On a Sunday near the end of August, I was invited to speak at the UU Church in Eureka Springs, AR. Perhaps you’ve heard of Eureka Springs, a beautiful, quaint little town built on a series of hills, (or perhaps a serious hill) in the northwest section of the Arkansas Ozarks. It’s a great place with a grand mix of hippie liberals and Christian conservatives, lots of regional art and crafts, and tons of good food and music. Writers go there for retreats and to workshops at a place called Dairy Hollow. It’s a cool place to escape the blazing heat of the Arkansas summer sun. I highly recommend it for a daycation, a staycation or a vacation, depending on “where you’re from,” as we say around here.
The exquisite little UU church on the hillside was rebuilt by its congregation and it is a lay Unitarian Universalist church. A “lay” church has no regular pastor, but invites speakers to come and inspire them on Sundays to be the fully open and welcoming people I find most of them to already be. I wondered what I could say to these good folks that might encourage them, enlighten their journey, help bring them joy in an economic recession that is affecting all of us, but plays hell with a town almost entirely dependent on tourism.
I decided the best thing I could do was tell them a story. Virgina Woolfe laughingly said that “if you tell them a story, they’ll buy you a car.” She thought that telling stories was the easiest thing in the world to do and simply couldn’t imagine that people would pay good money to hear her tell one. Well, I didn’t get a car, but I did get taken out to a wonderful lunch and was given a free overnight for me and my partner at a fantastic little B&B called Pond Mountain. Fair trade, I would say! We had a great time (more about this lovely getaway later).
So I told them a story. My story. In poems. Starting with childhood and working my way through middle school, the police force, finding my writing self and my true love in the Appalachians, all the way up to becoming a poet for peace and an activist for justice. I used events that occurred in my life; true events that I’ve written about over the past 15 years. These are not complicated or complex poems, but they reveal a sometimes complicated and complex life, as stories and poems do when we tell the truth. Because that’s the way life is. Complicated, sometimes complex.
They are also stories of compassion and learning and change and evolution. And the truth is we have to trust ourselves, if only a little, to be able to share our stories. We have to trust the universe that sharing our stories will touch someone else’s life because we are, all of us, connected. And somewhere out there in an audience of fifty listeners, or five thousand, or five, somebody needs to hear our story so they can put their own in perspective. Inevitably, at least one person comes up to me after a reading and says, “That happened to me.” “I know what you’re talking about.” “Thank you for telling that story; I wish I was that brave.”
You are that brave. We need to be that brave, for ourselves and for our traveling companions on this journey we call life. We need to tell our stories and listen to the stories of others. Stories, in the end, are one hand reaching out to another, grasping it, joining the circle of humanity as we learn love and acceptance.from each other. So say it loud and say it proud. Stand up and tell us your story by any creative method you choose. Don’t hide it beneath a ton of symbolism or cynicism. Simply tell, write, play, paint the truth of your experience and you will inspire others to rise up and tell their story, too.
Now, let me tell you two stories:
“A Little Lazarus” by Mendy Knott (4 min)
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“Revival” by Mendy Knott (5 min)
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