New ways of seeing, new ways of being

Many Sufi stories and poems try to show that the only real wealth a person can have is their knowledge and wisdom. The Sufi student seeks to have her or his eyes opened to truth in whatever form it arises. Sometimes for this, a self-evident truth needs to be questioned.

The way of the Sufi is not to get trapped into believing that one religion or philosophy is the truth but to develop an openness which frees you to be able to reconcile opposing and seemingly contradictory ideas. Often, rather than lectures driving home ‘a point’ stories such as this one were told to make us ‘open up’ to such a learning.

There once was king who had two sons.

As they grew up, the first prince helped the people by working for them in a manner they understood; he built good roads and bridges, he opened more schools. The second prince was considered the lazy prince; he was a dreamer, and did not seem to ‘do’ very much. The first son gained great popularity in the kingdom, while the second, who was known to have obtained a wooden horse from a humble carpenter that he sat astride it most of the time, was ignored and even ridiculed.

Actually, this horse was a magical one; it could carry the rider, if he was sincere, to his heart's desire. In search his heart's desire, the young prince suddenly disappeared one day on his horse. He was away for a long, long time. One day, he just as suddenly returned with a beautiful princess from the Country of Light, and his father was overjoyed at his safe return and listened carefully as he recounted is many adventures and the amazing story of the magic horse.

The horse was then made available to anyone in that country who wanted it. But the people preferred the more concrete benefits which the first prince provided for them; though they half-believed the king, the horse to them always looked like a plaything.

When the old king died, by his surprising decree, the prince ‘who played with toys' became the king. But people in the kingdom continued to resent him; they much preferred the discoveries and activities of the practical prince.

Many of these stories and poems teach us to be cautious of a world defined and separated by ‘this’ and ‘that’, specially by labels of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. A translation of a poem by Jalaluddin Rumi goes:
Out,
beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

Sufis have traditionally spoken of the development in a person of an organ of perception, which, once developed, allows a person to apply himself or herself more completely and effectively to life. And this development is often achieved through a "soaking" in story and poetry, that bypass our rational, give-me-the-one-right-answer mind, allowing our intuitive capacities to recognize the once-hidden but now revealed meanings within them. This might happen consciously or unconsciously, depending on the level of one's awakening.

In the form they are given, most such stories are perfectly suitable as children's stories, though young as well as older people like them. Most people stop there. Some go further, and appreciate their wry humor and entertainment value, perhaps seeing their neighbors or co-workers' behavior exemplified by some characters. Most of those stop there. Some are able to see their own behaviors and attitudes reflected in the stories. But these stories have far more to offer; they lead us to our True Self.

Sufi teaching recognizes that we have an essential nature that is spiritual, and that we are on an earthly journey in order to uncover this essential self. Stories act as powerful teachers on this journey.

Insight or recognition that is gifted to us by story can work to dislodge the comfortable structure that supports our habitual patterns of behavior, responses and comprehension, which often obscure insight into our True Nature. It is believed that the potential for transformation of the self is placed within us; however it is not usually accessible to us because of our limited perception and identification with our everyday and surface self.

Sufism tries to show us that what we think is important may be just a partial understanding of reality. A change in perception that some stories can open us to is often needed to shake us and awaken us to new ways of seeing, new ways of being. Through this, we are closer to becoming the 'completed' person who has seen the heart of truth, and from this vantage point is able to discern the vanities and blinkered vision of others, and more importantly, of oneself.

This is best revealed in the words of the mystic Bayazid Bastami:
I was a revolutionary when I was young, and all my prayer to God was: “Lord, give me the energy to change the world”. As I approached middle age and realized that half my life was gone without my changing a single soul, I changed my prayer to “Lord, give me the grace to change all those who come in contact with me. Just my family and friends, and I shall be content.” Now that I am an old man and my days are numbered, my one prayer is, “Lord, give me the grace to change myself". If I had prayed for this right from the start I would not have wasted my life.

May Story open you to your True Nature.
Marguerite Theophil

Doorway to the Interior

A story reveals its gifts only to those who enter it …
The key to learning from a story is to find
a doorway to its interior.
~ Michael Meade

Behind the fearsome mask

Baba Yaga is a character who appears in hundreds of Russian and Eastern European stories and fairy tales. Her image is an over-the-top scary one; an old woman, she is described as having a nose that hooks downward, a chin that curves upward, long greasy hair, iron teeth sharp brown fingernails, ridged and long. Known as 'old bony legs', Baba Yaga has a short temper, and a large appetite - specially for devouring children.

To further heighten the scary picture, we are told she lives in a clearing in a birch forest, in a place that is difficult to find, unless a magic thread, feather or doll shows the way. Her hut spins around on bright yellow chicken legs. Its bolts and shutters are made of human bones. There is a fence around it made of human skulls. She travels from place to place in a huge mortar and pestle, using a broom to erase the marks of where she has been. Wherever she appears, a wild wind begins to blow, the trees groan and leaves whirl through the air.

Given all this, it may seem strange that anyone would look for Baba Yaga or enter her hut. However, they do so knowing that she is wise - all knowing, all seeing - and tells the whole truth to those who are brave enough to ask. So the stories contain not only the fearsome descriptions – they include ways to approach this power and to get something valuable out of the encounter.

