The Mattering of Stories

photograph by Christina Wocintech

by Scott Swanson 

Whether we are formally accompanying a directee, or informally living our lives with family and friends, stories matter in at least two ways. What we hear from our directees are the stories of their life – the people and things that matter to them, hopes and dreams, losses and grief. Stories matter because they are in one sense the matter – the stuff – of a life.

The artists and poets have always known this. Richard Wagamese reminded us that, “All that we are is story. From the moment we are born to the time we continue on our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here.”

If each person we meet can be thought of as a walking library, we do not encounter the stories from those libraries in a vacuum. Each story comes with its own context: the intonation, body language, facial expression and gestures of the person; what we already know of this person’s life; our own history with them. All this is filtered through our own experience. In fact, most of our reactions in life are not to things themselves, but to the stories we tell others and ourselves about those things. This is why two people can react to the same thing in very different ways. They are telling themselves different stories.
 
David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk known for his work on gratitude, tells the story of, many years ago, another driver cutting him off in Manhattan traffic. His understandable response was to get angry and assume the worst of the culprit. Recognizing how that response was not consistent with his desire to live gratefully, he told himself that in the back of the car that cut him off, there was a woman in labour. The driver was rushing to get to the hospital on time. With that reframe, Steindl-Rast was eventually able to make his automatic response to being cut off, “Oh, I hope they get wherever it is they need to be on time.”
 

The second way stories matter is they are the means by which we interpret experience. As the biographer Anaïs Nin wrote (quoting the Babylonian Talmud), “We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are.”
 
One of the beautiful things about a long-term spiritual direction relationship is the accumulation of story - like layers of sediment. I want to remember others’ stories as my director remembers mine. Rather than think I can suspend using stories as interpretations of experiences, my intention is to be open to being surprised by a story I wasn’t expecting. I want to trust that in Spirit’s presence, this person and I are co-creating another line in our small part of the Great Story being told through us.


Scott Swanson

is a congregational minister, spiritual director, and holistic coach. His latest initiative helps men change the stories they tell themselves and others so they can release renewed purpose, freedom, and creativity for the second half of life. Read more about Scott's spiritual direction practice here.

To learn more about Scott and his work or to send him a message, go to Personalstorycoach.com


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