When I was 17, I met my first storyteller. She was sitting on the floor wearing a “skirt of many colors” spread out around her, surrounded by children. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to be a storyteller. My vision of what that meant back then was to tell tales and capture the hearts, minds and imaginations of those around me. But these stories were already written and proven.
It wasn’t until about 10 years ago that I discovered the art of personal storytelling. I grew up listening to the stories my father told but it never occurred to me that others outside a family might want to hear personal stories. This new idea captivated me and made me think about why personal storytelling is so compelling.
Last month I spent time with friends in the mountains. As we sat around visiting I realized I was surrounded by storytellers who didn’t even know it, and their stories were beautiful. Telling stories is how we let people know who we are. It’s how we tell the story of our lives. As we do this, we see the similarities in those around us and come to understand the differences. We form connections and we strengthen the bonds of friendship.
Telling personal stories has caused me to dig deeper and try to understand what I have learned from my life experiences. It has brought meaning to my sorrows and renewed joy in my triumphs. As I learn to share my stories, my hope is that each story I tell can help or inspire or spark a thought in at least one other person. Or cause others to want to share. Or even just strengthen a friendship.
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