How often have you heard someone say, “I didn’t pick the book, the book picked me.”? If you are a storyteller you have probably had the same experience where the story that wanted to be told kept whispering in your ear, “Pick me, pick me.”
I started the 2023 Spring Semester in which I was taking the course, Sacred Stories with a goal and a preconceived idea.
Goal: Retell stories from my repertoire
Preconceived Idea: What Sacred Stories are. Hence, I had already picked the stories from my repertoire that I was going to tell during the semester; Legend of St. Christopher, Folktale of the Woodcutter and (Archangel) Behram Yazad, and the Myth of Baldr the Beautiful.
You may notice that personal stories did not make the cut.
I decided to tell the story of the Woodcutter and (Archangel) Behram Yazad as my first story. But a personal story started whispering to me, “Tell me, tell me.” I kept pushing it aside because it didn’t fit my preconceived idea of what a sacred story is; sacred stories are religious stories and stories of belief. The sound not only started getting louder and louder but while I would be practicing the story of the Woodcutter I would all of a sudden start thinking about parts of the personal story I had told almost a year ago for Mother’s Day. It was time to surrender.
So, I dug out the storyboard for my story, “I Am My Mothers” and saw it with fresh eyes. It was no more just a story about three women who had cared for and nurtured me. The story allowed me to deeply reconnect with the love of each of these women; my aya (nanny) Taro, my Katy mummy, and my mother, Arnavaz. After all, what is more sacred than love?
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