“What does a storyteller do?”
This is a question I field regularly. The word storyteller conjures up images of a meek librarian sitting on a folding chair with a book propped on her lap, peering into a sea of criss-crossed-apple-sauce listeners.
It isn’t that.
It is poetry and comedy.
It is heartbreaking and heart-healing.
It is flagrant lying and raw honesty.
It is personal narratives, fishing stories, quirky uncles, and childhood confessions.
It is also fairy folk, jealous Creators, talking stones, curses, and wizards in disguise.
We come together, storytellers and story listeners, each of us bringing our own stories to the table. Because of this, we each hear a different story from the same stage at the same time. That is the miracle of the art. No two listeners hear the same story.
I weave stories of my life with folk and fairy tales in a hope to unlock something deeper. Children love folk and fairy tales. They are unabashed about giving in to their imaginations. They can see themselves in talking birds and windy voices. Children see that surrender as a journey of safety. Adults, they are a trickier crowd. They see that surrender as a risk. Many have shelved their imaginations, allowing themselves to only use it on the edge of sleep as they spin the worst possible case scenarios of what could come next. They are far too mature or wise to let themselves fall into a story with talking frogs. They want a real life story, thank you very much. But, my story alone can’t fully be their story, can it? No, it has too much Mo. My listeners deserve a journey of their own. So I weave my very believable and actual real world story right next to that magical tale in all its universal thematic glory.
And what happens?
Magic.
Connection.
Hope.
Empathy.
Laughter.
Memories.
At least, that’s the plan. I don’t know that I am changing the world through Story. But, I do believe I build hundreds of little bridges every time I get it right. I help build a bridge to a funny story that they’d forgotten or a tender moment they tried to. I help construct a connection to a different vision of themselves or someone else. Or, perhaps, I just helped draw a line from them to the person next to them that was laughing or crying at the exact same moment.
The connections are splintering around us. Lines, walls, and labels are springing up on every side. They will tear us apart if we let them. Stories fight that surge, even if it is with nothing more than laughing very hard together in the same place at the same time.
I am in the business of connection construction.
Perhaps that is too much to say to the person next to me on the plane next time they ask. But, it is good for me to know.
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