Last
week I had a couple of nights at home husband-less. Traditionally
these evenings typically go something like this: we all eat “catch
and kill” (a term coined by some beautiful friends of ours that
means “mama aint cooking; you kids get your own!”); I open a
bottle of wine intending to drink only half of it but inevitably end up
polishing off the lot, then going looking for more; and I either
binge some soppy series on one of the streaming services available to
me, or watch something I know he wouldn’t be interested in which
causes me to sob my eyes out and look for the sequel. Then I go to
bed too late and regret it all in the morning. It mostly went down
that way, or it did the first night at least: I binged the entire
series of Mystery Road on iView
– great new Aussie drama, go watch it. The second night I stumbled
across a Netflix special called “Nanette” by Australian Comedian
Hannah Gadsby. I watched it. I thought about it. I looked up stuff
about it online. I “liked” Hannah’s page on Facebook. Then, as
I sank deep into that second half of that bottle of wine, I watched
it again.
You
may have guessed from the few posts I’ve managed thus far, that
this little experiment into vulnerability I have got going on is a
bit of a personal journey. It
is a journey which
I am trying to learn from and grow from. Well
Nanette left me altered forever, I have grown. It was raw. It was
real. It was vulnerability. And I have never ever seen anyone stand
up and speak with more authenticity. I laughed and I sobbed with her.
I wrote down a billion inspirational quotes to share with you (okay,
maybe it was only 15). But mostly, I tried to dissect what it was
that made this performance speak to me above all others who have
aired their vulnerability before.
I’m
not being naive here: Hannah is a professional comedian; it is what
she does. Her job is to (as she puts it) create a tension in the room
that captures an audience, and then deliver the punch line. I get
that. But what made the difference in this performance is this:
Hannah used a really powerful tool called story
telling.
I don’t need to share all those quotes I wrote down for
you. But I do want to talk about the story telling.
Long
before film, before electronics, before literacy was the norm, human
beings lived in a verbal culture. Cultural practice, languages, laws,
lessons and histories were passed from generation to generation
through art, dance, and
story
telling. Multi generational family and community groups would come
together to share stories. Face to face, with real human connection.
Connection and feeling connected has been proven over and over to be
at the core of human happiness: if you type “human connection” or
“the importance of connection” into a search engine there is
seemingly no end to the hits directing you to blogs, self help pages,
and research all about connection.
What
if the reason some of us are so lost, so removed from connection is
because we’ve lost the art of story telling? We have art galleries,
and museums. But how often do we come together for story telling?
Aside from the odd poetry reading at an off beat festival or in a
funky part of one of our larger cities, how many of us come together
for a face to face story telling session that doesn’t involve
kindergarten children? Instead, we now live in a world of keyboard
warriors and Cyber bullying where the target for our attack is
removed from our immediate presence and therefore easier prey.
Instead
of posting that witty comment “tearing that guy a new one”, stop
and listen to the story behind what is being said. You don’t have
to agree with him. But listen to him. Where is he coming from? What
has occurred in his story that makes him feel that it is okay
to behave the way he is? I will share a small story with you now –
I don’t share this story very often because it really does elicit
vulnerability on my part so it will be a surprise to some, and I am
not going to share all of it because it is not my story alone to
share. But I will share a little to illustrate something to you.
A
few years ago my family experienced a traumatic event in our home.
When the perpetrator was apprehended and tried before the court, his
story was shared. A childhood of abuse, neglect, and mistreatment.
Learning difficulties that were never addressed. A life in and out of
multiple temporary homes. As traumatic as the experience he inflicted
on us was, on hearing this story of a lost childhood my husband
looked up and said to me: “what an awful story, he never had a
chance...”. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t about saying that
what he did was okay. Hearing the story didn’t take away any of the
trauma inflicted on our family. But what it did was ignite our
empathy.
Through our empathy for this man, I feel that we somehow began to
move on from what he did to us. I really feel that until we do stop
and share and listen to the stories, we will be without empathy. And
without empathy, what
happens to
our humanity? Where is our healing?
I’m
not great at oral story telling. I stumble and forget words, become
unsure of what I am wanting to convey. This is of course in addition
to the struggle that is coming to grips with facing my vulnerability
and having a voice in the first place. But I think I should try. I
will start here, with written story telling… and maybe when that
becomes comfortable I can move on to oral stories. I like that
idea. I hope you will join me.
Nanette
is powerful for it’s content and Hannah’s comedy alone. It
resonated with me, and I implore you to watch it. Hannah’s raw
vulnerability is an example for all of us, her story is moving and gut
wrenching and her delivery thought provoking. I cannot help but
wonder… is story telling what we are all missing in this life? Real
stories. Our family or cultural stories. Your story. My story. And
the real human connection that these stories are the platform for…
Everybody
has a story. Tell your story. Your story should be heard.
Hannah Gadsby. Comedian, actress, and now story teller.
(Photograph from Hannah Gadsby Facebook Page)
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If you are following along I would love to hear from you. Put that vulnerability aside and let rip! ;-)