Why Do Personal Stories Matter?
It was a rainy May evening in London, spring nowhere yet in sight. I sat in a stuffy co-working space, listening to a course participant share a personal story. Doing an open mic is part of the curriculum at Escape the City, the career change school where I teach. We preach the power of vulnerability as a vital 21st century leadership skill. As an 11-year-old, this woman told us, she spent two years washing cars, holding jumble sales, saving up every penny so she could travel back to Namibia -where she was born- just to sit once again under the vast and magical African skies. Eventually, she succeeded. She convinced her parents and made the epic trip on her own that summer. All she remembered was the joy of it.
What happened -she asked us listeners- to that determined little girl? As an academic, she had built a resolutely risk-free life. Now, standing on the terrifying cusp of launching her own business to help busy people slow down, her story brought her a surprise resource: her brave 11 year-old self.
A hushed silence fell over the room, each of us transported to our own place under the Namibian stars, a time in childhood when nothing seemed impossible. The atmosphere in the room became lighter and sweeter. Such is the power of personal storytelling. Done well, it empowers the teller and offers listeners the gift of accessing their own store of personal experience in a new way. We left that evening strengthened and smiling.
Yes, but — why tell our stories?
People often ask me that. There are several answers. The first is that putting a lived experience, any experience and particularly one that was challenging, into a story, gives it a form. It no longer lives in us as a blurry cloud of emotion and jumbled, unexpressed thoughts. It gains structure and clarity and becomes something that exists outside of us. Shaping it into the form of a story, with a beginning, middle and end, helps us see how that experience fits into the broader map of our lives. The relationship that ended? Perhaps it led to a move to a vibrant new city. The job you didn`t get? You may have forged a career path you wouldn`t otherwise have dared to pursue.
A storied approach mines life circumstances, no matter how tough, for pearls of hard-earned wisdom, without ever falling into the trap of creating neat bowtie endings.
Sometimes, we can get stuck in a story. Understanding the shape of our stories can help us see where we get lost or confused so that we are freer to make different choices.
Stories also bring us closer together. There is that famous saying about the shortest distance between two people being a shared story. My sister recently told work colleagues her story of post-natal depression. Afterwards, she was stunned by how many women approached her to thank her for sharing what felt like their story. Many male colleagues said that her story brought them closer to understanding women in their lives who had suffered the same.
As a storyteller, you have to do what we call the work. Our job is to feel our way through all the feelings of an experience, whatever those were, so that the story becomes something we can offer others without burdening them. Once a story no longer has any personal emotional charge, it is a clear vessel, like a lake. Anyone can dip into it and find comfort, guidance or a laugh. This is how personal storytelling heals both teller and listener.
Good Medicine for Our Crazy Times
Stories leave us free. They don`t manipulate or demand anything of their listeners. When I ask an audience at the end of a telling to share any images from the story that touched them, there is always great variety. People respond uniquely to different aspects of a story — we can identify with the witch or the bitch, the heroine or her mother. This makes stories different from an argument or factual presentation, which are directive of a listener`s attention — and arguably less effective. Stories don't polarise, they create connection.
Stories are also mysteriously alive. Any storyteller will tell you that no one telling is ever the same. A story adapts and molds itself to its audience. In our wired, anonymous age, storytelling is the live human experience we all miss — it happens once and can never be repeated in quite the same way.
Many indigenous cultures refer to stories as medicine. A good story, the elders say, arrives at the right time like tonic for the soul. The old folk tales, myths and fairy tales are ancient life manuals, honed by generations of human community. They deal with the whole spectrum of what it means to live a human life — relationships, meaning, loss, greed, family rifts, creativity. If you allow a story to speak to you, it will bring depth and meaning to your life. This is why Tell Me a Story, the storytelling community I founded, always includes a traditional story, myth or folk tale as part of its monthly theme.
Ready to dive into your own story chest? Sign up to join Tell Me a Story and receive your first story challenge! Our theme for July is SETTING OUT — remember a time in your life when you heard a call to do something differently, and set out? What happened next? Book now to meet a great crew of fellow story makers on July 30 at the LIBRARY Club in Soho, London.