In many ancient societies, older women were seen as the keepers of wisdom and tradition for the family or tribe. No longer having to care for children, they became mother figures to the rest of the community. The older women were the keepers of the wisdom and tradition in the family, clan, tribe, and community. They were also the keepers of relationships, whether among people or with all of nature. They were healers and looked after the dying, and so were considered to have a deep understanding of the two great mysteries, birth and death. In fact, sometimes they were thought to have the power of life and death itself. To approach them was to find answers that are not ordinarily available to most people.

When we follow the various stories associated with Baba Yaga, we find she is more than just an ugly old witch, for she has power, making her worthy of not just fear, but of respect. The stories show how she offers wisdom and guidance to those who are brave enough to seek her and clever enough not to offend her.

The importance of Baba Yaga is reflected in her dominion over time. This is shown symbolically in the three horsemen, who are often talked of as her “faithful servants” -the White Horseman, the Red Horseman and the Black Horseman, who control daybreak, sunrise, and nightfall.

Baba Yaga guards the "Waters of Life and Death." Sometimes the "Water of Death" is indeed used for killing "by stopping the breath or freezing the lifeblood of whoever drinks it," but more often it is part of a healing process. In many Slavic folktales, "the first, the 'water of death,' heals the wounds of a corpse or knots together a body that has been chopped up. The second, the 'Water of Life,' restores life" In either case, it is often the wise old Baba Yaga or her serpent who looks after these all important waters.

Baba Yaga is depicted as a nature spirit and the guardian of the forest, as well as the protector of the fountain of the Waters of Life and Death. She doles out advice to those who are worthy and offers magic and gifts to the pure of heart, and punishes others who are mean-minded or arrogant. In another light, Baba Yaga represents the death of ego. She is the bringer of wisdom and death, as she personifies time and aging, as well as the wisdom that accompanies them.

The Czechs know her as Jazi Baba, and in Poland she is referred to as Ienzababa or Jezda. In addition to her official name, she is also referred to as the Guardian of the Underworld, the Mistress of the Forest, the Goddess of Death and Regeneration, the Wolf-Goddess, the Bone Mother, the Mistress of the Animals, and the Guardian of the Water of Life and Death. These powerful descriptions demonstrate the depth of this ancient figure, who is far more than the simplistic and wicked character she was assigned at the time when Christianity entered the region.

As terrifying as it may be to face Baba Yaga, to survive is to be forever transformed. She would much rather kill our ignorance than ourselves by forcing us to examine ourselves, and thereby finding our own hidden resources.

Inspite of Baba Yaga’s ruthlessness, stories about her also show how she keeps her word once it is given. In some stories, she has a helpful side and in at least one, it is shown that she can be lonely and in need of love and company. She expects respect, and gives grudging respect to people who respect her and are willing to stand up to her and carry out her tasks.

She is also a keeper of fire, which is the goal of many a quest to Baba Yaga’s forbidding presence. Characters who make the frightening journey are often portrayed as ones who have lost their own spark of individual creative fire. Heroines, who need to light the darkness for themselves and others, who need to feel the fire of creative passion, go to the deep forest dwelling of Baba Yaga, the keeper of the creative fire, to beg for fire for their hearths.She does not part with this fire so easily; she demands to know why she should give some fire from her fire stick to those who have been so careless with the precious flame. She will not give you the flame until you have worked for her and perhaps completed seven seemingly impossible labours.

Restoration, renewal, nourishment, and enlightenment can all be found by surviving a journey to Baba Yaga's underworld. To safely enter Baba Yaga's domain, according to Marion Woodman, "There are laws of civility in dealing with these sacred energies.” The seeker must have the courage to venture to place that scare her or him, to hold on to intuition and heart-connection, to ask for what one desires, to go through the tasks set before one. An important thing to remember to ensure survival is to approach Baba Yaga with great humility, knowing that while we do not have the answers, she does.

I have often been asked if the frightening images found in many stories is ‘harmful’ for children, and if they might encourage children to violent behavior. I can understand the fears that parents often might have in this connection, but it’s important to explore other aspects of the impact of such stories on young people. These stories also provide us with those aspects that we ‘adults’ often overlook, but which children often wisely relate to!

In The Uses Of Enchantment, Bruno Bettelheim throws some light on this: "The fairy tale hero has a body which can perform miraculous deeds. By identifying with him, any child can compensate in fantasy and through identification for all the inadequacies, real or imagined, of his own body. He can fantasize that he too, like the hero, can climb into the sky, defeat giants, change his appearance, become the most powerful or the most beautiful person- in short have his body be and do all the child could possibly wish for. After his most grandiose fantasies have been satisfied he can be more at peace with his body as it is in reality. "

This is one of the reasons why the scary characters in folk stories have been made so vivid. If, by identifying with a hero or heroine in a folktale, you can vicariously experience facing and triumphing over an overwhelmingly scary foe, then facing your own real life challenges seems a lot easier and do-able.

May you learn to delve deeper into the stories you read or hear.
Marguerite Theophil

Cutting doors in blank walls
Stories set the inner life into motion,
and this is particularly important where
the inner life is frightened, wedged, or cornered.
Story greases the hoists and pulleys,
it causes adrenaline to surge,
shows us the way out, down, or up, and for our trouble,

cuts for us fine wide doors in previously blank walls…
~Clarissa Pinkola Estes

The joys and benefits of personal narrative

Working with Story has endless possibilities. Personal Narrative - stories from our own everyday lives - is one aspect of Storywork.

