There’s a lot of talk about how powerful it can be to tell our own stories. The value of sharing personal stories is now well established in therapeutic settings. Whether in circles of people recovering from abuse or drug addiction, sharing one’s personal story with people who can empathise with our struggles is clearly a very healing thing to do.
But there’s also value in recounting the most significant POSITIVE experiences of our lives. Most of us do this spontaneously. Something wonderful, or even miraculous, happens to us and we want to share it with our family and our friends.
But some experiences are so important that even telling them a few times like this doesn’t do them justice. I’ve written a whole series of articles about the most magical, weird and wonderful happenings in my life. It’s one way to remember them, and to savour them. My wife Sundara keeps folders that she fills up with fliers for performances that moved her, pictures of people that made a big impression on her, and of places whose beauty wove itself into her heart.
It was watching her at work on her latest folder that inspired The Beauty Book. The grandfather in the story keeps such a book himself and the storytelling happens between him and his granddaughter. She happens upon him, reading through this repository of meaningful moments, and wants to know what he’s doing.
What then unfolds is the magical heart of this story, as the grandfather goes through each page, telling his granddaughter the story of each photograph, sketch and poem. It’s the sharing of these memories that becomes so touching for them both. The young girl starts to live into the old man’s life; the old man gets to relive those memories in a totally new way. It’s a moment of pure transcendence.
But then her grandfather does something which surprises the girl – he takes out a sketch pad, makes a sketch of her, and puts it into the Beauty Book! For him it’s simply the latest memento of a beautiful moment. But for the girl it’s a puzzle. “Why would he make a picture of me, just reading his Beauty Book? What’s so beautiful about that?”
We all long for empathy; to be seen in our essence. It’s striking to me that so many scenes in romantic movies depict the first moment of attraction this way. Two people sit together and one of them shares something deeply significant. Often it’s a creative talent they have, but it could also be a story from their lives. As this precious piece is shared they are vulnerable, searching the eyes of their listener for signs of empathy. When the empathy comes, the magic begins! The other person sees them, in a way that they long to be seen.
Telling precious stories from our lives is thus a way to recover the lost pieces of our soul. This world, which can be so harsh, has nonetheless at times touched us to the core. In those moments, the fullness of who we really are can live and breathe here. That can be a rare experience for some of us, and definitely one worth savouring. As we piece together such moments, we’re like a character from an old folktale, stitching together a patchwork coat of meaning and remembrance.
The girl in the story only answers her question when, many years later, she shares her own Beauty Book with her daughter, and realises what a transcendent experience such storytelling can be.
Sundara and I made a studio recording of The Beauty Book, and you can find it here. I’m playing appalachian dulcimer, guitar and sansula, and Sundara plays the handpan.
Blessings,
Leo.
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