI scans of people who had heard these types of stories and what part of the brain had increased blood flow. The results showed that the very systems that keep us alive like the medulla, the insula, and the mid-brain were activated. When people say they felt something in their gut when they heard a compelling story, they were telling the truth. 

Her work has also demonstrated that when teenagers hear stories about the resilience of others they report being inspired, even hopeful about their own future. She stated in a webinar for The Center for Scholars and Storytellers in 2019 that “. . . Hope is an interpretation that you construct. Hope itself is a story you tell yourself about the possible spaces in the future. . .”  Her lab is continuing to study the individual differences in how people create hope for their own future after listening to inspiring stories of others. Meanwhile, we storytellers will keep on crafting inspiring stories for all ages.

How Stories Don't Get Old - They just Develop Roots by Sharon Gilbert

I began my official storytelling journey in 2006 and received my storytelling certificate in 2010. So, I have been developing stories for a long time.

Recently I took another storytelling class, this time on zoom. Sacred Storytelling From Around the World, and while I was developing my last story to tell, I realized that many  personal stories are indeed sacred stories.

I knew that family stories or personal stories were going to be some of the stories I developed over the years but in the beginning most of the personal stories I told  were along the lines of a Donald Davis story with a little funny twist at the end. But always, in the back of my mind there was a desire to unravel my relationship with my mother through story. My aunts told me that my mother was painfully shy, but through my growing up years I experienced her as a stern mother who seldom shared her stories or her emotions. I was greedy for every little tidbit she told me about her childhood but what I had to build on were only crumbs. In one of my Personal Storytelling classes I told a short story that was more of an anecdote than a story and I ended up shelving it for a little over ten years. I was unaware that this was going to become the story I was trying to tell.

Storytelling is more powerful than the public believes and even if you value and understand what a treasure storytelling is, once you begin telling,  you just keep building  and learning. The more you learn and the more you practice your craft the more you understand how to take a personal story and share while keeping your audience safe, how to really think about the points that will be universal and valuable to them. My recent experience taught me that a story lying at rest is worth revisiting, it hasn’t just been collecting dust, it’s been growing roots.

So, my advice is if you're taking a storytelling class, keep taking them now and then, and if you have a little bit of a story don't throw it away, keep that idea and let it grow roots. 

"Pick me, pick me!" by Diana Dinshaw

How often have you heard someone say, “I didn’t pick the book, the book picked me.”?  If you are a storyteller you have probably had the same experience where the story that wanted to be told kept whispering in your ear, “Pick me, pick me.”

I started the 2023 Spring Semester in which I was taking the course, Sacred Stories with a goal and a preconceived idea. 

Goal: Retell stories from my repertoire

Preconceived Idea: What Sacred Stories are. Hence, I had already picked the stories from my repertoire that I was going to tell during the semester; Legend of St. Christopher, Folktale of the Woodcutter and (Archangel) Behram Yazad, and the Myth of Baldr the Beautiful. 

You may notice that personal stories did not make the cut. 

I decided to tell the story of the Woodcutter and (Archangel) Behram Yazad as my first story. But a personal story started whispering to me, “Tell me, tell me.” I kept pushing it aside because it didn’t fit my preconceived idea of what a sacred story is; sacred stories are religious stories and stories of belief.  The sound not only started getting louder and louder but while I would be practicing the story of the Woodcutter I would all of a sudden start thinking about parts of the personal story I had told almost a year ago for Mother’s Day. It was time to surrender.

So, I dug out the storyboard for my story, “I Am My Mothers” and saw it with fresh eyes. It was no more just a story about three women who had cared for and nurtured me. The story allowed me to deeply reconnect with the love of each of these women; my aya (nanny) Taro, my Katy mummy, and my mother, Arnavaz. After all, what is more sacred than love?

Building My Personal Repertoire: Finding Sacred Stories by Bryce Barraza

Are you thinking about adding a ‘sacred’ story to your repertoire? If so, then you and I are in the same boat . . . and I certainly appreciate your good company!

Recently, as part of a storytelling course, I have been learning and practicing how to better interpret stories and their sacred elements with the intent to add more stories to my personal repertoire.

As a novice, I think I am achieving some success in finding ‘sacred’ stories that I want to better learn, craft, and add to my repertoire. With that said, I wanted to offer some information that I found helpful in my learnings and practice for your consideration. 

Hope this helps!

What’s Your Definition of Sacred?

‘Sacred’ is referring to a specific type of story. Sacred stories are those that involve the subjects of life, death, the continuity of generations, and how we relate to others and the world.

Additional characteristics of sacred stories to consider include:

• Explain the world: sacred stories teach about how the world, animals and humans were created, and why humans do what we do. (E.g., Creation myths and pourquoi stories) These teachings more likely were at one point in time believed to be universal truth –or may be considered fact today.
• Codify beliefs, cultural norms, and behaviors: sacred stories may be used as integral parts of cultural and religious rituals, teach lessons of morality and other rules, and can encourage adherence to certain practices and behaviors.
• Transcend cultures and time: the morals of sacred stories apply no matter when in time the story takes place, and the moral is applicable across many cultures.

Sacred can also mean different things for individual storytellers. That is not to say ‘sacred’ is completely subjective –however, it recognizes that you personally may be drawn to certain sacred stories more so than others. And it’s helpful to reflect on why you gravitate to a particular story as you develop your own interpretation of sacred.

