The Power of Sharing Stories

I don’t know about you, but, lately I have been feeling kind of jaded!  As an empath, I am very aware of the fact that others are also struggling to make sense of the ugliness, prejudice, anger, sadness and disappointment so prevalent in society today.

However, a burst of strength and joy came from the Class of 1974 School reunion, in fact one specific event of the weekend, lifted my spirits.  It was an incredible reminder of the power of sharing and telling stories. Some of us, gathered to do just that, share our stories. Our facilitator created a safe space for us to be able to talk openly, without question or condemnation, coupled with the promise of confidentiality, to open our hearts to each other in sharing our life journey.

I love listening to and sharing stories, real life stuff, warts and all, sad, happy and gritty stuff. In fact, as children our best bedtime stories were “Tell me a story Daddy of the olden days, when you were a little.”  

Stories are important and relatable in that we come to the realisation of shared experience not only that, we get to learn about the other person, in a deep and meaningful way.  You see, we are so quick to pass judgement, condemn, to be prejudiced and snobbish, based on look, colour, gender, address and wealth or lack thereof.   Does the cashier fit into our tiny little mould of how we think the world operates or do they deserve our respect, our gratitude, a smile and a kind word, to be acknowledged as part of a whole made up of many different colours, creeds and languages?

I do believe that in the process of talking and listening of giving and receiving, there is that moment, where the listener says “Aha, you too, friend you too have experienced or gone through what I have experienced!”   A deep heart-connection is made.

Many years ago I wrote and facilitated a workshop entitled “Let’s Talk Peace”, the objective of the exercise was to unpack and examine our own prejudice and then to journey to a place of healing and acceptance.

Now, if my memory serves me correctly, during one of the sessions the group decided that we needed to spend time thinking about or rather being introspective in order to reach a place of forgiveness.    We gathered at a meditation centre in Glendinningvale, a group of women from all faiths coming together  to get to grips with our own prejudice.  A hiccup occurred when someone in the group referred to LGBTQ people as an “abomination”.  It was  a shocking moment and matters started to get a little heated (I berated myself quietly for embarking on such a bold and risky discussion) when a woman, a complete stranger arrived, she mentioned that she had seen an advert somewhere advertising this event and she knew in her heart that she needed to attend, according to her she got into her car and drove to said address; there she was in our midst.  This lovely woman then proceeded to open her heart to us; she told us that one of her children had opened up to the fact that they were “gay”.  I cannot even begin to describe the collective feeling in that room, it was  a mixture of anguish, sadness and empathy, almost as if through divine intervention this woman had been sent to us and in sharing her story with us we were forced to examine our hearts and our motives.  By the way, she was unaware of the fact that not seconds before she joined us we were ready to have a huge bust up over a “gay” issue.

With tears streaming down her face, she said I love my child, do I chase or disown my child, what do I do, when churches and society condemns them and tells them that they are degenerates and evil.  It was definitely a profoundly moving moment for all of us.  In that moment we were forced to recognize that prejudice is evil and only through empathy and the power of sharing our stories with each other, as well as listening with discernment, do we get to realise that compassion, acceptance and love are powerful and healing; we owe it to  ourselves and our communities  to change hate and anger to compassion and acceptance.

Before lockdown I became aware of a wonderful organisation (Narrative 4), they believe in and encourage the “building of community through the power of storytelling. We envision a world where every single young person leads with compassion and where loneliness and isolation are replaced with connection, communication and action.”

 During lockdown I signed up with Narrative 4’s free virtual Story Exchange Facilitator Training Course.   What an incredible experience!  I interacted virtually with folk from Ireland, USA and Mexico. What makes this course an exceptional experience is the fact that people are paired off into groups. We spend time telling each other a story, for example, our first date, an embarrassing moment, the first time we experienced a live concert or theatre, I think you get the picture. During the telling of the story, the one listening may not interrupt, pass judgement or comments. All you have to do is to listen deeply, and then it is the other person’s turn to tell their story. After thirty minutes the facilitator gathers everyone together, sitting next to your partner; you retell their story as your own.  It is nerve-wracking; suddenly you are aware of the tremendous responsibility in retelling the story respectfully and kindly.  “Did I remember everything that I was told and in retelling it did I do it justice?”   It was a wonderful lesson in creating safe spaces for folks to tell their story, and a deep understanding that our stories matter, therefore we matter.

It is my honest opinion that storytelling (sharing our experiences) should be encouraged in our homes, at school, the playground, the sports field, places of worship as well as the boardroom. 

“Stories are the one common bond every person shares, the ultimate democracy – but with a touch of magic”.  Narrative 4

I do believe it might just save the world.