Often we imagine that to be a storyteller, we need to find stories only in books or other traditional sources. But stories from our own lives, telling of joys, sorrows, challenges, achievements, successes and recoveries can do so much for us as well. It has been said that personal histories provide a “golden thread of awareness” in us, helping us know, remember, reflect, question, and understand ourselves and the world around us.

Personal storytelling builds groups and communities.
We often get judgmental when we do not know people well; when we know someone's story, we can't help but understand them more, if not actively like them. It doesn't matter if we are different culturally, financially or generationally - our stories enrich each others’ lives.

Personal storytelling creates networks of support and encouragement.
People who have gone through the same illnesses or problems, find relief and release through the sharing of their stories. They realize they are not alone; perhaps even that others have bigger problems, and also that there could be hope through all this suffering. It can also teach us to count our blessings, to empathize and to reach out.

Personal Storytelling provides us with options and solutions.
Sometimes, listening to steps others have taken can show us alternative ways of behaving, or gives us options to choose from, and often gives us courage too.

Personal stories help us replace negative interpretations with positive ones.
Some stories about ourselves that we continue to carry have been feeding us with damaging or unhelpful information. These stories need to be first told, then left behind, to be replaced with future positive stories. Messages in these stories that say "you can't" can be replaced with those that affirm "I can". This makes it much easier to live out of the new telling.

Personal storytelling can help younger people to go through life’s passages.
My friend Carolyn created a special book for young Lina , then 12, that wasn’t only filled with information; she had a group of us women all write our own first menstruation stories that included the fears, the anticipation. Lina, now 30, still treasures this very personal gift and says she will share it with her two young daughters.

Personal storytelling can bond us intergenerationally.
Alright, we have all known – or have been - adults who have told stories about our childhood and had the listeners roll back their eyes way into their sockets in disbelief (the more polite ones, anyway!). But how about a story ‘exchange’? Children and adults can come together and tell and listen to each others’ stories. And it needn’t always be about how good or studious or kind or generous we used to be…

Personal storytelling helps us know each other better.
I am not just talking of those who have just met – old friends and long-time couples too often can discover stories and events they have not talked of before – funny, sad, embarrassing, learningful – profound or just plain silly. Recently, a women’s group I am part of, and who have known each other for many years, shared ‘new’ pieces of our lives that have made us realize that we are all so multifaceted, and there is no end to getting to know each other more deeply – it just takes time and loving awareness.

Personal storytelling can help create a precious, enduring gift.
A woman I know collected family recipes from her mother, grandmothers, aunts and grandaunts, adding a personal anecdote/story and a photograph from each of their lives, and had a book printed for each of the twenty-six young women in her extended family.

Personal storytelling is healing and releasing.
There are times when having told and released our story, we are free to let go and move on. Isak Dinesen wrote, “All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them.” This does not necessarily involve speaking it out to another person. Individuals have often written their own stories as a myth or fairy tale, or created paintings and sculptures that allow them to now step forward with their lives.

May you find ways to share your personal stories.

Marguerite Theophil

Practicing and protecting stories
The telling of our stories is as basic, important and necessary

as our personal freedoms, yet, sadly, also as threatened.
When not practiced and protected, stories are lost to obscurity
and knowledge itself is placed in jeopardy.

~ Waddie Mitchell

Shaping reality

Reading the recent entries in my journal, I find I have been doing more than my agreed upon quota of moaning and groaning. In my reflection time after this, it struck me how much this attitude seemed to be inviting more of the same unwelcome stuff into my life.

I am fortunate that I do workshops on “Story and Healing”, because this time, while looking for stories to use for a coming session, I recalled several from different cultures that teach us about that in-and-out circle of what we put out into the world and what we receive from it. They teach us how we are co-creators in the Story that is our life.

While many would find it incredibly arrogant to say “We create our own reality”, mostly because it appears to ignore a Divine plan or intervention, we can certainly agree that our intentions, decisions and actions do help create – or shape - that reality in our lives.

All spiritual Traditions want to awaken us to this; the laws of Karma or Retribution, or the Golden Rule teach us this in different ways. And as Parker Palmer, a thought-provoking writer and educationist points out, all of them ask two related questions that help keep us awake to our own roles in this ‘creation’:

What are we sending from within ourselves out into the world, and what impact is it having ‘out there’?
What is the world sending back at us, and what impact is it having ‘in here’?

Traditional cultures illustrated this lesson through memorable and beautiful Teaching Stories such as this one from India:

Wanting to test the wisdom of his kings, Lord Krishna summoned King Duryodana, renowned for his power and might. While this enabled his subjects to live in plenty, they lived in great fear of his displeasure and punishment too. Lord Krishna told him: "I want you to travel the world over and find and bring back to me one truly good man." Answering "Yes, Lord," he immediately set out on his search.

He traveled far, meeting and talking to many people, finding out about their lives, values and actions, and after a long time, returned to Krishna saying, "Lord, I have diligently searched the world over for one truly good man. At heart they are mostly selfish and wicked. Sadly, nowhere could I find this truly good man you seek!"

