Thursday, March 22, 2012

Story


It’s all about the troll who lives under the bridge; the girl without a father; the boy with a third eye hidden in his forehead, a radiant liquid gem, the color of rubies.

It’s about the black bear by the bloodroot on Sunday: the moment of revelation in the rainy garden, right next to the sagging tomato cage and just behind the single aisle of shaggy sunflowers.

It’s about wanting something you can’t have, and about wanting nothing much at all.

It’s about the secret recipe for catfish chowder that came out of that August day on the hidden lake, two generations ago, when the big whiskered fish gave himself up and throngs of hungry people ate for days.

It is, in fact, about being fed, and about feeding the hungry.

It’s about the dispensation of clues without coercion, the unspoken urgency in how things might have been but never were.

It’s about getting off the country road and pulling in behind that old sedan with blue steam rising from its continent of hood, and then about what happens next: kindness, conversation, redemption, a shift : a chance to tell a different story, later, this time.

--©Laura Sorrells 2012
all rights reserved

This is a version of something I wrote in 2007 when I was in graduate school and planning a research project on the importance of narrative writing in the middle school curriculum. I am far from satisfied with it, but I think it contains a seed or two I may be able to use.

11 comments:

  1. There is more than a seed or two here! Some interesting visuals forming in my mind from reading them.

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  2. In twenty-first century western culture, I fear that we're losing the ability to receive the power of story. We're too into facts, events, documentation, and accuracy. What were our forebears trying to tell us through oral tradition? Chances are, we're listening to the wrong part.

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  3. I think you may be right, Deepr. and there is a difference between an event and a story, you know?

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  4. Reading this makes me want to dive deep into living, into the wonderful details. These words are full of longing, very well done.

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  5. Thank you very much. That makes me happy. I am so glad you enjoyed this.

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  6. i am in love. this breaks me apart into small pieces like a child's broken finger puzzle of sliding numbers or parts, and then it puts me neatly back together again. it speaks to me and for me. i am staggered. wonderful, laura.

    xo
    erin

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  7. So many rich images here. Reading it leaves me feeling all tumbled and jangled in the very best ways. Glad to have found your blog, Laura!

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  8. thank you both immensely. i am so glad i revisited this. i really needed your words tonight, both of you. i am glad this resonated for you. very much.

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  9. what an opulent post! and, to me, it's about love. love drives me to feed the hungry when I myself do without, to buy flowers instead of clothes, to feed stray animals and to give away my cherished books. your blog is gorgeous as is your spirit. xoxo

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  10. Marion, it is exactly about love. yes it is. thank you for your kind words.

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Georgia, United States
I live at the edge of the forest in a little town in the north Georgia mountains. I teach sixth grade Language Arts and am writing a memoir of sorts about family, spirituality, and narrative. I am also exploring a possible writing project having to do with contemporary lay contemplative experience and how it might be informed by the Desert Fathers and Mothers of early Christianity. I am a relatively recent convert to Roman Catholicism and an admirer of Pope Francis, Leonardo Boff, Joan Chittister, and Richard Rohr. I'm a Lay Associate of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers, Georgia. I am interested in indigenous cultures, narratives, and spirituality, especially how these can inform my spirituality as a lay contemplative. I write, read, take pictures, play around with creating ephemera from paper and cloth and other organic things. I cook, hike, watch wildlife, and collect random bits of interesting oddness, both tangible and abstract. I am a seer of smallness and a caretaker of ridiculous minutiae. If you want, e-mail me at riverrun67@gmail.com or lksorrells@hotmail.com.