As a psychotherapist, I have had a long-held interest in stories and storytelling. Consider the psychology of myths, legends, folklore, and other forms of storytelling. People have long been fascinated by stories. Indeed, our reality is a narrative we tell ourselves every minute of every day. In our waking life, our thoughts form a story. When we are asleep, our dreams chronicle our subconscious. We are all storytellers, continually writing—chapter upon chapter—the tale of our lives.
My interests lie not only in the tales we tell but also in the concept of the story itself. How important are these stories? I think the answer is simple: They are the threads that weave together the fabric of our collective experience. Our spiritual lives aside, without a shared human experience, we have nothing—we may, in fact, be nothing. Stories give meaning to our lives and, by extension, define our existence. A philosopher once asked, "Why do we have something rather than nothing? I don't know the answer. But I do know that we have our stories, and that is something—perhaps the only thing we have that matters.
As a therapist, I have observed that we are all innately gifted writers of fiction. We lie to ourselves about everything—all the time. So, chances are, our stories are more fiction than fact—more lie than truth. Of course, many truths begin with a lie, out of which objective truths are forged in the furnace of reason and observation. Lies exposed are the path to the truth. Lies are useful, and useful lies must contain kernels of truth. Those kernels are little seeds that can be planted and nurtured.
Can we write enough stories, and for long enough, to knit together a collective tapestry of our true reality in a universal sense? Well, we haven't yet. But those who have come before us planted the seeds, having written stories, some of which altered the course of human history. But who should write these stories? Me and you, of course. All of us have a story to tell. We cannot rely solely on a few to do this for us. The truth is forged in the furnace of many flames, not just of the few of us who burn the brightest.
And so, here I am. Trying to do my part by creating a story—right out of thin air. Something out of nothing.
Like magic.
DB Nelson
