Story Water

Here is a take on the potential of stories from the 13th century poet and mystic, Rumi.

STORY WATER

A story is like water
that you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire
and your skin. It lets them meet,
and it cleans you!

Very few can sit down
in the middle of the fire itself
like a salamander or Abraham.
We need intermediaries.

A feeling of fullness comes,
but usually it takes some bread
to bring it.

Beauty surrounds us,
but usually we need to be walking
in a garden to know it.

The body itself is a screen
to shield and partially reveal
the light that’s blazing
inside your presence.

Water, stories, the body,
all the things we do, are mediums
that hide and show what’s hidden.

Study them,
and enjoy this being washed
with a secret we sometimes know,

and then not.

Barks, Coleman (ed).  (1995).   The Essential Rumi. San Francisco:   HarperCollins.

And then what happened?

What, if anything, do our favorite stories and novels  have in common?  Are there any traits shared by, Lord of the Rings, The DaVinci Code, The Wind in the Willows, Along Came A Spider, A Christmas Carol, Little Women, and Harry Potter?

Some have memorable characters, people we’d rather spend our time with than do most anything else.  We’d follow them anywhere;  Frodo and Gandalf, Ratty and Mole, Harry and Hermione.  Sometimes the plot carries us away, and we put the book down grudgingly at 2:30 am on a work night, only because the alternative is falling asleep in the chair.

In his introduction to the just-published collection of stories, called Stories, co-editor Neil Gaiman gives another answer to the question of what makes a story memorable.  When someone asked him what quote he’d inscribe, if he could, in a public library chidren’s area, he thought about it and said:

I’m not sure I’d put a quote up, if…I had a library wall to deface.  I think I’d just remind people of the power of stories, of why they exist in the first place.  I’d put up the four words that anyone telling a story wants to hear.  The ones that show that it’s working, and that pages will be turned:

“…and then what happened?”


And then what happened? I think of all my favorite stories share this characteristic.  How does an author or storyteller bring it about?  By discipline and magic, no doubt – words that give no hint on how to evoke this special quality.  But as I thought about Gaiman’s four words, I remembered a simple exercise from basic art classes that I think is very relevant.

Draw four dots on a sheet of paper in the shape of a rectangle.   Now draw three  on another sheet of paper.

*          *                                                 *          *

*          *                                                 *

Which is the more interesting figure, the more dynamic?   Why?