02/25/2019
In the process of hearing peoples’ stories I have gained a greater appreciation for both the larger and the more universal narratives that shape our culture. We are, it seems, all part of “the big story”. Within the stories of our lives are universal themes like love and loss; grief and triumph; success and failure; attachment and abandonment. Around these themes we have, for better and for worse, developed expectations and patterns of reacting, rituals and traditions that provide pathways which we follow, often unconsciously until we find ourselves wanting to claim a more individual or unique path.
There are many steps in this claiming. I received an important lesson from my granddaughter. Her grandpa and I were staying with her and her little brother while her parents were away for a weekend. On the morning of their return, Zoe (nine years old), Grandpa and I were playing monopoly . I left the game to attend to the baby and when I came back, Zoe had left the table and was watching a video with her head phones on. After a time my husband asked her if she was done playing the game and she lifted her head phone long enough to say “Yes”. So we picked up the game and put it away. In time, the video ended and she returned to the table where the game had been.
“Where is the game,” she demanded.
“We put it away. We thought you said you were done.”
Outrage.Tears. “No, I meant not right then.”
“We could play again,” we countered.
“Nooo I wanted to play THAT game.I was winning!”
More tears, a slammed bedroom door. After another while I went to her. “Zoe,” I said, “ I am so sorry there was a misunderstanding about the game. Grandpa and I both heard you say you were done playing. We did not take time to be sure you understood. This sounds like a story with an unhappy ending.”
“Yes.” she said. “And it’s a TRUE story”.
“Yes it is,” I said. “Maybe there is more to the story that can give it a different ending. Why don’t you think about it and if you can figure out a way to make a different ending, Grandpa and I will we out there waiting to help.”
In a few minutes she came out.
“I want to play the game again,” she said.
“Okay,” I said. “I have started the dishes. Could you and grandpa just play the game?”
“ No.” she said. “Having you play with us is part of my happy ending.”
So I did!
“And it’s a true story.”
For better and for worse, whatever story we tell, even a lie, carries a truth. It is the truth of the felt, if often unconscious, need of the teller to shape or to preserve some aspect of identity in relation to the big story that connects us all.