In my attempt to develop my definition of ‘sacred,’ I took to reading multiple myths and other traditional stories, and subsequently made a list of the stories that I liked. Once I had a list of ‘likes,’ I identified common themes, morals, and story types that –for whatever reasons –I naturally gravitate.

Picking A Story: Do You Like the Story? Like, Really, Really Like It?

When working to identify sacred stories to add to my personal repertoire, I ask myself the below questions in sequential order about each story under consideration.

• Do I like the story? Like really, really like it?

The first step of my review process when determining to add a story to my repertoire is to ask the question, “Do I like the story? Like really, really like it?” In other words, I want to be “delighted” and have a strong “desire” to tell the story in efforts to ensure a stronger delivery. When a storyteller is “delighted” by their selection of the story, the storyteller will have a stronger “desire” to share and communicate the story with the audience. An increased “delight” of the selected story, and an enhanced “desire” to share the story, produces a stronger “delivery” of the story.  (Warren, L. 2008)

• Does this story communicate one of my core values I consider as sacred?

Storyteller Laura Packer explains that the authenticity of a storyteller includes sharing stories that represent their core values. So, knowing your definition of ‘sacred’ will help you identify stories that can help communicate your interpretation of values you consider sacred.

• Do I have a personal experience to help anchor the story?

For me, I like to have a personal experience that I can relate to the moral of the story. Now, this is not to say I have personal experiences that directly tie to the plot of the myths of ancient Gods and Goddesses such has being struck by the golden or lead arrow of Cupid or Eros, but I can directly relate to the human experience of infatuation, love, and indifference.   

Research The Story

Once I find a story that I like –like really, really like –I spend time doing a little research.

A few notes on what I attempt to accomplish when conducting research:

• Learn the Story’s Origin and Current Use: What is known about where the story came from? Are there similar stories in other cultures? Is the story still used in cultural or religious rituals today? Is it appropriate for me to craft and tell this story, given the cultural origins and current use?
• Note the Similarities and Differences: Read different versions of the same story. Reviewing multiple versions of the same story may help identify critical characters to include and similar plot elements to structure a newly crafted version. Alternatively, identifying differences in plot or imagery used can support ‘creative license’ when crafting a new version, and differences may also serve as other points of research to better understand why versions vary.
• Leverage the Imagery: The reoccurring images are probably in there for a reason. So, take note and google it. I try to notice nature and earth elements referenced (e.g., specific plants or trees; herbs and spices; or reference to water, wind, fire.) I also try to trace the geographic locations referenced in older stories to modern-day locations –which may assist with physical descriptions of setting and provide a sense of cultural history associated with the location. You may also want to try to learn if there is significance to specific numbers or colors referenced.
• Read, Listen and Watch: I gain value in reading multiple versions of the same story. But auditory and visual examples can also be helpful. Therefore, I also search whether other storytellers have publicly published recorded audio or video of their telling of the story (e.g., I’m Telling Podcast or YouTube). Listening and watching other storytellers tell the same story (or different stories) helps me better hone my techniques –and serves as inspiration as I continue to practice my storytelling.

Reference:

Bascom, W. (1954). Four Functions of Folklore. The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 67 (266), Pg.339-349.

Packer, L. (2019). From Audience to Zeal: The ABCs of Finding; Crafting and Telling a Great Story, Pg. 9,Appropriation; Pg. 13, Authenticity; Pg. 120, Research; Pg. 139, Sourcing.

Warren, L. (2008). The Oral Tradition Today: An Introduction to the Art of Storytelling, Ch. 2.

Finding Who You Are by Lauren Besich

I recently read a book called Island Wisdom that explored the question, “what does it mean to be Hawaiian?”  To answer this question the authors used the themes of Aloha (deep, innate love), ‘Ᾱina (the land), Mo’olelo (the art of storytelling), and ‘Ohana (the family) to paint a picture of the Hawaiian culture.  Storytelling serves many purposes in Hawaiian culture.  As a culture rooted in oral tradition, storytelling was how they passed down their knowledge, connected with family members, and preserved their history through the dancing of hula (which I learned is a sacred storytelling art in Hawaii). There is a saying that goes, “Know who you were so you can know who you are.”  We need to know the generations of people that populate our family tree, because their stories are our creation myths. 

Since I love the theme of “finding who you are,” let us explore how knowing the stories of our ancestors helps us find meaning in our lives.  Moana is a story about a young woman who lives on an island that she is prohibited from leaving.  As the chief’s daughter, and next in line to govern the island, her dad makes it very clear that no one sails beyond the reef because it is too dangerous.  However, their island is dying, and the solution lies in far away places.  Her sweet grandmother prompts Moana to accept her call to save the island and journey beyond the reef to do so.  She leads Moana to the revelation that her ancestors were voyagers, and with this knowledge of who she was, Moana is able to complete the difficult task of saving the island, and presumably the rest of the world.  Knowledge of her ancestor’s stories helped her know who she was to become—a voyager once again. 

Another favorite story of mine is the tale of Elsa in the movie Frozen.  She was born with powers that seemed to her shameful, after inadvertently harming her sister with them.  She spent her youth trying to hide them from her community and her sister.  After accidentally exposing her powers on her coronation day as Queen of Arendelle, she ran away.  The mystery of her powers continued to haunt her until she learned that her mother was from the Northuldra tribe in the Enchanted Forest.  Once she learned stories from her mother’s childhood, Elsa finally understood her powers, saved her people, and realized her purpose.  Again, knowing the stories of her ancestors brought meaning to her life. 

