We sat around the campfire and Shaddon shared stories of mice befriending elephants and setting sail across the seas. We took turns going around the circle of three with Shaddon setting the pace with “your turn!” Each time it was my turn to tell a story I drew a blank— what story would I tell? What tales would I draw upon? Could I turn my childhood memories into captivating campfire stories?
Two things were reconfirmed this weekend: 1. The power of storytelling and imagination, and 2. That s’more making is a science. And apparently, my science is much like a 3 year olds. It’s simple: I boldly stick the marshmellow directly into the campfire and let it catch. I then wait a few seconds until its nice and roasty & toasty and blow it out. There’s no rotating, or waiting, or letting the sides get a nice golden color. It’s the “go big or go home” approach.
This approach can also be applied to the stories you choose to live, to tell. Think about the stories you currently live, and imagine the wonderful places these stories can take you. Imagine big and bold and see what happens.
“I come from a long line of tellers: mesemondok, old Hungarian women who tell while sitting on wooden chairs with their plastic pocketbooks on their laps, their knees apart, their skirts touching the ground… and cuentistas, old Latina women who stand, robust of breast, hips wide, and cry out the story ranchera style. Both clans storytell in the plain voice of women who have lived blood and babies, bread and bones. For them, story is a medicine which strengthens and arights the individual and the community.” —Clarissa Pinkola Estes