Storytelling As A Path To Peace

I felt emotionally drained and vulnerable after I had written and posted my last blog.

I had publicly acknowledged parts of myself that seemed risky to make known. And, I wasn’t exactly sure I liked what I had done.

I had publicly confessed to traveling back and forth between two worlds; the physical and the spiritual. Being blind had brought that gift to me to live on a day-to-day basis.

Not just on an occasional Sunday visitation or as a focus of my High Holidays.

However, I had put myself out on a limb, telling my story of how being blind had made a shaman of me. And, I was not quite certain how I liked that bare nakedness in public.

Once said (or in this case posted) I could not take it back. Yet, somehow, by virtue of this proclamation, I had, once again let go of one of the thousand masks I wear that are me which had been my intent, originally, in writing this blog.

So here it was now!

I think the many months I have spent writing this blog, coupled with a multitude of behind-the-scenes conversations that ensued, regarding both the content and process of what I had put forth, has brought me to a point of public authenticity I had lost by being blind.

On the other hand, I think now perhaps, that I may never have possessed this level of sincerity before at all. 

Maybe I imagined that I had. But I was wrong.

It seems more likely, on second thought that I have made a choice, now, to come out of some protective hidey hole I had been, unawarely, maintaining. 

So it seems that by committing myself to doing this blog, I have created a situation in which to be far bolder that I had anticipated.

Now what?

Strange, isn’t it to be a strong proponent of storytelling as a path to peace, and then find oneself caught up short in the process of storytelling? Needing to come clean in unexpected ways?

One of my daughters, Lorrie -- (one of the half-dozen or so honorary kids I have) -- still loves for me to tell her stories though she is a grown adult woman – and – a mother herself. She even enjoys my reading her fairy tales from time to time. (I like it too when we do that.)

Up here in the mountains where I live (at the retreat center that is one major work in progress) my happiest times are storytelling times.

How is that the same or different than the storytelling I am doing on this blog?

Or, the storytelling we do in our primary Small “Zones of Peace” Conversations format?

I am not certain.

As I contemplate these questions, I am challenging myself, asking --

 "How can I find the means here to, authentically, tell the most important stories I have to offer as lessons in peace-building? And still maintain some privacy for myself?

How much privacy? How much to reveal?"

Particularly the stories that prompted my writing this blog in the first place? 

Stories  from which to offer teachable moments that I have been struggling for months to tell?

Up until now, these stories do not get told. I speak around them. But I never get to them.

Insight:  Maybe storytelling -- at least the way that I know to be profound for me -- the way I can best employ storytelling as a path to peace -- is not a performance that can be informative -- or entertaining -- in a blog kind of way.

Maybe real storytelling -- for me -- is an intimate experience and exchange of real people speaking to one another, face-to-face, in a space that has been made Safe.

Maybe that kind of storytelling cannot be replicated on the internet. 

Not now or ever! I'll just need to see.

The internet is still new to me, having been limited by my blindness, just as it was becoming an everyday thing for most others.

So, for now, I am concluding that  until we are able to meet, person-to-person in real time, I guess I am stuck with my struggling to tell my important tales -- with their meritorious peace-building lessons: my stories behind – “The Middle East Crisis In My Backyard;” “The Pastors, Two Ministries, One Church and My Experience of Awe;” the two maps to peace that are the bedrock of my life and my work. 

I do not see any easy alternatives, yet.

Maybe there are none. 

Nonetheless, limited as the internet is -- what I have discovered for myself, by telling my stories here is this:

1. After a bit more than six months writing this blog, I no longer feel like I am doing so much wearing of masks – here or elsewhere.

2. I am much less a hermit now than I was when I was blind (and before when I was intent (1988 – 1998) on my almost ceaseless book deadlines) – and – I really do like the way this feels. 

3. And, I did come clean about my being a former anti-Semitic, recovering Jewish American Princess and I love the peace within myself and in the world I am experiencing around me because of it.. That was HUGE for me; and

4. I have learned a great deal from reminding myself of the words of Dore, the fish in “Finding Nemo,” – “Just keep swimming.”

So I hope my revelations here do not put me in too much hot water.

Storytelling as one of my paths to peace is working for me.

While, perhaps. you are out there are playing it safe?

With the thousand masks you wear? All of which are you.

Could this be true for you?

Limited as this internet is for real people, building real peace, in real time, I will do my best to keep my commitment to "swimming," writing, hiking or whatever.

So far, so good. Storytelling is a path to peace for me.

From Anastasia, the Storyteller
In the mountains on a snowy January day