As for me, I recently lost my grandmother.  I know some basics about her life, but I feel like I’m missing the pieces that give me a clear picture of who I have been.  How did my grandma handle raising four kids after her divorce? Why did she never remarry? What led her to become a travel agent? What did she love about growing up in Tennessee? What was her favorite flower? What kind of friend was she? Did she have a midlife crisis?  I have so many questions, but now I have to get the answers from secondary sources.  Thankfully I’ve not been tasked with saving the world by discovering my family secrets, but I do hope to leave more stories for my children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren to know who they were, so they can know who they are.  

Image Credit: "She Will Find What is Lost" by Brian Kershisnik

 

Sacred Flowers by Kathy Eastman

This winter all our lovely rains have resulted in a profusion of wildflowers.  The attached picture is from my front yard.  The flowers with their rare beauty are bringing me so much pleasure!  While spending time enjoying all the flowers and pulling weeds, I was listening and watching all the pollinators.  It was only natural for me to think about the sacred nature of flowers.   Life as we know it on planet earth is based on the ability of plants to convert sunshine into chlorophyll.  Our civilization and agricultural practices depend on flowers and their codependent pollinators.  The first reason flowering plants are sacred is because they provide our primary sources of food, fiber and medicine. Most of the plant material we consume is from flowering plants including fruits, veggies and grains.  Here in the southwest cotton is a famous fiber plant.  And, the medicinal properties (and corresponding devastation) are well known for the opium poppy. 

The second reason I find flowering plants sacred is the co-evolution of flowers and pollinators.  Of course, there have not always been flowering plants, it is thought they first evolved about 130 million years ago.  Even in our current times, there are still many examples of non-flowering plants.  Think of the spore producers, such as ferns.  Flowering plants make an extraordinary investment in time and energy producing flowers.  The flowers are for sexual reproduction and seed formation.  Really, plants have the most exotic sexual habits and often require participation of pollinators.   This year’s profuse blooms are attracting pollinators of all sorts, and the desert is singing with their activities. Thank goodness!  Life as we know it would not exist without flowers! 

Beyond their direct utilitarian uses, flowering plants are the basis for our spiritual, artistic and literary endeavors. The third reason flowers are scared is the powerful metaphors they represent in our lives. Whether you are consciously thinking about it or not, flowers are present at most of our major life transitions.  The rose alone is used to represent romance, love, beauty, courage, friendship, desire, appreciation, sincerity, appreciation and innocence.  In Buddhism the eastern lotus flower speaks of purity and spiritual growth.  Since it is Easter season, think of the white lily with its association with the Virgin.  For the non-secular, think of sunflowers “with their uncanny ability to lock you into its stare”.  Shakespeare used a myriad of flowers as metaphors.   Culturally, the Dutch are famous for tulips. 

In some creation myths flowers are not metaphors, but the very source of creation.  For example, in ancient Egypt the day blooming blue lotus appeared at the beginning of creation.  Brahma the Hindu god of creation emerges from an eastern lotus flower.  Flowers are a powerful source of life and have the power of transformation.  You only need to step outside to see the amazing colors and profusion of flowers.  The flowers are all dressed up and not going anywhere, because they are the party.  Find a moment and enjoy the gifts of sacred flowers. 

Author note:  I referenced material from internet sources and the book:  Seven Flowers and How They Shaped the World by Jennifer Potter.  

Acknowledging the Land by Doug Bland

“In order to restore the land, we must re-story it.”

---Gary Paul Nabhan

Land acknowledgements have become common practice as a way to honor past, present, and future contributions of Indigenous people.  Here in Maricopa County, we occupy the unceded lands of the Akimel O'odham and Pee-Posh people.

Collectively, the Akimel O’odham and Pee Posh call themselves the People of the River, both the Gila River, which flows into the Colorado River, and the Salt River which flows into the Gila.

The Akimel O’odham have been here in this place thousands of years.  They are the northernmost group of the O’odham family, which includes the Hia C-ed O’odham – the People of the Sand – and the Tohono O’odham – the People of the Desert. Together, the O’odham are the people of the Sonoran Desert, which encompasses part of northern Sonora, Mexico and most of southern and Central Arizona.

The word Arizona comes from an O’odham word meaning “many springs”.  

The Pee-Posh moved here from their traditional home further south on the Colorado River sometime in the 1500s as an alternative to enduring ongoing attacks from the Mojave and Quechan peoples.  In the 1800s a formal alliance was made and the Akimel O’odham invited the Pee-Posh to be of this place, too.

Today, these peoples co-exist on the Gila River Indian Community, a sovereign nation of around 20,000 residing on around 375,000 acres, and the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community, a federally recognized tribal community of around 10,000 residing on a little over 50,000 acres.  There are more than twenty federally recognized Indian Communities in Arizona, and more than a quarter of Arizona land is tribal land.

Spanish colonizers who came into this place in the 16^th century are the ones who called the Akimel O’odham the “Pima” and the Pee Posh the “Maricopa”.  I live in Maricopa County. My in-laws live in Pima County.  

As People of the River, the Akimel O’odham and Pee-Posh relied on river water to irrigate their farm crops.  But as early as 1868, their farmers started reporting unexpected water shortages. The cause of these shortages was that settlers from the United States were moving into the upper parts of the Gila River and diverting Akimel O’odham and Pee-Posh water without consideration of the native communities downstream.  

