THE BRIDGE OF OUR STORIES
THE BRIDGE OF OUR STORIES
I came across this question at the beginning of a reflection by my current favorite author, Mark Nepo: “When was the last time you told your story? Question put to the sick by a Native American Medicine Man.” My first thought was to keep reading. My second? “I am not sick.” My third? “We are all sick!” So here is my attempt to answer.
You, I, and every other human who has walked the earth are more than ninety-nine percent the same. It is that remaining sliver that makes each of us unique. Our disappointments, hurts, successes, failures, and countless experiences distinguish us and become the backbone of a story that is always shifting.
Writing about myself for myself is one way I tell my story. Each time I revisit an event or season, tiny crumbs escape the cracks and crevices of my brain and take on a life of their own. In retelling, a clearer picture emerges. I discover a nuance I had not recognized before, and it shapes the current iteration of me. I may think that insight finishes the story—until it resurfaces, and I tell it again. Perhaps, with each telling, the tattoo of the story becomes more permanently inked on me. Perhaps my story becomes a bridge between where the listener is and where they need to go.
Think with me for a moment: Why do we return to great literature repeatedly?
Why watch a movie more than once? Why do friends and family retell familiar stories, if not to draw new meaning and energy from them? Why do older people repeat the same stories? Forgetfulness? Maybe. But what if those stories provide sustenance for their forward momentum—and steppingstones for ours? Repetition may open a portal to seeing and seeking. Seeds within our stories may lie dormant until retelling waters them with the sweat of life and the tears of trials, allowing them to bloom into truth and healing. Why else would so many of us spend years on the proverbial couch of a therapist, telling our story again and again?
Telling my story benefits me, but its effect on others should not be diminished. How can it reach them if I do not share it?
We are more alike than different, and our efforts to live well are marked by many of the same pitfalls and challenges. Our story may rescue someone from believing that where they are now is where they must remain. It may remind them that a hard place is not always a final destination.
This summer has been a cauldron of high highs and low lows. I have told my story many times. Yet through the lens of this question, I recognized the role retelling plays in both my healing and my celebrating. Each telling helps me gather the scattered pieces, honor what was beautiful, and make room for what comes next. I can only hope my story also helps someone else take another step forward.
CONSIDER THIS—An untold story is a bridge that carries only one traveler.
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