We
can tell stories about food, but food is not a narrative. In its meal form,
food does have a beginning, middle, and end. But we have this human capacity to
transform practical experiences - peeling carrots, unwrapping onions,
reconstructing tofu - into a story. How much more do we use this capacity for
seeing story in those things that really matter to us - the death of a
spouse, the sight of sheer cruelty to the young or vulnerable, the hope in a
wedding, the solace in a friendship.
Where
do we find such stories in our lives - where are they hidden in our gestures
and conversations? Stories structure our lives: we may tell a story at the
dinner table, we may read the story, see it on TV or in a film. But the way
story structures our lives is way more internal than reading, watching, or
hearing a story. We get up each day in media res-in the middle of
things. We usually remember our pasts, even if it's only yesterday, and with
each dawn we head toward our future. Our routine of past, present, and future
keeps us in a story mode of operation.
It's
when we stop to configure a story - put it into words, letter, article, film -
that we make something concrete out of something fleeting from our ongoing storying.
Jim Hull, in his film analyses in Narrative First, calls this story-making a construct
that most humans use for the purpose of better understanding.
Why
is it a good thing to configure a story, or create a construct? The story gives
shape to scattered events. The shape stops the kaleidoscope from spinning. It
points to the patterns. The sequencing of a plot sharpens decision-making.
Story opens a path to understanding.
Our
stories teach us and push us to fuller understanding. This
human capacity to story is so woven through our lives that we can use it
on superficial experience or on deeply moving events. The stories we tell most
often come from our attempts to make sense of our world - of things that happen
to us or to others. In other words, the story we stop to configure is our
response to our practical and extraordinary experiences in time. That story
allows us to see one, two, or many points of view and reminds us of the
paradoxes we live with, decide on, and travel by.
To
create these stories, we often use the literary tradition: we remember and
quote from others' stories. By doing so, philosophers tell us, we serve the
memory of past human beings and past events: Mark Twain's humor, Toni
Morrison's haunting reaches into history, Elie Wiesel's experiences, Abraham
Lincoln's courage. We use figurative language such as metaphor to widen the
scope of one experience and connect to many - the way a cup contains morning
coffee, the newspaper holds our daily start, or the way a poem acts, as
Robert Frost said, to remind us of "what it would impoverish us to
forget."
When
someone calls us to a meal, how often do we hear the conversation starter,
"That reminds me of a story." What stories stand out for you in that
daily effort toward making sense of our world?
