Stories matter
I remember the first time I traveled overseas, it was a trip to America when I was 22 to work as a Camp Counselor at a summer camp in Massachusetts. My first stop was LA, then New York and finally Camp Emerson which is in the beautiful Berkshire mountains of Massachusetts.
It was on my way to the camp that it struck me, maybe I had been lied to, maybe Australia wasn’t the most beautiful place in the world, because what I was seeing with my own eyes was pretty damn beautiful. Golden light pierced its way through lush green trees that provided a reprieve from the hot summer sun. The canopies of the trees were so thick that you got the sense that nature came first here and humans had been granted permission to build roads through the dense forest for ease of travel. There were new species of animals I had never seen before, the most dangerous being the spiders that were no bigger than a daddy long legs on steroids, that’s beautiful in my book.
I wasn’t annoyed that I had possibly been lied to; it actually filled me with excitement, like I had discovered something that the others hadn’t seen yet and even more than that I had found something just as beautiful as the place I came from. In that moment it became clear to me that there was no need to compete, no need to be the most of anything (most beautiful, most visited, most passionate, most awarded, most …..) I wondered, if where I came from is beautiful and where I am right now is beautiful, could that mean that there is beauty everywhere?
When I returned home I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about the discovery I had made but to my surprise it didn’t go down well, when I excitedly declared that I now knew that Australia wasn’t the most beautiful country in the world it was like I had set fire to the Australian flag. As though I had betrayed my country men and women. I had appeared to have broken a rule I had no idea even existed, I had strayed from the narrative that Australia was and always will be the most beautiful country in the world (in an Aussie, Aussie, Aussie kind of way)
I was pretty confused by this response and like a scared turtle I pulled my head back into my shell. Maybe I was wrong, if all these people are saying it, I must have been wrong but I couldn’t let go of the senses of my own body. I knew what I had seen and experienced. I knew I wasn’t wrong. I also knew I didn’t want to compete, I never wanted it to be one over the other, I just wanted (and still want) others to see that beauty is everywhere, wisdom is everywhere. Love is everywhere.
I share this story with you to illustrate the power of narrative. Stories are everywhere, they define nations, teach us right from wrong, tell us what is dangerous, what is safe, who is safe. The thing about stories is that they are made up which means that they can also change and the way one person tells a story is totally different to the next person.
What stories are you choosing to tell?