Lord Krishna then sent for another king, Dhammaraja, well known for his wisdom and benevolence, and much loved by all his people. Krishna said to him, “Dhammaraja, I want you to travel the world over to find and bring to me one truly evil man." Dhammaraja also set out at once, and on his travels far and wide, he too met with and spoke to many thousands of people.

After much time had passed, he returned to Krishna. "Lord, I have failed you. I found people who are misguided, who perceive things incompletely, who act blindly, but nowhere could I find one truly evil man. They are all good at heart despite their failings!"

And another story, this time set in Greece, tells us much the same thing:
Socrates used to sit beside the gates leading in and out of Athens, observing the flow of people. Once, a stranger came up to him and said, “I am thinking of moving to this city; could you tell me what kind of people live here?”

Socrates asked him, “What kind of people live in the city that you come from?”

“Oh, they are terrible!” he answered. “They lie, cheat and steal from one another. That is why I want to get out of there.” Socrates exclaimed, “Why, that’s exactly how the people are here! You’d better not move here; keep searching.”

Some days later, another person came to him to ask, “Sir, I would like to see and learn more about other parts of the country, and maybe to live here, but first could you tell me what kind of people live here?” Socrates asked this man too about the people back home. “Oh, they are good people, kind and courteous, and usually help each other.” The Teacher responded: “It is the same here. Go into to the city and explore it, you will find it is just as you imagine it should be.”

So, tell me again - what did you say the people are like where you live, where you work?
Marguerite Theophil

Our true inheritance
The stories that have been preserved by different cultures around the world
represent our true inheritance as human beings.
It is through listening to them and thinking about them that we inherit the wisdom
built up by people over countless generations.

This is why storytelling is, and always has been,
the foundation upon which true education is built.
~ Gareth Lewis

Healing re-tellings

Because we are motivated to make decisions and to take action, consciously or not, by the stories we repeatedly tell or hear – we need to be attentive to just what those stories are.
Stories we tell about ourselves and that other people tell about us deeply affect how we live.

Telling our stories of pain and sorrow once or twice is healing; telling them again and again is allowing that one part of our lives to determine how we see ourselves, or sadly, what we focus on or expect our lives to be like in the future.

Sometimes the healing re-tellings come from outside, like in the story of Opalanga, whose story is told by Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, author of that engaging book on Story, ‘Women Who Run With The Wolves’. Unusually tall and slender, as a child Opalanga was teased, and also told that the gap between her front teeth was the sign of a liar. However, as an adult she visited the Gambia and there found some of her ancestral people, many of whom were very tall and slender, with gaps between their front teeth. This gap, they called ‘sakaya yallah’ or ‘opening of God’; to them it was a sign of wisdom.

Pinkola-Estes comments on the consequences of such revision: "... stories which began as experiences both oppressive and depressive end with joy and a strong sense of self. Opalanga understands that her height is her beauty, her smile one of wisdom, and that the voice of God is always close to her lips". She offers this as an example of how easily we become ‘caught in a story’ and that the toxicity of attributions is even more disruptive and destructive if they are told to us early and authoritatively.

Often with young children and teenagers, while it may be counter-productive to have them change the details of what has already happened to them, it is useful to have them re-create or re-context outcomes, or possible new endings.

A young girl who worked with me for over two years first told me that her name meant “Clouds” and that clouds “made the sky dark and unhappy, bringing destruction whenever they appeared.” An older family member had cruelly repeated that her father had lost his business the day this daughter was born! As we worked over many months, among other things with yoga, story and with symbols, drawing and painting, her clouds now and then were less grey and menacing. Later, the bottom of the page had a few fragile green things growing, a bird or two became visible in the sky, and much later her story was: “Clouds give welcome shade, they bring life-giving rain, they can make people happy.”

Stories – personal or cultural – shape our perceptions. In fact, stories of the collective very easily slide into propaganda and dogma when viewed from one single perspective. In truth, it is often said, “the people who tell the story shape the culture.”

Historically, many re-told stories slip from pain and suffering into a perpetuating of hate and reprisal, as we see in so many cultural and religious or ethnic clashes the world over today. And ridiculously, the same people who keep telling those stories of hate and revenge on Monday, on Tuesday talk of creating peace!

Healing our lives and world does not mean an avoidance of talking suffering and abuse; it does involve also telling of how we found – or are going to find – the strength to rise above this and how we want to put an end to generating such a cruel and endlessly retaliatory world.

May you tell your stories in such a way that they to bring healing to yourselves, to the world.
Marguerite Theophil

Power over the story
Those who do not have power over the story that dominates their lives,
the power to retell it, rethink it, deconstruct it,
joke about it, and change it as times change, truly are powerless,
because they cannot think new thoughts.

~Salman Rushdie

The power of the Feminine

The story of Heracles, better known as Hercules, has been told in many ways for many reasons, but the overwhelming motif heard is one of power and manliness. So it comes as a big surprise to see in the Neuchatel Museum, a painting in which Hercules -- the ultimate male -- sits at the feet of Queen Omphale of Lydia, every inch of his muscled body focussed on `woman's work' of spinning thread. What's going on here?

Influenced by a sudden rush of madness, Hercules once imagined his family to be wild beasts and slew them all. Once he came to his senses, appalled at his action, he prowled the forests, making his way to Delphi where the oracle directed him to present himself to Eurystheus, king of Mycenae and to submit to his will. So he was set to complete the twelve tasks or `labours' for which he is so famous.

