Do you have a list of “used to do” things? Like, “I used to run, but then my knees…,” “I used to smoke, but yuck…,” “I used to do, like, want…but now….” You get the idea. Of the many things I “used to do” but haven’t for a long time, is meditate. I’d even spend weekends on meditation retreats. But about 15 years ago, it stopped. My job changed. I didn’t have the time. My heart wasn’t in it.
So when I saw a class at a nearby yoga studio on “Mindfulness” it seemed to me a good idea to get reacquainted again with this practice. Besides, the class was only for three weeks, was just 90 minutes, and was only once a week. That seemed doable. I signed up, and joined three others who all knew the instructor, who all had some history with each other. Gulp. I was the new person, there was no escape. I had thought that if I didn’t like it, I could just drop out, or leave early, or sit in the back of the room. You can’t do that when you are in a small circle and expected to well, participate. So after forgetting to do the homework the first week—sitting quietly for five minutes, doing a small amount of reading, keeping a journal, even if just a sentence or two—I decided to commit to doing what I had signed up to do, to be mindful.
The class is based on the pioneering work of Jon Kabat-Zinn, who brought together the ancient teachings of Zen Buddhism with scientific research. In other words, there is plenty to recommend the habit of sitting quietly for 15 to 20 minutes each day to a Western mindset: it helps reduce stress, brings you into the present moment, creates a sense of space between reaction and action.
But as I took part in the class and spent time on the readings and the recommended videos, it occurred to me that storytelling provides the same kind of increased awareness and attention that mindful meditation does. In a story circle, we listen with awareness and appreciation; we tell with intent and with a heightened need to share with creativity and resourcefulness. This is much like the recommended practices of mindfulness - to focus on being truthful, being kind, and saying only what is necessary.
This is the practice of storytelling too. It asks us to be true to ourselves, to genuinely love the story we are telling. When we listen to each other, we do with our hearts and minds open, and in doing so, we practice kindness. And saying only what is necessary—essential in telling a good story. Our teacher, Liz Warren, says “time and structure” are the storytellers’ friends. When we tell only what is necessary, we select what is true to us at that moment.
Coming back to sitting quietly for 15 to 20 minutes each day is not on my “used to do” list anymore. But it is storytelling circles that got me there. Storytelling, as a listener and as a teller, continues to open my heart and mind to what is “true, kind and necessary,” - each other, and the stories we share.
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