Stories can heal and transform us. They can also become
beacons of hope.
Quite a few years ago, when I was going through a difficult
personal time, I came across a book about the inherent healing power of telling
our stories. No matter how scattered or flawed our lives may appear, as we tell
our stories, we gain something. Patterns emerge from seeming chaos, and our
lives begin to make sense. It may be dreadful, agonizing sense, but even
tragedies have order and consequence. I found that over time, the way I told my
story changed, reflecting my recovery process and new insight.
The mirror side of story-telling is story-listening. While a confidential diary or
journal can be highly useful, having someone hear our words can be
transformative, especially if all that person does is listening. Not judging, not
analyzing, not wondering how to respond, just taking in our words, a silent
partner on our journey. Often we feel less alone in retrospect, no matter how
isolated and desperate we might have been at the time. Additionally, a
compassionate listener invites us to be kinder with ourselves.
Perhaps this is how Twelve Step programs work, apart from any
Higher Power mysticism or Steps: that by simply hearing our own voices relate
our histories, and having the experience of being heard, we open the door to viewing
ourselves through the lens of new possibilities.
Personal storytelling calls for discretion, of course. Although
it may be true that “we are only as sick as our secrets,” casually (or
not-so-casually) violating a confidence from someone else is not the same as
choosing to include the listener in our own private lives. Some of us never
learned healthy boundaries about what is safe to share, and when, and with
whom. We, or others, can be harmed by indiscriminate broadcasting of
embarrassing, illegal, or otherwise sensitive information. The kind of
storytelling I’m talking about, on the other hand, is as much about the journey
as it is the facts.
Stories can get us through dark times by giving us hope and
inspiring empathy. Stories work by creating a bond between the narrator or
central character and the listener/reader. Who wants to read a story about a
person you care nothing about? And if that appealing character has a different
history or journey, or learns something the reader never experienced, so much
the better. We accompany them into darkness and out again.
Hopeful stories provide an antidote to fear-driven stories.
We find allies in unexpected places. Who would have thought that scruffy old
Strider would turn out to be Aragorn (not me, not the first time I read The Lord of the Rings)? They remind us
that even in times when all seems bleak, the tide can and does turn. Spring
follows winter’s desolation. We, too, can be saved. Or, more to the point, we
too are capable of setting aside those fears and reaching out to those in need.
I have a treasure trove of stories I come back to again and
again. They re-kindle hope in me but also when I tell them, they create a
bridge of empathy, even with people who appear to be “on the other side” of
arguments. One story I heard in an inter-faith workshop, from a Catholic woman
who had worked with The
Compassionate Listening Project in the Middle East. She said that she and
her colleagues listened to people from different sides of the conflict there,
and that as the speakers made their points and felt their experiences valued,
their stances softened. Each side became more willing to look at mutually
beneficial solutions and to acknowledge the suffering and aspirations of the
other.
So stories of hope and positive change affect not only the
storytellers but the listeners. A recent blog post on the website
of the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) put it this way:
Fortunately, research also shows that messages framed in terms of hope, especially when coupled with messages that include positive feedback, can counter fearmongering effectively. Hope-based messages can also help people change their minds about key issues. Why? Because when people have made up their minds about an issue, they are prone to only hear facts that support their position - especially if they are already stressed and the facts they hear are framed in terms of fear. But, when people hear messages framed in terms of hope and positive feedback, they are able to digest new information in ways that can ultimately lead to a shift in perspective.
As we move through troubled times, let’s do our best to
create and tell – and re-tell as many times as necessary – those stories.
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