What is strangely not recorded in most accounts of these labours is this: After being successful at eleven of the tasks, Hercules was forced to interrupt his mission when Jupiter punished him for one of his fits of temper. This punishment for our very male hero, was to live as slave in Lydia to Queen Omphale, where she compelled him to dress like a woman and spend his time spinning and weaving for several years.

The anthropologist G Geichel-Dolmatoff, writes of the Tukano tribe of the Columbian rain forest, who define the human being as ``one who sees and hears the echo and thus knows''. This `echo', or keori, is `the essence of things', and ``hearing with the echo'' refers to knowing what it is that is being perceived, what it is that is being symbolised; not all people can hear it all the time. I find this a beautiful image for story-hearing.

If we listen `without the echo' this sounds like yet another punishment for his arrogance. Listening `with the echo', however, leads us to the deeper meaning of this story.

Now, the act of spinning and weaving, in the language of myth and symbol, represents a connection with the creative, formative power of nature. According to J J Bachofen, anthropologist and mythologist, these actions of spinning and weaving are understood to ``lend articulation, symmetrical form, and refinement to crude matter.... The crossing of the threads, their alternate appearance and disappearance, seemed to present a perfect image of the eternal process of natural life.'' Mythology teaches that it is the two sexes -- dual poles of life -- that together give to visible creation its beginning, its continuous renewal and its eternal rejuvenation.

Hercules, described as the irreconcilable foe of matriarchy, the misogynist in whose sacrifice no woman takes part, by whose name no woman swears, and who finally meets his death from a woman's poisoned garment, is expected to find wholeness through being made to perform what was essentially `woman's work'.

One of the functions of mythologies and associated rituals is to preserve the hint of a way back to lost unity, although the price that has to be paid for this is a form of descent, sometimes descent at it's ultimate -- death. This may be death in its most literal sense, or it can be metaphorical: a dying to old ways, to old partial patterns, and so to a claiming of one's wholeness of being.

Mythology, through story and ritual enactment upholds the principle of wholeness as a complementary play of the feminine and the masculine. Tiresias, the blinded seer, was both male and female. In India, the image of Ardhanarishvara, part masculine, part feminine, wholly divine, conveys more than the story; it holds and transmits the philosophy of the one. Ancestral images of certain African and Melanesian tribes have both -- the beard of the father and the breasts of the mother.

As Joseph Campbell has pointed out that while the hero is the one who comes to know, ``Woman, in the picture language of mythology, represents the totality of what can be known.'' As he progresses in the slow initiation which is life, the form of the woman/goddess undergoes for the journeying, questing hero a series of transfigurations; she lures, she guides, she helps him break his fetters. Without her, he is unable to fully access his own latent power.

May story teach us to listen more deeply.

Marguerite Theophil

Beyond the lines
Inside the world of story, our minds run free –
to do what children do when they are drawing –
to color beyond the lines, all over the pages.
~ Jimmy Neil Smith

How Story works

Story does not just entertain us; it helps us to learn, to grow, to find options and meanings, to heal, construct identities for ourselves and our communities, and to understand and honor our world – its environment, creatures and its different kinds of people.

Story pitches us into a space of multiple realities.
“Once upon a time, “ or, “Long, long ago, when animals used to speak to men and men to animals, and both to God, ” - such ‘beginnings’ toss us into another, more receptive space than the defined one we live and work in.

Unlike in this ‘reality’, where everything must fit and make sense, story offers us other realities, allowing for the unexpected, the magical, for awakenings and insights, clarity and direction, and sometimes for the persistently inexplicable to stay just that way!

Story delights and teaches people of all ages.
When I tell people I work with Story, they immediately assume that I work with children, and are surprised to hear my listeners are sometimes children, but more often educators, managers, therapists, clergy, and business people, ages ranging from twenty-five to ninety.

Story communicates through images.
Among Tellers, it is a known fact that stories are received image by image, not word by word. Our most enduring learnings happen through thoughts, feelings and connections generated by images. A true story I love is of a young boy, who when asked if he liked the TV or audio version of the same program replied, ”The audio tapes … the pictures were much better.”

Story helps us in meaning-making.
Story - whether about animals, fairies or humans - connects us with our humanness and links past, present, and future by teaching us to anticipate the possible consequences of our actions. I like Franz Kafka’s definition, that a story should be an ax for the frozen sea around us.

Stories sometimes give their answers pretty readily, but the ones we most learn from often generate further significant questions and reflections. While listening to story or reading for sheer joy is wonderful, sometimes we feel drawn to go deeper, to make a story our ally in meaning-making or healing.

Story has general lessons yet can be acutely personal.
It’s good to remember that while a particular story can open us all to the same idea, or teach us all a general lesson, really responding to a story is an extremely personal process. Each one will connect to different aspects of a story, responding according to a current ‘nurturance need’ - taking from the story what she or he needs at that particular time.

Story is ‘healing medicine’.
Not only Traditional stories, but also Personal Narrative can be inspiring and healing, and can be a powerful basis for personal, professional, or organizational development. Exploring and sharing true stories is valuable for self help or self improvement, even for community or organizational understanding and bonding, for team improvement, and to stimulate creativity.