At about the same time, in the 1870s, other mostly Anglo-European settlers were also starting to farm in the Salt River Valley where Tempe and Phoenix are now.  There were no active Akimel O’odham and Pee-Posh communities in the Salt River Valley at that particular time; when the settlers found the eroded walls of multi-story homes, plazas, granaries, and outdoor ballcourts from what had been a thriving community, they were quick to call them ruins and attribute them to an ancient, long-gone people.  When the settlers also found nearly 600 miles of irrigation canals created by the ancestors of the O’odham, they immediately started putting those canals to use for their own farming, without making a connection to or an acknowledgement of the existing native communities.  

There was a time when the O’odham Tribes completely disappeared - hence the word “Huhugam”, which is the label for this period when the O’odham suddenly packed up and left.  

By the beginning of the 20^th century water shortages and crop failures were so common that the People of the River begin to go hungry and many starved.  As one way to feed their families, they cut 100,000 acres of mature mesquite trees on the reservation to sell as firewood to get money to buy food.  In 1925, an irrigation project that was supposed to restore water to the Akimel O’odham and the Pee Posh ended up effectively drying up the Gila River.  After that, the People of the River went to court, and in 2004 – after nearly 80 years in court and nearly 150 years of active resistance and self-advocacy – the Gila River Indian Community won a decisive Water Rights Settlement – one of the largest in U.S. history – access to over 650,000 acre feet of water annually.

(The image at the top of the post is the great seal of the Gila River Indian Community.) 

Woman at the Well of Story by Susan Valiquette

It’s my 53^rd birthday and we are all going to the Moth storytelling event at the Crescent Ballroom in Phoenix. It is a monthly treat for me to listen to the stories of individuals who vulnerably tell their own stories. This month I don’t have to go solo. I was not prepared to put my name in the ‘hat’ and tell a story that evening, even though my friends were encouraging me to do so. I did, however, take on the challenge of writing a story and sharing it with my friends over dinner. I followed the ‘rules’ of Moth. I told a story that was mine and kept to the theme and designated time. The theme was ‘leftovers’. My story was from childhood memories. It was not riveting or even very memorable to my friends, but it would have sparked a lot of memories for my family. It was more a story of nostalgia. My brother took to the story wholeheartedly and responded with enthusiasm in his email reply. This was completely unexpected given that we don’t speak very regularly.

Following my nostalgic story of ‘leftover change,’ he insisted that I ‘do my homework for life’. I had no idea what he was talking about. The next email said, “You gotta read ‘Storyworthy.’” I am still lost which I explain to him. He promises to buy me a copy of the book and have it delivered. It is not reminiscent of my brother. The book arrives and I start reading immediately as I can’t wait to learn what ‘doing my homework’ means.  The author, Matthew Dicks, has won the Moth storytelling like some 35 times. He holds storytelling workshops, and now I am reading his book and learning how to tell a story.

My colleague, Doug, has been modeling and telling me this for some time. “Stop preaching Susan and tell a story.” This is the kind of confidence that I wish I had. After a few classes with Liz Warren and listening to incredible seasoned storytellers, I am led to the conviction that we remember stories, not sermons. How can I be a storyteller too? How can storytelling become more integrated into my preaching? After one opportunity to tell a story in Liz Warren’s class, my confidence grows.

The Sunday’s scripture is the woman at the well. It is my favorite story. I could tell you the story without reading it. I could give you commentary for as long as you could listen. This story is the reason I still believe. So, I imagine everything I can about this woman from the biblical story that has been written and create a story of transformation to replace the sermon. I step forward to the center of the sanctuary, no notes, no script and I begin the story, “Neska had finished all the water the previous day . . .”

The Hero In All by Elizabeth Wunsch

As I am emerged in the stories from my classmates, I feel honored as I recognize the hero’s journeys of each of their lives. And through each of their stories i am introduced to their challenges, strengths and adventures. All so different yet intrinsically tied to one another. Many generations represented, each wrapped in a filter that allows a sameness to appear differently.

We are all in each others stories, finding a spot in each others journey. An illumination into our psyches and truths. An understanding of the stories we want to tell but are unable to, or the sudden volume turned up on rumblings within that have a need to emerge, be crafted and spoken. Joy, laughter, strength, heartache, tears, forgiveness.

Journeys in story that provide a sense of oneness to each other and the generations that came before us.

It is an honor to be part of this.

A Proud Storytelling Novice by Louis Soto

I am a novice at storytelling. I say this not in lack of confidence, instead I say it proudly. I don’t have much experience in telling stories in public, or in an academic setting. That did not stop me from telling my first story. In fact, it is very natural to feel apprehensive about doing any academic, or personal work that may require you to speak. Let me tell you why you should consider exploring telling stories.

 Stories have great abilities to transport you to far off places. They aid in understanding a different point of view. They can even teach you about another person. Most importantly they can teach you about who you are, and where you are going. One just needs to listen to their heart.

Albert Einstein in 1931 said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” (source) https://quoteinvestigator.com/2013/01/01/einstein-imagination/

Storytelling, whether personal, fact-based, or traditional, calls on you to use your abilities to envision scenarios, plot, narratives, mood, and many descriptive elements that light up the brain. In fact, imagination creates more neurons and allows the brain to heal and develop. Why not use it? Not only to enrich your wellbeing, but to enhance the lives of your audience, friends, and family.

