We are all storytellers. We tell our stories to connect with one another and to make sense about what happens to us. Our story, when told, does not belong to us anymore; it belongs to the catechism of universal story. Joining with others, our story becomes more real, more poignant, less lonely than when we first told it. The poet Muriel Rukeyser once said, “The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.” When we tell our stories to one another, we join forces and create forces that cannot be broken.
Storytelling is a circle. We don’t spin our story out in a straight line to dissolve on the horizon. We tell our stories to one another and for one another. There is a mutuality, a reciprocity in our stories. When I tell a story about me, it will of course help me, but it will also help you. The story will encircle and enfold and enlighten both of us.
Here is a story for you. At Christmas my house was full of my grown children and their friends. It was a delightful, noisy, joyous time and I adored every moment. One of my best friends was having a very different Christmas; the first Christmas without her beautiful 35-year-old daughter who had died six months before. I might have feared my story would hurt her and she might have feared that her story would take away some of my joy.
Instead when the stories come together they produce a musical counterpoint, two pieces of music that sound very different and move independently from each other but are harmonious when played together. One story joyful; one story full of sadness. How can there be harmony between happiness and pain?
Simply because it is the age-old rhythm of being a woman and a mother, the constant slow dance we sway to between joy and grief, two old friends for any mother who watches her children and wonders and worries which song will be played next. These two stories co-exist quite peacefully with each other, and when we learn that truth, we will be better tellers and better listeners. We will engage our hearts and bear witness to the counterpoints in our lives.
