Our stories begin when we are young. They begin with our experiences: love, sadness, joy, pain, separation, physical injury, chocolate bars, flying kites at the beach, riding with no handlebars down a hill, going with our father to see his work, shopping with mom in the perfume-laden department store, seeing other humans do the things they do. We notice that there are patterns to these phenomena. Dinner comes when the clock shows a 6 followed by a : and a 30. Dad comes home later on Wednesdays and we don't usually play with him then. Other kids want to hang out with us when we have a new, shiny bike with shock absorbers. Two brownies are great, and the third sits uneasily in our stomach. When adults drink alcohol, they smell and act differently. People's faces and body language sometimes match the words they are saying, and sometimes they don't. We get some reward for being obedient in school. Soft sheets and blankets feel good when we climb into bed. Our lives begin to take shape around these patterns, as we participate in and create ever more complex and lengthy ones.
As humans we also begin early in life (at birth perhaps, definitely within the first few years) to tell ourselves stories about the reasons why things happen. I get a hug more quickly when I've already cleaned up the legos by bedtime, because mom is happier. Polite people don't burp at the dinner table because it offends others. Our parents drive to work because they need to work to earn money. Fast-food chains use throwaway everything because it's cheaper that way, and cheaper is better. There are as many stories as there are interactions in the world.
The renowned linguist Benjamin Whorf posited the idea that our language is both a platform for and a fence around our worldview. Our stories function in much the same way. With language, we can communicate complex ideas clearly and simply with language. We generate words like praxis, relativity, and entheogenic to expand the world as we conceptualize it in our mind. When we change from passive to active voice, we feel more clarity about who is doing what in the world. On the flip side, people who come from cultures without the language of individual ownership have/had trouble participating in a private property society like ours. When we reify concepts (Government keeps messing with my healthcare rights!), we obscure who is actually doing something (We elected a few people, they hired a lot of other people who go to work and write legislation that is enforced by other people who threaten violence, imprisonment, or other penalties for breaking their laws). These are a few of the things we do.
We do the same things with the stories we tell, sometimes because of the language we use but also by arbitrarily embracing some stories while rejecting others. We tell ourselves that we need to drive because we live far away from work, friends, and the stores we frequent. We see hope for the future in news articles about 'green' buildings built from recycled industrial waste products. We 'know' that our father didn't love us or mom because he didn't tell us the truth about having an affair. We 'know' that, sadly, life just doesn't work that way. We know that grassroots activism is a nice idea but it's not effective in changing the world. You've got to have mass mailing campaigns if you want to save the rainforest.
On the warmer, fuzzier side, we also tell stories about how we function well. We describe ourselves as having overcome traumatic relationships and emerged stronger and wiser. We recognize that we don't want to devote life to playing video games. Yoga and meditation are always good for you. We are a closer family because we came together after grandpa died. We inspired two dozen people to meditate regularly last year. Both of these lists are endless.
What do all these things have in common? They are stories! They are mostly based on little bits of data gathered by us in our tiny slice of experiencing the universe. This is the key to the whole matter. There is so much that we don't know about cause and effect in the world around us. We do have some very gross, rough control over what happens to us. We can choose where to go to work, whom to marry, whether to toss it in the recycling bin, how much caffeine to consume, whether to buy fair trade-labeled products, what we devote life to talking about, and many other choices that shape our days. However, as many psychologists have told us, we as humans seem to have a fundamental need to have a coherent story or narrative about the world around us. To achieve a functional narrative that at least appears durable and stable, we fill in and smooth over blind spots by telling ourselves simple, all-encompassing stories about the World and How It Works. It is a natural process that we all engage in, and seems to be a key to basic mental health and our ability to wake up each day to live our lives. How could we really function at all without a coherent narrative tying together all the sensory inputs we get from the world around us?
