Importance of Story
Recently I attended a memorial service for a friend and sailing companion I had known for several years. His name was Richard. He was one of those people that we sometimes have the good fortune to meet. Richard was a generous, welcoming and enthusiastic friend. He went to great efforts to be inclusive and considerate of other people’s needs and feelings. He was a great sailor and a great teacher. I would consider myself a passably fair novice yachtsman, and now when I venture forth on the waters of eastern Australia I often hear his words of wisdom guiding my sailing choices.
The experience of attending his service was full of sadness and joy. Sadness naturally at the loss of a friend and for others who would miss him dearly. Joy for the heart-felt stories that some of his friends shared as they stood before the assembled. As I sat and listened to the stories of Richard something profound occurred. I understood the power of story more than ever before. I realised I was getting to know more about Richard than I had ever known. The stories went back years before I had met him and encompassed his experiences with groups of his friends that I’d never met. As each story unfolded the picture of Richard grew and grew and I was introduced to a man of many talents: his appreciation for music, his unending positive approach to life, his ability to break down the inner workings of anything mechanical or electronic that took his fancy, has passion for racing cars, his love of the Whitsunday Islands, his sense of fun and play and mischievous approach to life and of course his enduring love for his wife and soul mate Deirdre.
Richard was revealed to me through story. Each story had Richard as its essential ingredient. Added to this were the different complexions of each story-teller’s experiences and ways of telling. The qualities common to each teller were love and care for their departed friend, a spirit of generosity and open-heartedness and a specific memory of a shared experience. Through these stories I received the essence of Richard, something for me to remember as much as I would remember my experiences with him.
These stories were precious gifts lovingly received and lovingly told. The power of story was evident. The experience visceral. My imagination was engaged and enlivened. I was transported to other times and places and watched the play unfold from the sideline – laughing and weeping in and with memories that would now become my own.
These stories were profoundly enriching. Far more complete than a list breaking down Richard’s qualities or activities could ever be. Just as it is with the separate pixels of an image or single words on a page or the individual ingredients of a meal, it is not until they are married together and we step back and savour the picture, the story or the meal, that we really experience the true nature of the whole.
The actor as a story teller plays her part in giving us the whole experience. To engage us and allow us to experience the story she must move beyond herself and enter the story she is telling. It is not about the actor in the story it is about the story in the actor.
Stories are window’s: they enable us to see out and they help us look in. The stories I heard that day of Richard certainly gave me that window – I see him now as I look out and I see myself as I look in. Joy and sadness are one and the story is told.