Story helps community building.
“An individual, an organization, or a society that encourages and engages in story sharing
invites others in. Ignoring or withholding stories shuts people out. That keeps us ignorant and isolated; it is neither practical nor wise.” says a Teller, Dolly Haik-Adams Berthelot.

Since the time we gathered around campfires, or later collected in village squares, stories have helped teach, influence, and bind people together. Stories have fostered the understanding of self, of others, and of life - which is so important for creating healthy community. This understanding is deeply needed today, as we battle divisive forces, within and without. We can recover the wisdom and power of story to help us live and work together in healthy communities.

May using Story bring these wonderful gifts into your life.
Marguerite Theophil

The Teller’s task
Not only to entertain, but also to illuminate
the reality of potential, and draw forth the wonder
that lies only just beneath the skin of young and old alike –
this is what storytellers must both know they are capable of,
and never tire from attempting.
~ Katie Latimer

Dilnaz's article

Here is an article that Dilnaz Boga wrote about one of my workshops for Life Positive magazine.

TALES THAT HEAL by Dilnaz Boga

The story is one of the most powerful purveyors of spiritual truths. Here, a report on a recently conducted workshop.

"The carefree dolphin roamed around the seas like she was the queen of the oceans. She spent her days and months catching fish, playing with friends, taking care of her family and exploring new parts of the big ocean. One day, while she was on one of her long and leisurely swims, she got lost and was captured by a group of evil sharks. She knew she had to escape or else they would eat her. Her several attempts of escape failed and she was getting very frustrated. So, one day, she finally screamed and screamed so loudly that the whole ocean shook. It was then that her friends and family realized where she was and came to rescue her. There was a big celebration on her return. Life was back to the earlier carefree days of catching fish, exploring new lands..."

Tarika Vaswani, a post-graduate student of Social Work, who attended a StoryWORK workshop at Malad in Mumbai, narrated this tale. Vaswani explained, "The key part of the workshop, for me, was presenting my life in a story - for me as well as others to see. And this way, I saw a lot more. I saw all that I had learnt; accomplished, lost, experienced…it helped me understand myself better. It helped me join the dots in the gaps that existed in my personality. This workshop gave me a lot of self-confidence and I stopped giving as much importance as I used to, to other people's opinion. I decided to take my own decisions in life - from career to friends to anything, basically. It helped me decide on what I as a person wanted and not what others felt were the right choices for me. I made myself the center, placing myself first to ensure I came before others, which was not the case earlier.

I think I am able to understand myself better and am able to realize why events occurred the way they did. What's more, I realized that everyone has a story!"

And that is the point Dr Marguerite Theophil, workshop facilitator and author of the book, Uniting Heaven and Earth: The Transformative Power of Story, is trying to make. Theophil, who has been conducting StoryWORK workshops for some time, both in India and abroad, says there's a lot we can learn about ourselves from stories. "Every human being has a story gene. Stories have existed even before the written word. Stories gift us the understanding of who and why we are, and what we can be. It is well accepted that images and metaphors have profound healing effects, and that story - where words are designed to evoke pictures or images in our mind - can play an essential role in healing the mind, body, and spirit."

Theophil's work as a corporate consultant in the field of leadership development gave her an insight into how a group of people are held by stories that are audible or inaudible. "But mywork in the HR sector was half done as there was no space or methodology for stories in this culture. I felt it was wanting in follow-through. And it was hard to convince people."But that is not the beginning of the story of StoryWORK. Its roots enveloped Theophil when she was a little girl. "My great grandmother, my mother and my maid were fantastic story tellers. It was an integral part of my childhood."

After graduating in Psychology from St Xavier's College, Mumbai, Theophil went on to become an air-hostess for 14 years. "Because of all the travelling, it was easy to pursue my PhD in Sacred Architecture from Mumbai University. Even that revolved around buildings telling their stories… only their language was silence. That's when it dawned on me that the power of a story is found in the symbolism and not the obvious."

In 1989, Theophil started WEAVE (Woman Earth And Vital Encounter), an organisation of likeminded individuals, especially women, who were seekers of spirituality. "This was spirituality without demonizing the other traditions. And so we had to learn about other traditions," she said. She added, "At our first workshop in Pune, I learnt that women share their experiences through stories."

The StoryWORK workshop includes traditional teaching stories that have been handed down for hundreds of years, as well as stories from daily life experiences. Theophil explains, "As a teller of stories, I am often asked by members of the listening group about just 'how' I knew this was the story they needed at this time. The real answer is - I never really know. But I have learnt that I need to trust the stories I choose and I must choose stories that can offer insights, not morals or prescriptions for living. I use the gift and power of story in many areas of my work - with individuals, with groups of managers, educators, clergy or students - actually with anyone open to ways of learning that need not be usual or obvious!"

Stories have several components that have symbols. In stories, one can find people - man, woman, or child, prince, pauper or mermaid; aspects of nature - mountains, rivers, animals, the great earth; abstractions or concepts - evil, good, impermanence, cowardice, honor, good humor, greed, nobility, wisdom. Often these are personified, and sometimes the 'personifications' are easily identified, often they are not. While both are useful, the second type - the not so easily identifiable - is often the key to our transformation.

Stories have many levels, and it is only by going past surface or immediately available interpretations that we give ourselves access to their healing gifts.