Jaimar Taurez from Neurotray, a website about neuropsychology states, “Imagination is the ability to create, at a cognitive level, images (or scenes) that are not present in the perceptual field of the person who articulates them and can be spiced by the inclusion of elements evoked in any sensory modality. In such a way, it is possible to reproduce situations from the past that not only involve visual content, but also the sensations that accompanied them (positive and negative). It also allows you to explore intangible ideas or concepts, and even combine them to generate innovative products that never existed or were not directly experienced.”

Liz Warren made me do it! What I mean by this is she is always challenging us to express our goals in an academic setting. In my short paragraph about my goals, I state "I have always been an animated type of person and have always created scenarios in my brain that are far-fetched in a real setting but have freedom in a story. Images of castles, spacecrafts, aliens, and fairies in an enchanted forest. These things are dear to me even if they are not quite plausible sometimes. In a story, they become, and they are alive more than ever no matter how far-fetched it is someone is always willing to listen.”

This is when I realized that stories were more than just words on a paper, more than beginning, middle, and end. I realized that stories were helping me understand myself and the world around me. I understand why I keep coming back because my brain is not only learning but healing.

If you’re worried about what storytelling can do for you, don’t be. There will be a moment of tension, there even might be a slight moment of discomfort, but I promise you that once you speak, allow yourself to tell a story. You will become free again. Be a proud novice and use your imagination.

References: Tuarez, Jaimar 2021. Nuerotray “What part of the brain controls imagination?”  Accessed on January 18. 2023. http://neurotray.com//what-part-of-the-brain-controls-imagination/

Make it Visual: Brainstorming Story Ideas by Bryce Barraza

If you’re like me, before you can craft a personal story, you kind of need a story idea. But what if you’re short on ideas? The good news is you have plenty of ideas –you just need to spark your memory to find them! 

Below are a couple of activities and templates that can help you spark memories and document story ideas. Making your ideas visual helps you better reflect on the sequence or location of events, critical crossroads within life, and potential characters of a story idea.

Crossroad Decision Tree

In the book, The Power of Personal Storytelling, Storyteller Jack Maguire offers the ‘Crossroads’ documentation activity. This activity helps identify turning point events or decisions that may have altered your life. The turning points events could represent changes that resulted in positive, negative or a combination of outcomes. This activity initially anchors your mind at a point in time –your age – or ‘when’ an event may have occurred. After brainstorming the turning points, you can then reflect on the characters involved in your life during the event, the resulting sequence of events, and the environment in which a decision or event took place.

For example, when I was 16 years old, my family decided to move from California to Phoenix, Arizona. Upon reflection, the decision was not exactly mine – it was my parents’. Although I have my perspective and understanding as to why we moved, as an adult, I may also want to ask my parents for additional insight as to why they made the decision. This event also introduced a slew of new characters in my life. Immediately following this turning point of moving to a new state, I was enrolled into a new high school and met my two best friends. The memories of this event – how the decision was made, what events happened after the move and the new characters that entered my life – can be the start of a story idea!

Where does your decision tree lead you? Feel free to try the activity using the template in the image at the top of the post!

My Story Influences by Dale McKinnon

Orality is why we are all pursuing the arts of storytelling. I never got to have a storyteller tell stories to my kindergarten and first grade classes. Or second, or third-grade class, or, come to think of it, any class at all. I realize that I first heard stories at home.

But almost all of us have grown up with family stories. I used to think of the stories as familial myths. The first stories in my life were from my father, about Prince Edward Island and Gloucester, Massachusetts, and my mother, about driving across the country in a ’39 coupe, with two children aged six and thirteen, in her fourth month carrying me; four souls to start a new life in San Francisco toward the end of WWII.

Our family storytelling faced strong headwinds with the advent of TV. San Francisco is where television was invented in 1927, but its growth was delayed by the war. By 1950 television sets began to become affordable for middle-class Americans. Six million homes at that time had TV sets. But radio was still the predominant form of mass entertainment and communication across the US since the content of television lacked variety and sophistication. On the radio I listened to 10-to-15-minute comedy sketches of Fibber McGee and Molly and the crime sleuth series, The Shadow. Dave McElhatton (KCBS radio) read the comics of the San Francisco Chronicle. The highlight for me was hearing the ongoing saga of Prince Valiant. However, I became a devotee (at five years old) of the very first animated children’s TV program (1950) called “Crusader Rabbit.” It consisted of 4-minute satirical stories, each with its own title, strung together to create a series.

I grew less fond of TV as it became ubiquitous. I couldn’t adequately articulate my dislike of TV. So, my father introduced me to “foreign” films and regional community theater when I was ten. Films like The Red Balloon, Mon Oncle (My Uncle), Mr. Hulot’s Holiday, Wee Geordie and Tight Little Island informed my puberty and in high school my first boyfriend introduced me to Japanese Cinema and Akira Kurosawa. To this day I love samurai/kung fu movies and popcorn when I just need to be mindless. Here is Yojimbo by Akira Kurosawa.

But it was in June of 1963, shortly after graduating from high school, that I first heard “Bert and I.” “Bert and I” is a collection of relatively short stories (4-20 minutes long) told by Marshall Dodge and Robert Bryan, both Yale graduates, that chronicled the dry humor and quirkiness of the traditional folk of “Down East” Maine, told in a Maine accent. Dodge, the “I”, and Bryan, the “Bert” (Bryan was pastor-pilot that flew to settlements in western Quebec to collect stories and preach the good word) did extensive cultural and story research for “Bert and I” which was syndicated and published and introduced the regionally distinct Maine accent to the world. I am still moved by the dry hilarity of down east humor.

