In the dark depths of long winter nights, spirits slumber, too, and allow their stories to be told – these are the storytelling moons. Elders and storytellers who have been given tales to carry speak softly, reverentially, and the people hear them. The people do not merely listen – they hear. To hear is to have a spiritual, mental, emotional or physical reaction to the words. Sometimes, at very special times, you have all four reactions and are changed forever. Share stories, fill cold nights with the warmth of your connections, your relationships; hear each other and be made more.
That is the power of storytelling.
From Richard Wagamese, an Ojibwe Canadian author and journalist from the Wabaseemoong Independent Nations in Northwestern Ontario in his book Embers.
Our spiritual practice for the month of January is story, and although we’re not far into the month, this theme has stirred up a lot! Many of you have shared stories with me and with each other. Many of you have shared the complexity of stories; how they can both comfort and hurt, how they can be terrifying and exciting, how they can be healing and painful, sometimes all those things at the same time.
As you engage with the power of stories, take a moment to notice what you might need as you hear and tell your stories; do you need someone to witness, to be present for comfort, to reflect what they hear, or something else?
In this time of storytelling moons I invite you to engage with the power of stories. Here are a few prompts to get you started:
In your family of origin, what story was told about you? Were you the funny one? The talented one? The troublemaker? The quiet one? The clumsy one? The rebel? The leader? The smart one? The difficult one? The “good” one? How has that story about you lived on, either by supporting your growth and relationships or by hindering them?
If you had to put the current stage of your life into a genre right now, what genre would it be? Mystery? Romance? Thriller? Fantasy? Young adult? Fiction? Non-fiction? Satire? Self-help? Travel?
What story told by or about your ancestors has shaped or supported you the most?
What do you leave out of the telling of your life story that wants to be let back in?
Authors go to great pains to write “in their own voice.” So far, have you written your life story in your own voice?
Have you ever been healed or saved by a story?
What stories of survival, hope and connection are carried in the scars, aches and shape of your body? What might it mean to thank your body for the stories it has carried?
What is one story you hope will be told at your funeral?
Twenty years from now, when we tell the story of our current political situation, how do you think that story will differ from the way you are telling it today?