Vaswani explains, "Very few of us realize the power of stories. Stories, in their own way, can help us deal with issues we push into our subconscious as children. They help us join the dots in our personalities and understand ourselves better. We learn to accept who we are, insecurities and everything else included. They help us to complete the story of our lives. This is how, I think, a story approach to life might work for me.

I never realized the power of story till I attended the StoryWork workshop. Now, I read every story with wider eyes and more open ears. I'm also on the prowl for stories - to find a story for its own sake or to forward it to someone who I know will appreciate it. Also, a story leaves me pondering over what I've derived from it (something that's getting easier by the day)."

We are a people who are massaged by fictions;

we grow up in a sea of narratives and myths, the perpetual invention of stories...

Your mother would tell you stories to illustrate a hundred different points,

lessons, morals she wanted to get across to you. Or you'd tell stories to one another

as a way of making the moonlight more intoxicating, more beautiful.
~ Ben Okri

The stories that enchanted us

It is a great lesson in Personal Growth to examine those stories that enchanted us, that had a hold on us as children.

A careful study can reveal a pattern or ‘storyline’ that occurs in our lives. It is important to remember that the same story can have a completely different significance for different people, or for the same person at different parts of her or his life. Knowledge of this is itself a major step in understanding the moves and choices we make as adults.

Understanding a pattern becomes the first step in participating in the re-writing of our own story. As story-keeper Jonathan Young has so perceptively put it: “We may not be able to create the rivers that carry us along, but we can certainly navigate the little boats of our lives.”

There is much controversy about whether the elements in these stories, particularly fairy tale ‘horror’, is ‘good’ for children. Some experts declare that there is no intrinsic value in exposing children under six to death or horror or fright; others argue that all children have rich fantasy lives, filled with fears and anxieties. They struggle to cope with what they do not understand, or what they feel powerless against – mostly the world of adult expectations and adult meanings.

I asked several Tellers who work with children to tell me of their experiences.

Children who listen to or read stories are encouraged to imagine the consequences of an action; most stories contain the making a choice - or even an unforeseen event that requires choices. A story-worker who works extensively with young children claims that “the ability to imagine outcomes is not a frivolous pass time, but an essential skill that can contribute to a child's safety.”

Young people can identify with stories of perseverance in the face of obstacles and difficulties – “If he/she did that, so can I.” Or even “Oh – so there’s another way to approach this! Well….”

Listening to a story encourages visualization; the mind can make its own pictures, which can be a powerful learning tool, even for subjects like science and maths. Exercising the imagination grows mind muscle for new and inventive ideas.

A story touches emotions and deeply stirs memory. By making space for this as they grow up, children are taught – even if indirectly - to validate and even honor this aspect of their lives, that most learning seems to ignore at best, and marginalize or punish at worst.

While it may not be so possible to be considered a ‘hero’ in everyday life, when children talk of the stories that enchant them, there is a strong identification with the actions, the achievements, the popularity of a character or many characters – and sometimes the ‘connection’ happens in ways that surprise us.

Looking back at those stories that enchanted us, particularly as young children, we can see that the adventures in the stories often reflected the challenges we faced at that particular point of our lives.

At another level, a learning interpretation may be this: all characters represent various aspects of myself.

When the inhabitants of Hamelin refused to pay the Pied Piper what they had promised for leading away the destructive rats by using the tune of his pipe, he led their children away with his magical music. So - the children are the playful side of myself, attracted to magic, but not given to much analysis of the outcome; the village leaders could symbolize a practical, thrifty side that doesn’t respect or value magical qualities or artistic abilities. If I short-change my playful, imaginative, creative side, and give in too much to the ‘practical’, I may end up paying a heavy price for this neglect.

Looking back at our stories and reflecting on them can sometimes help us understand meanings, or more importantly – recognize and shift those meanings for a more fulfilling life.

May finding your Story-patterns teach you to move on in wholeness.
Marguerite Theophil

(See “Healing Re-tellings”)

More alive
When we tell and listen to stories, we can almost feel our souls breathing fully and deeply.
Our capacity to see options, to visualize possibilities, to imagine
expands and we are somehow more alive.

~ Michael Parent

Turning the fairy-tale inward

Traditionally passed down orally by mothers and grandmothers, fairy tales have always been tied in with women’s wisdom and power. The tellers were often the older women, instructing the younger ones through these tales which outlined social functions and living intricacies. While they worked at monotonous tasks like sewing and spinning, ‘necessary knowledge’ was handed over to the younger ones.

In a period of history where women had few rights, fairy tales were one way that women could make their opinions known. In the older tales the fairies themselves often stood for the aristocrats, having power over many but often caring little, bickering amongst themselves, concerned with their own power struggles. The heroines were the ones to comment on the double-standards of the times, on the painfulness of most arranged marriages, and the false glory of war. The best-known tales today are the ones collected by the Grimms and those written by Perrault, which, however, changed to favor the charming prince rather than the clever heroine.

Most of what we refer to as Fairy Tales today have fewer fairies in them as compared to the older tellings. The German term for fairy tales is Marchen; there is no satisfactory English equivalent. Mar-chen is the diminutive of Mar, a story or a tale, and came to mean a story of wonder and enchantment, which seems more appropriate to us today.

It is the Fairy Tale in the form of stories for children that we are most familiar with. Each of us can recall a childhood favorite - or two; those that we begged to have told to us again and again. And again.

