A circle of storytellers

When I call up my images of storytellers and storytelling, I see a circle of faces gathered around a glowing campfire, ears cocked, knees in the dirt. One story is shared, and then another, and the tellers riff like jazz musicians, bending the notes, holding the melody. Many human societies were organized around this activity, just this way, with tellers who saved and polished the stories that came to them, the ones they alone could tell, to instruct, compete, entertain, and weave the world. The circle of storytellers were often women passing an imaginary baton, telling story after story, listening and learning and enjoying the homage paid by the listeners gathered outside their circle, the honor bestowed on them as the guardians of the soul and history of the community.

At last month's Roundtable, with this image in mind, I said, "Wow, imagine if, instead of Congress, we had a circle of storytellers." Of course, as a member of the group reminded me, we do. Congress is a gathering of storytellers. The problem is, no one thinks of Congress that way. They don't know it and we don't know it. Congress people debate facts gathered from experts, although some of them sure spin tales and fabricate fictions when it's handy. But those are simply lies.

What if we all knew that Congress is our circle of storytellers? Some of them would have to be replaced right away because they can't tell a good story and/or they can't tell one well. Good-bye boring speakers. That would be the first improvement, one that sets the stage for the next. I think that if Congress deliberately operated as a circle of storytellers, we'd get a new, better story---a conscious, guiding vision for the country that works for everyone, not just Halliburton and the banks. For one thing, there would be a different kind of ceremony and a different kind of respect for the process. No more blabbing, no more talking for the video monitor in an otherwise empty room. And Congress would be handling something with real weight, not like all these so-called facts tossed around like dry leaves. Facts are a lot like plastic groceries bags; someone hands you one when you need it and after a brief period of employment the thing gets stuffed in the broom closet or tossed in the trash, to be replaced by another one, equally expendable, when the need arises. You can do that with a fact. You can't do that with a story.

The stories told in a culture that understands the power of words and reality of stories, aren't just told to entertain or instruct the listeners. They are told and retold because the stories themselves are evaluated, tweaked, or simply allowed to retire because they no longer create the kind of society and world that the tellers and listeners want to inhabit. No one cares if the story is "true" in the literal sense, at least, that's not the only criteria. People judge the story on the basis of its usefulness. If this story is told, if I take this story to my heart, what must I value, how do I operate, and is that good for me, for my community? A good story makes a good world. When someone hears a good story she feels/hears/senses her place in that story and it works, she'll take it. Stories that make a good world unite words and ideas and values and actions. No one gets up and spins a beautiful tale of love and hope and hardship surmounted and everyone gathered around a table laden with food and chairs enough for everyone and then in the next breath reports that 740,000 people in our community are homeless but according to the facts we can't afford to do anything about it. No one who understand story anyway.

We live in a schizophrenic society because we don't, because we separate story from the serious business of truth, because we separate fact from fiction, because we don't know our own stories, listen to them, and hold ourselves accountable to and for them. But we could. Many people have.