When we start to tell ourselves stories as black-and-white, brick-and-mortar reality, however, we run into problems right away. We begin to narrow our sense of what is possible by limiting our ideas about reality to the stories that we tell and to which we eventually cling with an iron grip. When I drive a car as my main means of getting around for a decade, I lose my ability to imagine how I might be bicycle-based instead. When I get much of my information from corporate nightly news broadcasts, I believe that "the environment" is just another issue to be considered alongside politics, religion, economics, etc., rather than the underpinning for all life on the planet and therefore worthy of our immediate, full attention. When I see most others around me working at stressful, disempowered jobs and seeking to release tension through alcohol and Hollywood entertainment, I come to believe that this is how to live a balanced life. When my story is that I need Them tell Us what's healthy/beneficial/useful, I literally lose the ability to remember that I can discover these things myself.
If our stories are limiting, we impoverish ourselves. I have long believed that poverty is as much tied to our stories as it is to how much cash we have stuffed in our mattresses or Manhattan apartments. If you have 10 million dollars in the bank, but can't imagine raising a family on less than 20 (don't laugh, some people believe this) than you are impoverished (i.e. not free) because of your story. If you're a poor farmer in Thailand, but have good food, family, and health to live out the rest of your foreseeable future, then your story of 'enough' makes you wealthy. If your story is that we are all in this global crisis together, then you'll feel more empathy with other human beings throughout the world (and perhaps less inclined to bomb/sanction/enslave them). If your story is that you have the one Right understanding of God, government, or how to be a contributing member of society, I predict you'll be more likely to react with fear and anger when you encounter other people (anyone, really) who deviate from your storyline.
What is your story? Is the world full of possibility? Is your life full of potential? Is life nasty, brutish, and short? Is it Us vs. Them? How much is Enough? Is death something to be afraid of? Do you need to fight aging with botox, make-up, and hair color because old is ugly? Is a conversation full of gossip and complaint a worthwhile use of your life? When you see high school kids getting high, laughing, and playing in a park, is this scary or perhaps beautiful? When someone hits on you in the coffeehouse, is it a threat or a compliment? Is your life sacred, or is it something that you have to trudge through while keeping your chin up?
Here's the magical twist on stories: by changing our stories, we can change our life. When we change the language we use and the thoughts we have about the world and our place in it, we actually feel different. At the recommendation of a skilled therapist, I tried out writing a brief story of my life both as a victim and as a hero. After writing the victim story, I felt deflated and empty. After writing the hero version, I actually went on to do some good creative writing in the weeks that followed because I felt so good about myself. When I tell the story that my struggle with my mom is centered around her fear of growing older and my fear of not being loved and understood, I feel more compassion for both of us, rather than feeling impatient and angry with her for not being how I want her to be. When my story is that I'm learning more about what kind of person I want to partner with, I actually feel excited and optimistic that I've yet to pair up and have kids, rather than feeling despondent that I'm "behind the game." This is the power of stories.
What is the point of all this? I want to encourage you to take a little space from your stories about yourself and your life. I and others have found that when we create a little space, i.e. when we remember that our stories are NOT reality, we infinitely increase our ability to relax, take a breath, and imagine more possibilities in life. What if we can be more scientific about our values? What if we're not as healthy as we thought we were? What if more "green" technology is not enough to "save" our present global society? What if it isn't about Us vs. Them? What if there is more to life than money (come now, let's be honest that when we say that we're rarely giving more than the thinnest lip service to the idea)? What if we're actually addicted to most legal drugs and failing to avail ourselves of the benefits of the other ones? What if getting misty-eyed about democracy and free-markets doesn't really amount to a hill of sustainably-harvested beans? What if we don't need to be afraid of so much because we'll handle whatever happens? What if we really are being selfish defectors from the greater common good by using power that comes from gasoline and coal? What does it mean if all our technological advances have downsides that we can't foresee?
We an also create space to live with more fulfillment than we previously thought possible. What if I am the type of person to do yoga twice a week? What if I can switch from coffee to green tea? What if I sit down at dinner and say to my friends that I'm concerned about the state of the global ecosystem? What if I am the kind of person to say "I love you"? What if my actions do speak louder than my words? What if I go for a walk without my iPhone? What if I am the kind of person to write a blog in the hopes that it can be a light in the world? What if I don't feel good about resignation, and want to be an agent in my own life instead?
The answers to these questions are the beginnings of new stories. What will your story be today, tomorrow, and in the future? I invite you to comment right below this posting. Click the button, change your story and mine for the better. Let's get free.
