How Stories Shape Us
Part II: Stories As Sacred Encounters
* This is part II of III for the essay series How Stories Shape Us
A 16-minute read and/or listen.
We are human only in contact,
and conviviality, with what is not human.— David Abram
Stories are not mere narratives; they are creative tethers that connect us to the heartbeat of our wild, animate Earth. Like rivers coursing through the land, they carry the lifeblood of our collective experiences, flowing in and out of the vast oceanic waters of our shared ancestral wisdom.
Stories facilitate sense-making in our lives by grounding us in the myriad narratives that spring forth from the web of life, teeming with sensory information and profound meaning. They remind us of the regenerative power that permeates our Earthly realm, where rivers are guided, rains inspired, mountains born; where creatures of all waters and terrains manifest. They reveal our integral place within the vast intelligence that permeates all of existence.
Stories (re)kindle our understanding of who we are, what we seek, where we belong, and why our existence matters. They (re)generate a sense of purpose, ignite desires, fulfil our yearnings, and deepen our understanding of reality. This has been their enduring function throughout time.
By way of storytelling, we embark on profound explorations that creatively bridge our human consciousness with the mythic forces of nature. Stories become portals, transporting us to alluring and tantalising territories where we commune with the land, the wind, the creatures, and our unfathomable subconscious. Through these enigmatic encounters, we have the opportunity to cultivate genuine respect and reverence for the Earth in its diverse manifestations, cherishing our fundamental synergistic relationship with its rhythmic patterns, forms, and cycles.
While certain perspectives may reinforce a sense of separation between ourselves, others, and the natural world, some stories have the potential to (re)awaken and (re)invigorate our lived perception of reality, enabling us to discern the delicate nuances, intricacies, and interconnectedness of the animated world. They can foster a profound dialogue with the 'other,' facilitating a deeper understanding of the 'self’, inviting a more comprehensive ‘self-and-other’ mode of understanding, expression, and being.
Stories are sacred encounters.
While it is easy for many of us to overlook this holy remembrance, various Indigenous peoples across our great Earth have upheld this profound understanding throughout generations and the passage of time. The languages and narratives of Indigenous peoples exist in inseparable unity with the land that nurtures them, symbolising the inherent intricate and interdependent relationship between human communities and their natural environments. This profound connection encompasses a vivid comprehension of the geography, cycles, and systems at play.
The local flows of spirit, energy, and matter are acknowledged, expressed, revered, and celebrated through the language, songs, and stories of these land-based collectives. Ecological knowledge, ancestral wisdom, and spiritual communion with the land are seamlessly interwoven into their living discourse. The stories, whether spoken, sung, or danced, weave intricate narratives that pay homage to the diverse manifestations of their surroundings. Even the intangible and invisible find expressive and reverential form.
I am not intending to idealise or romanticise Indigenous culture, language, or storytelling, but rather attempting to highlight the origins of such innate human capabilities and shed light on the essential, elemental, and wild inspiration from which any form of communication could have possibly emerged in the first place. We are all descendants of Indigenous, land-based peoples. Across our expansive Earth, our ancestors breathed life into words, stories, and songs as a means to connect and convey profound insights about the complex, living essence of the Earthly moment in which they were deeply entangled and to which they were wholly devoted.
Similar to numerous contemporary narratives, Indigenous stories pulsate with mythological beings, creatures, elements, and natural forces — characters infused with intricate and layered meanings, embodying wisdom and imparting timeless teachings that encompass both the practical and the profoundly metaphysical. Within such teachings reside lessons of life and death, the realms of water and land, the celestial and the infernal, the mundane and the profane, and so on, all intimately enmeshed with the past-present-future-moment.
By journeying through the imagination, alongside mythic characters and teachings, one can learn nearly everything there is to know about living a life of honesty, integrity, relationship, safety, courage, hope, despair, love, grief, desire, and significance. Powerful lessons about the specificities of a community-ecology can be effortlessly and creatively communicated, fostering recollection, welcoming participation, and igniting the intention to integrate life's diverse fragments into a harmonious and meaningful story, where past, present, and future knowledge are braided into a living wisdom — an ethos of communal connections.
For many reasons (most of which are beyond the scope of this essay), modern languages have increasingly abstracted themselves away from their Earth-centred, ecological origins. However, the capacity for animate story and dialogue is still very much alive. The following short story highlights such capacity. For our purposes here, it is to be shared in English, but it originated amongst the Indigenous culture of the Haida peoples of the Pacific Northwest.
Once, in the time of darkness, when the world was without light, there lived a powerful chief who possessed the Sun, Moon, and Stars. This chief guarded them jealously, keeping their radiance hidden from the rest of the world. The people lived in perpetual darkness, stumbling through their lives without the guidance of light.
In this dark realm, Raven, a mischievous and cunning bird, observed the chief and became consumed by curiosity. He longed to illuminate the world, to chase away the eternal night. With his sleek black feathers and sharp wit, Raven devised a plan to steal the luminous treasures from the chief.
