 Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin…
These words conjure up memories of childhood for me: my brothers and I sitting with our mother, listening to the story of the afternoon on the radio. A time to be embraced by both arms and imagination: quiet time that allowed and encouraged the opportunity to explore the magical world of stories.
As well as story time on the radio, we would go to bed with a short story, read to us from our favourite book. Often we listened to the same story over and over again, gleefully correcting Mother if she tried to skip a few lines to hurry us into sleep. I am sure those happy shared moments laid the foundation for my utter love – and probable obsession – with books.
A family tradition
As a parent, I continued the tradition of storytelling at bedtime, and repeated the attempts of skipping a few lines too, though not often successfully, thanks to the keen listening ear of eager minds.
With my children now in adult life, we are still brought together by memories of past storytelling, the classic stories that have stood the test of time remembered not only for their message, but also for the joy of the undivided attention that was given within part of a normal busy day. Some minutes can last a lifetime, can’t they?
When we sit with our children or grandchildren, reading fairy stories and fables, or simply recounting daily events, we are cultivating fundamental skills: to share, participate, listen and be listened to, learning the way language is used to communicate thoughts and express emotion. Different stories are told the world over to hand down the wisdom, ideas and customs of generations. Without integrity, a story can lose its original message, gather pace and become magnified out of all proportion, changing guidance into gossip.
Stories are often employed as a way of introducing the difficult process of passing from the world of childhood imagination into adult reality; for some, a bridge that is crossed and burned all too early in life. We encourage children to explore the fantasy realm; yet as adults, we are expected to distinguish immediately the fine line of separation. No wonder puberty is a difficult process in so many aspects. Recognition and understanding at this time are so important, to smooth the inevitable passage of time.
When stories make the leap from word-of-mouth to the written word, we have a tangible record of events and circumstances. As I said, I love books, and have become adept at cooking a full-course meal with a book in one hand and a saucepan in the other. Hardly ever was it a recipe book, more often an account of someone else’s life story or hints to help my own.
Books are brilliant: they open us up to worlds in which we may never live, helping us to understand and comprehend them! They give knowledge and bring empowerment; thrill us by suspense or confirmation; soothe us with slush, and please us with poetry. Within a book we can find and come to know ourselves, or temporarily lose ourselves, escape to re-group, before facing life again. Possibilities with books are boundless.
They may not give you the complete meaning of life itself – only experience will do that – but they can give so much support while you find your way. In the English language just twenty six letters of the alphabet bring the world to your hands, in the form of books. In this computer age – even with its amazing scope of information – there is, I believe, no substitute for the escape or acceptance into the worlds of fact or fiction that is held within the pages of a book.
Yet even with the expanded collection of books held at Cygnus, there is one you will never find: it is the one still to be written by your own hand. We all have a very special and unique story to tell, one that has walked with us since our birth: it is our own amazing life. The mere fact that you have survived all that you encountered along the way gives testament to it being a best seller.
Keeping a journal
I have kept journals over many years. At first they recorded daily events – such as the weather, children’s milestones and achievements, the sale or purchase of items – but gradually, as I delved beneath the layers of myself, my journals reflected this, and now they have become an important part of my personal development and daily practice.
Journals provide a safe space for exploring and documenting things that have made their mark upon us. Looking back may help bring patterns of hidden behaviour to light. They allow us the time so often needed to record and reflect, perhaps make a change, ‘before biography becomes biology’, as Caroline Myss would say. Self-reflection is one virtue that sets the human race apart. Peeling back layers of life in a private place encourages movement and flow: as the ink colours the page, so the rainbow of realisation bridges past and present, balancing fact and fiction. I encourage journal writing, in any form, at any age, to be a companion to your day. Life’s experience written with humanity is to be conscious of the fine line between human failings and the perfection not expected of us at this time. Dipping a toe into understanding another dimension is to be balanced by the acceptance that we are not there yet.
So, treat yourself to the most exquisite and lavish book you can ever imagine, to read or record your thoughts so far. It may give insights into the person you have lived with all your life, but never really knew… YOU.
With love, the energetic vibration of life, Mary
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