It was the success of “Bert and I” that inspired Garrison Keillor to create the famous Lake Wobegon series that started on radio in 1974. The weekly stories from “Prairie Home Companion” became a national phenomenon of self-deprecating Minnesotans that overestimated their capacities and qualities. At first, I found it funny, but after a while I began to feel uncomfortable hearing the contrived humor and put-downs of ordinary folks that flowed from Keillor’s story writing.

In 1997 Berns and I moved to Bellingham, WA, 25 miles south of the Canadian border, and discovered we could receive CBC (Canadian Broadcast Corporation), Radio One, from Victoria, BC in addition to CBC TV via cable. Every morning we would listen weekdays to Julie Nusrallah (a Canadian mezzo-soprano) host her classical music show, “TEMPO” on CBC Radio One. Forgetting that it was a weekend, I tuned into CBC and heard a man named Stuart McClean telling a story about Dave and Morley and their two kids, on a program called “the Vinyl Café.” I laughed until my eyes teared up. It became a Sunday morning ritual for me and Berns to listen to Vinyl Café.

It was unlike any other radio or TV program I’d ever encountered. And it was the first time I began to understand that relatively short oral stories (and some lengthy ones) could bring warmth and laughter into hundreds of thousands of lives, via radio. Years later I discovered that McClean’s unique storytelling style resulted from his efforts at overcoming a severe stutter in his childhood.

In format, Vinyl Café was a musical variety show with performances that ranged from famous Canadian performers like the McGarrigle Sisters, Gordon Lightfoot and Buffy St. Marie to local performers of the towns and cities to which the Vinyl Café production team traveled. The team consisted of researchers that spent a week ahead of the production crew, interviewing local residents to glean stories about the town, its history and notable citizens. McClean took that research and created stories that became part of the performance with the live local audience often laughing the hardest and loudest when they heard Stuart McClean tell it to all of Canada (and northern US states that could receive the programs). Within the 21-year life of the Vinyl Café there are over 400 episodes (the first in the US was via KUOW of Seattle). One episode actually took place on board the dome observation car of the transcontinental passenger train, The Canadian, replete with a live audience. Sadly, Stuart McClean died in 2016 of melanoma. All of Canada mourned, flags lowered to half-staff for a week.

What McClean did was weave together the various stories of the extremely diverse cultures of Canada, (Quebecois, Athabascan, Iroquois, Inuit, Italian, Scottish, Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Parsi, Buddhist…), and did so in ways that allowed people to laugh at their humanity. McClean said “I have no agenda to spark…I just think there should be a conversation. We have something to learn from each other – we’re very different.” Canada’s favorite fictional family– Dave, Morley their kids, friends and neighbors–became the template to break down cultural isolation and barriers in the long process of assimilation in whatever form that would take and celebrated the tapestry of Canadian life without pompousness or divisiveness. And this is why, I’m now realizing, I am in class learning to tell my stories, thanks to all of you! I leave you with a Christmas story. 

The Power of Storytelling by Nereyda Martinez

On September 10th, 2019, my husband forced me to get out of the house to attend a workshop. It was a workshop held by a nonprofit for its sponsors. My husband had become a Sponsor by providing photography and videography for this nonprofit, so we were invited.

At that point in my life, I couldn’t think clearly. I was in what you would call survival mode. My daughter, who was my second child, was nine months old. I had hardly left the house since having her. I was overwhelmed with now caring for two children while supporting my husband in his growing business. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of my house and talk to strangers. He didn’t even tell me what it was! I basically went in blindfolded.

Well, what do you know? It was such a gift to speak and connect with other adults. We were told to tell stories. I ended up telling a story about how my marriage almost came to an end during my pregnancy with my daughter and how I realized all the work it’s going to take to keep our marriage thriving. It felt SO good to be able to share that part of my life and for the listener to be able to relate. I was also in awe listening to the teller who I partnered with. She told a story of bravery and strength as she had complications after giving birth. I was so moved by this experience.

That was the day I first met Liz Warren. On September 10th, 2019. I had no idea that in December of 2022, three years later, I would be taking my third Storytelling class, Fact-Based Stories. Storytelling has become such an important part of my life, but I never realized it until finally taking my first class with Liz, herself.

You see, I realized, as mothers, we need to share our stories and listen to stories of fellow mothers. This is how we normalize the hard stuff. This is how we connect and don’t feel so lonely through the ups and downs of motherhood. So here I am three years later using social media platforms and mom circles to share stories with other mothers.

And after taking Personal Storytelling, The Art of Storytelling and now Fact-Based Stories, I have become so empowered and motivated to strengthen my skills. Why? Because through these classes, I have witnessed first-hand the impact others’ stories have on us and the power of connecting with others who may have been considered strangers initially but soon after listening to their stories, have become people I deeply care about. They are now people who I see for who they are and have such a loving appreciation for what they’ve lived. They are people whose stories have left an everlasting impact on me. 

That is the power of Storytelling. 

(The image at the top shows Nereyda at the first workshop she attended holding her daughter.)

Mind Your Ps and Cs by Diana Dinshaw

School was a struggle for me. Science, history, literature, geography – you name the subject I struggled. The only subject I did well in was math. I loved theorems. They were logical and there was structure to it. So, when I signed up for fact-based storytelling, I was having flashbacks to history class in school and having to memorize facts that I could not relate to. I should have known better; this was storytelling.