I recall a young niece who, at around age four, had us read The Little Match Girl to her every night. Every night for two whole years. Thoroughly sick of endlessly repeating what I thought was a rather morbid story for a four year old – the ending has the little girl who sold match-sticks dying from the cold after she had tried unsuccessfully to warm herself on a cold winter’s night - I tried convincing her it was boring to have the same story yet again. I tried buying her lovely new books, I even tried firm refusal. None of this worked.

When she was around ten, I thought to ask her what she felt the story was really about. She said that hearing it, she felt ‘safe’ because a kindly old man had made friends with the little match girl, and,
“… there are always nice people, even in her sad life; people who are there to understand you.” My young niece had needed something else from the story and so had made it uniquely her own.
While writing this piece, I called her to find out what impact of the story remained after almost twenty years.

“I remember that I also loved the magic, the possibilities …” she said, and she recalled a part where, left with only three match-sticks, each one the little girl burned gave her the vivid image in the match-light of each of her deepest fantasies. The other little girl, my niece, in her moments of feeling lost or lonely, or simply not-understood by those around her, would later imagine she could light a match and see her wished-for world in it, and this gave her a lot of comfort.

Bruno Bettleheim in his analysis of fairy tales in The Uses Of Enchantment reminds us: “the fairy tale clearly does not refer to the outer world, although it may begin realistically enough and have everyday features woven into it. The unrealistic nature of these tales … is an important device, because it makes obvious that the fairy tales’ concern is not useful information about the external world, but the inner processes taking place in an individual.”

May Story bring you in touch with the deeper parts of yourself.

Marguerite Theophil



A lasting message
Storytelling is a powerful way to teach
any concept or principle to any soul,
because a well-told story touches the intellect,
tickles the humor, and embraces the heart.
Storytelling chisels in the stone of the soul
a lasting message.
~ Randel McGee

Part of a great story, still unfolding

Story teaches us that the ingredients of myth and folktale hold lessons for our lives. And in some rare and beautiful cases, they can inspire us to act in ways that inextricably weave the strands of old traditional themes of heroes, journeys, love, hope, redemption and transformation into our immediate daily living.

For those whose lives are touched and blessed with Story, and who work with it extensively, often to bring healing and hope to others, it should come as no surprise to us when their lives take on the coloration of powerful mythic and symbolic narration – but all in real-time!
Laura Simms, who is a famous and loved story teller, who uses stories to promote tolerance, peace and environmental stewardship, is herself a key character in this story.

It begins at “Children’s Voices”, a UN conference in 1996, where 57 young people from 23 countries came together to discuss the challenges they faced—homelessness, child labor, prostitution and war. Ishmael Beah, from Sierra Leone, had left his country for the first time to attend this event, and something about his story deeply touched Laura Simms who was also there.

When Ishmael was 12, the civil war that had begun in his country two years previously, impacted Ishmael in a shocking, personal way. The group called the Revolutionary United Front, invaded and destroyed his home, and he lost his entire family in the ruthless attack. Then after being on the run for several months, Ishmael and many of his young friends were recruited to join government forces. They had no choice, if they refused or ran away they would be killed, so Ishmael was forced to become a child soldier. They armed him with an AK-47, got him addicted to a deadly drug, a mixture of cocaine and gun powder, and gave him a new name, Green Snake, and a new identity with it.

When she heard of haw badly the civil situation had worsened there, Laura knew she had to do all she could to bring him to the United States, a process that took more than two years, which she describes as the most demanding thing she had ever done. Yet along the way, she recalls, the people she met “were like guardians one meets on the road in a profound fairytale; the auspicious coincidence of events that mark the epics of great cultures was truly remarkable.”
Once he got to the U.S, she ‘mothered’ him, and supported him through the both the everyday changes he had to deal with and his participation in various peace conferences, even as he worked through high school and then at Oberlin College, where he gravitated toward writing, graduating as a political science major.

In A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, described by Laura as a beautiful literary work told with the simplicity and genuineness of Ishmael's West African oral tradition, Ishmael poignantly shares stories of his youth, his indoctrination into war and his journey back to regain his humanity. The difficult story not only reveals the devastating effect on children drawn into war, but more importantly is a powerful example of inherent goodness that if uncovered and tended cannot be destroyed nor stifled.

In Laura’s own words: “What I know about storytelling is what gave me the inner courage to recognize the strength of Ishmael’s basic goodness, as something more transformative and powerful than the incident of being turned into a killer.”That process of being a storyteller, she believes, really keeps alive very important capacities one needs to envision a future, to overcome hopelessness, to have a sense to live with what’s happened in your life and go forward. It allows people to move beyond fixation on victimization.

But there is more - we live by the stories we believe, and so learning how to listen, and really understand the deeper ramifications of how a story can actually be used to separate, destroy, manipulate, or alternatively, how a story can comfort, heal and open us to true humanity is a really very important for us all.

As Laura Simms has said: ”The actual events of our lives are the greatest mythic stories. I am part of a great story, still unfolding.”

All our stories, small and big, reflect our part in the interwoven larger story. May you find ways to love the story, live the story.

Marguerite Theophil

The cure

We are often physically and mentally overwhelmed with the wordiness of the human world,

yet the cure for wordiness is not less story, but deliberate story.
~Christina Baldwin