One day, Raven transformed himself into a small cedar needle and fell into the chief's water vessel. When the chief's daughter drank from the vessel, she unknowingly ingested Raven, who transformed himself once more, this time into a human child, taking his place in her womb. Time passed, and the daughter gave birth to a baby boy, unaware of the extraordinary being she had brought into the world.
As the child grew, so did his insatiable curiosity. Raven's mischief and inquisitiveness became legendary among the Haida people. One day, while playing near the powerful chief's dwelling, Raven noticed a wooden box tightly secured with ropes. He knew that within this box lay the luminous treasures he sought – the Sun, Moon, and Stars.
With his nimble beak, Raven began to unravel the ropes, bit by bit, until the box sprang open, revealing the brilliant celestial orbs. The light spilled out, flooding the world with its radiance. The people rejoiced, revelling in the newfound illumination that transformed night into day.
But Raven's journey was not without consequences. The chief, enraged by the theft, pursued Raven with fervour. Yet Raven, fueled by his cunning and the power of the stolen light, soared through the sky, out of reach of the furious chief. In his escape, Raven scattered the Sun, Moon, and Stars across the Heavens, ensuring that light would forever grace the world.
From that day forward, the Haida people honoured Raven as the bringer of light and the guardian of illumination. Raven's audacious act of thievery taught them the value of curiosity, the transformative power of boldness, and the delicate balance between light and dark.
I am sure many of us have a very different understanding about how the Sun, Moon, and Stars came to be. We could begin discussing gaseous chemistry, atomic energy, gravitational mass, and so on and so forth. We could talk about God, or Gods and Goddesses that are very different from Raven, who had a hand in such creative pursuits. Those can be good stories too, no doubt.
Some questions to ask: What brings the animate Kosmos more alive in our awareness? Which stories invite more reverence and appreciation for the many others, formed and formless, that live alongside us? Which stories hold the sacred near and dear? Which stories invite us to wonder and marvel at the curious characteristics of nature at play? Which stories make our heart grow fonder of the mysteries of life and pain, love and death? Which stories inspire us to live a more joyous, sensitive, compassionate, harmonious, and loving life?
The answer: only you can know.
For stories to become sacred encounters once again, we need to, in essence, re-Indigenise our orientation. This does not require us to abandon science or other approaches to storytelling and understanding. We need not completely overhaul our syntax and vocabulary. However, cultivating a heightened awareness of the essence of our stories is crucial. This includes recognising the subjective experience we have as storytellers who live amongst, and co-create narratives, with the wider world around us.
Said another way, it is not about the ‘what’ of our stories necessarily, but the ‘how’ — as in, How does the living world feel within the terrain of my sensory experience? And how do I attempt to humbly convey that feeling in a way that evokes and invokes as much vivid aliveness and vitality as is felt while in momentary communion with the original sensorial experience in which it arose? In other words, How do I become more integral, honest, reciprocal, reverential, and enlivened in my storying capacities?
Here, I tell a story about waking to another day, oceanside, in early spring:
With the emergence of the first rays of dawn, Sky Woman blushes, blending passionate crimson with golden tendrils, causing the heavens to rejoice!
Birdsong gracefully awakens the atmosphere, waves lazily lap onto the sleepy shore, and leaves begin their fluttering, fumbling dance, welcoming the generous, loving light back into the grateful, green world.
The elements joyously take their place as poets of sensation as another dawn bears a new day.
Soil, rich and dark, pulses with invisible life. Slow, steady vibrations reverberate up through countless feet and into the marrow of sun-white bones, grounding the life-blood of an ancient lineage, holding the foundation of a trillion significant stories.
Windswept breath of life, unseen and omnipresent, weaves melodies, carrying sounded and scented messages from far-off places. Memories stir; emotions rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, like rolling hills that dance with meandering brooks amongst wildflowers that sing hymns of life and death.
Textures serve as gateways to hidden dimensions. Rough bark, reminiscent of ancient braille, reveals tales of community, belonging, and patience. Velvet moss tingles and dampens, cools and comforts, inspiring songs of love and rejuvenation. Pebbles hard and smooth, poke and soothe, sharpening awareness, awakening curiosity, about aeons past.
Smells become tastes. Colours become sounds. Breath turns to song. Song becomes praise.
To encapsulate our exploration, let's ponder the profound core: stories are more than mere narratives; they are interconnected pathways linking us to the vibrant pulse of our collective existence. Should we embrace them whole-heartedly, stories become sacred encounters both within and beyond ourselves. These encounters hold the potential to offer everything essential for a life imbued with real meaning and significance.
As we journey forward, into the next part of this essay series, we will delve deeper into how stories become the transformative catalysts that shape our existence. We'll unravel how embodying this transformative power can lead to a more harmonious and purposeful existence, not only for ourselves but for everyone and all of life.
* This is part II of III for the essay series How Stories Shape Us