Stories like theorems have structure and sequence and I found myself using the well-known Five Ps story structures to craft my fact-based story. Then I read ‘The Art of the Tale: Story-Telling and History Teaching’ by  David Kennedy.  While reading this I found myself drawing a parallel between the five Cs in addition to the setting that make a good  historical story; Characterization, Connections, Conflict, Change, and Catharsis, and Donald Davis/LynnAnn Wojciechowicz, Five Ps of storytelling; People, Place, Problem, Progress, and Point.

People - Characterization

The first comparison of Characterization and People is quite straightforward. Most of our history is about people. Even when the focus of our fact-based story is a particular event in history, like the Civil Rights movement, the Great Depression, or the Suffrage movement, there are characters who play a role in making the story move forward.

Place - (Context)

David Kennedy in his article has setting of the story in addition to the five Cs. To keep with the iteration of using the letter C I would suggest Context. Where and when the story took place gives cultural and social context to the story that may not have to be explicitly described in the story.

Problem - Conflict

Then of course there is the Conflict or Problem. Again, an easy comparison. The word conflict is used interchangeably with problem when crafting a story. Without conflict we would not have history.

Progress - Catharsis/Change

Kennedy draws the distinction between stories and history in that stories have a happy ending, and a historical narrative may not end in favor of the character that the listener is rooting for. I believe he has misunderstood the meaning of what we storytellers consider Progress in the story structure. Progress means change and bringing the story to a satisfying end. Even though the story may start with "Once upon a time" it doesn't always end with "happily ever after". Storytellers see that so often in myths. When Hades kidnaps Persephone the story doesn’t end with Persephone living happily ever after with Demeter, her mother. But knowing that mother and daughter will be together for half the year brings catharsis to the listeners and resolves the problem.

Point - Connection

This was the hardest comparison for me but after reading again what Kennedy meant by connection it was quite simple to see how that relates to the point of the story. Kennedy in his article states that there are two ways he considers connection. The first is the connection of the character’s story in context to what is happening in history and the second is the connection of characters with other characters in the story. How often have we as storytellers have asked ourselves, “Why do I want to tell this story?” It is the connection we have to the character, the event or how the characters relate to each other is what makes us want to tell the story.  In other words, it is the point of the story that compels us to tell it.

Thomas Carlyle a Scottish historian said, “The history of the world is but the biography of great men.” I would add to this “and women.”

I wonder if I would have enjoyed history as much as I enjoyed math if David Kennedy had been my history teacher.

(The picture in the blog is an open-source picture from pixaby.)

Gwion Tells

I had a dream last night about the Welsh cauldron goddess, Cerridwen, and her two sons. It reminded me of this poem I wrote several years ago about the son who became Taliesin, the greatest of the Welsh bards.

Gwion Tells

Cerridwen had a daughter

A beauty from the start

But her son was so ugly

It almost broke her heart

(He wasn’t a bad or evil guy, just so horrible in appearance that only Cerridwen could bear to look at him.  After I’d worked there for awhile, I got used to him. It was Cerridwen I was afraid of.)

Cerridwen gathered flowers

She gathered dark and light

She spoke her words of power

To make a brew of might

(Gwion Bach – Official Assistant to Herself, aka cauldron boy. Ok - I was the stirrer.  All day.  Every day. For a year and a day. Terrified every minute)

Cerridwen filled her cauldron

With water, earth, and sun

She brewed a wisdom potion

To redeem her monstrous son

(The idea was that this potion would give her son all knowledge, all wisdom – enlightenment.  I don’t know why someone with her power didn’t just make him better looking, but this was what she came up with.)

Cerridwen’s cauldron simmered

I stirred if faithfully

But the wisdom meant for her son

Was all consumed by me

(Accidentally, of course.  I’d been stirring for the year and the day when the nasty stuff spurted up and burned my thumb, I stuck my thumb in my mouth, and well, then I knew everything - seasons, elements, dualities and their resolution, life, death, this world and the next.  And I knew that Cerridwen knew.)

Cerridwen knew my habit

I knew I would be found

I changed into a rabbit

She chased me as a hound

(It was great.  I thought, “I wish I was a rabbit,” and well, then I was!)

Cerridwen was an otter

When I became a fish

I rose up as a swallow

A hawk was then her wish

(If I hadn’t been so scared I would have stayed a fish.  The water was cool and like dense supportive air, only it was, you know – wet.  But so beautiful)

Cerridwen was close on me

A fearsome bird of prey

I changed into a grain of wheat

And fell into the hay

(I really think I could have outrun her if I’d been more familiar with my powers.  Each one was more astonishing, more amazing than the last.  Except for the grain of wheat idea.   Its consciousness was so, well plantlike, that it just didn’t occur to me – as a grain of wheat – to be afraid anymore.)

Cerridwen was a chicken

A-scratching in the hay

She swallowed up my wheat grain.

It was the first of May.

(And so there I sat for nine long months.  Actually, I kept transforming.  From wheat grain to tadpole to a fish again, floating in Cerridwen's ocean.  And then a bird, a mammal, and then I was born again – a baby boy!)

Cerridwen meant to kill me

When first she saw my face

But when she looked upon me

She saw my radiant grace

(She just couldn’t do it. She really wasn’t the type to destroy life needlessly.  It was just that she had been so angry and disappointed when I had received the dose of blessed enlightenment that was meant to redeem her poor afflicted son.  But now I was her son too.)

