Working with stories part 2

A second way that I use stories is perhaps the most traditional way: to hear a deeper truth embodied in the story.

Stories as expressions of our truths

I facilitate a great many meeting where the subject matter is dry: public policy, goals and objectives, interests and agreements. In many ways, a lot of the work I am called on to do involves holding space for richer communication between people. And for me that means truer communication. So, for example, when I am listening to a community member trying to describe a policy issue to a government person, I�ll ask her to tell a story about what she means. Suddenly authenticity gets introduced into the equation. Telling a story from a personal perspective puts a face on a policy issue, reminds us what is important and helps to sew together a relationship between people who may have very different positions, responsibilities and power. Especially in working with community and government people, using stories is a tacit acknowledgment of the inherent power that each person brings to the process. We are all endowed with are stories and as Thomas King says, stories are all that we are.

Years ago I heard Utah Philips tell a story. He told of a time when he was a young man and he had an opportunity to visit a cowboy who knew dozens of songs from the great cattle drives of the 19th century. The cowboy lived in a small house in New Mexico and was dying. It was a tremendous opportunity to get these songs from the mouth of a man who had been on these cattle drives so Phillips arranged a visit.

When he arrived at the cowboy�s house he was met at the door by a nurse who said that although the cowboy was in poor health, he was looking forward to the visit. It would take a few minutes to get him ready so Phillips was invited to make himself at home in the living room.

Phillips began perusing the bookshelves and was immediately struck by the huge number of books from the ultra conservative John Birch Society. His initial reaction was to ask himself what he was doing there, about to have a conversation with a man who was bound to feed him political babble that Phillips would find deeply offensive.

And then he caught himself and he realized that he wasn�t there to talk politics with the cowboy, he was there to get songs. He realized that talking politics with the cowboy would only result in a conversation full of canned ideas recited from a book. Phillips was after the truth, and in concluding the story he said, �if you ask people about what they truly know. They will always tell you the truth.� And what they truly know is not contained in the books they read, it is contained in the stories about who they are and what they do and what is close to their heart.

That story has informed my approach to learning about what is important to people ever since. Whether I am working in a consultation process or helping a team find their way through a project, I�ll always go to the stories of the people in the room, and invite that level of truth to come forward.

It�s important to note that the stories don�t ever have to pass any objective test for truth either. These kinds of stories are not stories intended for the world of metrics. They can only be measured in terms of the impact they have in creating a shared cultural space. They give us glimpses of what people know, of what people value and therefore they contribute to the overall cohesion of a group, organization or a community.

Think of the stories you know, the myths that you share with others in a group. What do these myths tell you about the group? What is the �inside� information you are privy to, information which can only be gathered by an insider through knowing the stories of the group. What do those stories tell you about the Spirit of the place? Each group is unique because of the stories that create its shared space.

Stories to bring the world into being

And as much a stories can contribute to an abstract set of values, stories are used to make things concrete. Let me tell you what I mean�(see that?)

Years ago, I first twigged to the power of stories in a meeting with government and community people on Aboriginal family violence. The meeting was being held in Ottawa, which like most capital cities tends to exist on a plain far removed from everyday life. The conversation began in a very dry and technical manner, about the amount of money available for family violence prevention and the restrictions of the mandate to spend that money and so on. There was no connection to the real world until one community member started to tell a story about a recent case of family violence in her community. Suddenly the stories came poring forth, and it was all we could do as facilitators to record the underlying points that were being made. Much to the amazement of the government folks, by the end of a day of storytelling we had compiled a list of policy recommendations without a single person talking about mandates, program spending authorities or regulations. Each of these stories was a concrete reminder of what was true, and as facilitators we acted as translators, shifting the language from one ear to another, trying to represent and honour what was being said in a way that was understandable and useful to the government folks. And while all of this was going on, a heart connection was being made between everyone in the room an everyone became a little more real to each other through the listening and the telling.

In many indigenous cultures, the world is said to be created from a story. In this example, I am trying to show that it is possible to tap this teaching, and to share with one another the stories of our jouneys in order to create a community, a team or an organization based on the truth of lived experience. The role of the facilitator then becomes one of inviting forth stories, being a good listener and being a helpful translator where required. Most importantly the facilitator must hold space for the myths to do their work.

This particular example also points to another very important way I use stories in my facilitation practice: in the process of grief and healing. That is the subject of the next post.