The power of storytelling

"Myth is a lane down which we walk in order to repossess our soul." ~Clyde Kilby, quoted by Jon Eldridge in Waking the Dead  (page 83)

When I was in highschool, one of my friends and I wrote half a novel.  It was a pretty epic undertaking, but we got surprisingly far.  (One day, I'd love to finish it with her.)  The work centered around four protagonists who were thrown together much by chance and eventually they'll have to face (much against their will) world-changing magic.  

Why fantasy? everyone would ask, and my friend fiercely explained to them that fantasy has been around much longer than literary fiction—look at the great epics of Homer, Gilgamesh, Beowulf, Greek dramas, etc.  Why would you write about normal life when normal life is what happens to you every day?  Myths allow us to explore more interesting possibilities.  That was her explanation.  

Like my friend, I used to think that I loved fantasy because it was an escape, a chance to live a different life, to pretend to be more exciting than I actually was.  In fantastical worlds, nerd girls with frizzy hair and braces and glasses and questionable social skills were replaced by smart, resourceful, beautiful girls who were feminine and gentle, so of course the handsome princes fell in love with them.

I loved Eowyn from Lord of the Rings, who defeats the king of the Nazgul—without her, that world-changing battle surely would have been lost.  And I loved Goldberry (also from the Lord of the Rings), who is silly, but feminine, and hangs out with her even sillier husband Tom Bombadil—her presence brings the hobbits peace and joy.  I had always secretly wished I was as brave as Eowyn and as bright as Goldberry.  But I knew I was just the girl with the wide grin and goofy mannerisms.  I could be the Fool, but never the wise, clever, pretty princess.

When I was really little, Pocahontas was my favorite Disney princess—until I figured out the real Pocahontas story was a bit different.  Devastated, I stopped playing Pocahontas games, put away my Pocahontas doll, stopped singing songs from the movie, tucked away my dreams of being a warrior princess, put them in a drawer like Mr. Darling does in Peter Pan.  I could be a warrior, sure, but not a princess.  This was proof that those sorts of stories don't happen in real life, I thought.  Fantasy was escape; it could never be real.

I think it was when I started LARPing that I realized that storytelling was at least a little more than an escape.  When my friends and I put on the skins of our invented characters, some of us were totally play-acting as people we would never want to be.  But try to invent a character you can play for an entire weekend, stopping only to sleep.  A little bit of your decision-making process, a few of your unspoken desires leak into the character.  My first character collected around herself a small family of brothers and sisters—and a satyr she was rather enamoured with.  She loved how silly they were, and how loyal.  Eventually, when she was captured by her unwelcome betrothed, her little family gathered together most of the town to go rescue her.  The satyr put on his best shining golden armour, and they all fought long and hard until she was finally free to return to her adoptive family.  That evening after game-off, I was so happy I was ready to burst.  I, who was used to usually being a leader, hadn't felt wanted—hadn't felt fought for—in a very long time.  In another event, this same character teamed up with the personification of Death to scare off all the bad guys and bring back to life all the members of the town; she was a hero because she chose to ally herself with Death, probably the most powerful and kind character in that world.  I think that was when I admitted that through fantasy, I could explore not only interesting possibilities, but something about what I wanted for myself.  I wanted to be desired and fought for, and I also wanted to be a hero—but never alone.

(Now, I must add the caveat that not every character I play reveals something true about my desires.  Since that first character, I've been a blue imp whose idea of fun is to chop off people's limbs, an unspeakably selfish fairy who uses soap as a weapon when she doesn't get her way, and skeletons and lava monsters whose only purpose is to be beaten to death.  For these characters, fantasy is fun and games, and that's why I love playing them so much!)

Maybe this is why so many people love Captain Picard of Star Trek:  Next Generation.  He is noble, he is brave, he is wise.  In some essential way, he has what it takes to be a real man in very trying circumstances.  And Doctor Who fans—I believe most of us watch that show to live vicariously through the Doctor and his companions.  Admit it:  you want to be daring and brilliant and charming like the Doctor, or you want to be clever and strong and pretty, and so captivating that someone like the Doctor will do anything to protect you—or some combination of the two.  And what about superhero movies and comics, and what about Beowulf?    What about the webcomic Weregeek, in which it is the very passion that makes the geeks awkward also gives them superpowers?  Even pirate stories and space/cowboy stories—wouldn't we like to be as brave and moral as Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island, or as fiercely loyal as Mal in Firefly, or secretly destined to bring peace to the galaxy, like Luke and Leia in Star Wars?  Even when these heroes have flaws, we love them all the more—they are like us, imperfect, and yet look what they have achieved!

I think this is the reason we love Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer—he is always searching for his inner hero—the hero he's read about in storybooks, and he's not afraid to go to great, ridiculous, mythical lengths to find himself.

Try to remember how you felt when you first read Harry Potter.  For those of us who were around Harry's age, the idea of getting a Hogwarts letter was tantalizing.  It would be lovely to have secret powers that the world didn't know about that we could use to do fantastical and wonderful things.  

And, going further back in time (probably), when you first read Narnia.  Wouldn't it be grand to be destined to rule a magical kingdom, appointed by Aslan the Good Lion to bring peace and prosperity to an entire land?

I definitely believe that fantastical stories tap into our deeper desires.

Fast forward now to my current life, if you will.  (Alas, I haven't been larping in several years, and it's not looking likely any time soon.)  Last year, I read Stasi and Jon Eldridge's book Captivating, and for my birthday this year a dear friend gave me Waking the Dead by Jon.  In these books, The Eldridges are not afraid to use fantasy to talk about God.  In fact, they use mythical stories to tap into our desires—and our true selves!  They want us to believe that God has created us to be these heroes and princesses we dream of being, and that deep inside ourselves, we already are!  I'm not sure I totally believe that yet, but I'd really like to!  Otherwise, what is a nerd girl doing but wasting away her life pretending things that could never be?  

Can myth really be a way to recapture our true selves, our souls?

If that is the case, then storytelling is a crucial part of what it is to be human.  Poets and novelists and playwrights and screenwriters are more than just entertainers.  They are teachers, they are griots, they are leading us into our deeper selves.  They are giving us the keys to recapture our souls.  Dreaming, then, isn't escapism—it is essential!

Allow me to end this post with a few verses from an anthropomorphic frog with a banjo:

"Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?  

I've heard them calling my name.  

Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailor?  

The voice might be one and the same.  

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.  

Is it something that I'm supposed to be?  

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection, 

the lovers, the dreamers, and me.  

Why are there so many songs about rainbows?  

That's part of what rainbows do.  

Rainbows are memories, sweet dream reminders—

what is it you'd like to do?  

All of us watching and wishing we'd find it; 

I know you're watching it too.  

Someday you'll find it, the rainbow connection, 

the lovers, the dreamers, and you!"