Cerridwen took a crane skin

And sewed me in it tight

She placed me in the river

At the kiss of morning light

(Well, most people know what happened after that.  I floated, just as I was until next May Day Eve and then I got caught in poor Elfin’s weir.  When he opened the crane skin coracle and saw me glowing in there he said, “Would you look at the radiant brow on this kid!” Which in Welsh is Taliesin – radiant brow that is - and that was my name ever after. I saved Elfin and his family and became the greatest bard who ever lived. But . . .)

Cerridwen was my mother

I owe her my tongue’s skill

She refined me with her cauldron

She turned me in her mill

 

Cerridwen was my mother

She gave me second birth

And through her matrix I became

A bard of highest worth

 

Cerridwen was my mother

Though I feared her at the start

She still resides within me

In my changeless inmost heart.

 

(The image at the top of the post can be found here.)

 

It’s the Storytellers Who Will Save the World By Karen Burns

“Everyone wants to know that their life has meaning.” Andrew Stanton

Immediately after the World Trade Center was destroyed on September 11, 2001, the horror of the images and the stories that emerged were either devastating or inspiring. There wasn’t time to mourn immediately, there was too much need. The world rushed to offer help in any way they could. But I couldn’t get to New York. And what would I have offered if I could have made it? I came to the conclusion that my job, my life, was trivial.

I’ve always primarily been a dancer. As lovely as that is, no one NEEDS a pirouette when lives are being destroyed all around. I was appalled at my silly, insipid choice of career. It was fun, but quite unimportant. In 2001 I was a new dance professor at Chandler Gilbert and Mesa Community Colleges, and married with two daughters, who were a tiny four and five years old. But I needed to help New York! I raised and donated funds, my girls had a lemonade stand for the NYFD. It wasn’t enough. I was grasping at straws at how to comfort a city across a continent, and completely ignoring what was right In front of me asking for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or how to do a pirouette. It all seemed so trivial, just a drop in the bucket of what could actually make a difference.

In hindsight, I see that raising people to be responsible citizens and teaching anything, is not trivial. But, just by questioning the usefulness of dance led me to an article in the New York Times about the global sense of uselessness following September 11. I remember only one thing from that article: “It’s the trivial that makes us glad to be alive, so go to the movies, the theatre, concerts, dance, sing, listen and tell the stories that move your soul.” I’ve been pondering this thought since 2001. And I firmly believe this to be true. Well, dance is trivial and a luxury, but it is a storytelling art form that brings wonder and delight and a break from the disappointments around us. Just like storytelling in any art form. This is how we hold on to our humanity in light of the worst parts of living.

After the New York Times article, I started listening to my students with more empathy and encouraging them to tell their own stories in any way they could. I began, at first very quietly, telling them my own stories of struggle and the one success in my choices. As a choreographer I try to create a story that is inspired by the music, which means we tell the songwriters story with bodies. Our stories told in class; mine, theirs, and the music’s, brought us all much closer and ultimately changed us all by the end of that semester. I remain close to so many of my students from the last 21 years. That semester was not trivial. It was vital, for all of us. As storytellers we speak for the human spirit. Even though I wasn’t a first responder on 9/11, I know choosing the creative arts is not trivial, it’s essential.

(I started teaching Casey (pictured at the top of the post) to play the piano when he was 5. I had to tell stories about the music to get him motivated to read music. It worked. He’s 20 now and starring on Broadway telling Cameron Crowe’s story in the musical Almost Famous. This photo is from 10/13/2022. I actually made it to New York.)

Step Out On A Cliff by Louis Soto

Stories for millennia have imparted something special to their listeners. Some call this wisdom, some call it history, while others call it archetypes. Archetypes are small pieces of information that our brain absorbs through the use of symbols. This is done by listening to a story and visually painting images that create scenarios that inform us to understand the particulars of human nature. To some extent, we also achieve these through empathizing with the characters of a story and their trials.

Through this process, we can understand how storytelling can be a useful tool in everyday life. Giving us the potential to create scenarios that might solve some of our dilemmas. For this reason, storytelling is important to me, as it should move you to see the importance for you and the possibilities to help you on this journey called life. This is what this blog post is about – the effects that storytelling can have. Nothing in my academic understanding prepared me to go through a transformation in thought, feeling, and interaction with the world. I asked myself how did storytelling do this?

They don’t tell you that stories imbed themselves in you. They don’t tell you that through your exploration of telling them, you have consequently lived through the eyes, and life experiences of another culture or person. This might sound like a fantasy but as fantastic as stories can be they are based on simple situations that we all find ourselves in. You just don’t know it, but I call to you, step out as if you were on a cliff for the first time, and know that it will be okay, if you are worried or scared or maybe have some doubts about what a story can do for you. I promise you that only beautiful self-discoveries await.

Stories have changed me. In times of sadness, they have caused me to perk up and live. Through times of stress, they have taken me to different times and places that have allowed me to think clearly once again. In times of trial, they have opened doors to solutions. Remember that throughout history stories have been used by all civilizations. Reminding us that what we experience is universal, and if others have yet to experience what you have, you have the power to tell it so that we as a collective may learn from it. All this is available to you if you care to listen, or maybe you care to tell one. Whatever calls to you, you will find something special in storytelling.

The picture at the top, "Man standing on a pillar of kaibab limestore on the rim of the canyon near grandview point. Grca 14738. Circa 1899," can be found here.