Stories
It fascinates me, to think about how the human consciousness is being shaped by the volume of, and type of, information we now have available to us.
I started thinking about it this morning, reading a blurb on a friend's Facebook page, about a woman struggling with the question of childcare and women's rights in today's workplace.
I don't have a child. And I've never had to worry about what this woman is worried about.
But I found myself empathizing with her, deeply caught up in her tale of woe. And, most importantly, my visceral reaction of sympathy for her was accompanied by an equally visceral, but vague, anger at those who would harm her.
It got me.thinking about how we learn. Humans have always learned through stories. Our ability to create metaphor, to empathize, helped shape us into the juggernauts we are today. Storytelling, and storylearning, is an incredibly powerful tool in our arsenal of growth.
So when I read these stories, when I empathize with complete and total strangers who I have very little in common with, I am learning through a story. When I allow vague anger to form, I start to create deep prejudices inside myself. I am learning the boundaries of friend and foe, constantly reshaping those basic ideas.
I think about how I did this as a child. There were the stories that were given to me, from which I learned fear and respect and love. And there were the stories I chose, from which I learned wonder, and curiosity, and anger. Two sharp examples that stand out in my memory are the bible, which I was given, and the big yellow book of Greek mythology, which I chose. First grade, and I was being forced to understand and accept the differences in the stories I was learning from. I'm sure it started earlier than that, those are just high points of memory.
Anyways. It's got me to thinking about the stories I choose these days. I want to be drawn to wonder, not fear. I don't think one has to choose ignorance to choose wonder over fear. I think that there are healthy dollops of realistic fear in any story that elicits wonder. But... it's not the primary motivator. When we choose to learn from stories of wonder and joy, the anger and fear they elicit are sharp and real. They are directed against that which threatens joy and peace.
When the stories we learn from are nothing but fear, the anger they elicit is vague and nebulous, waiting to take shape around whatever dark ideas and prejudices we are already prone to.
If I had a child, I'd want to expose them to nothing but wonder. I'd want them to learn fear and anger and respect and joy from the same stories that taught them curiosity and expansion and growth.
I want the same thing for myself.
This isn't a call to ignorance. It's not a call to bury my head in the sand and ignore the news. It's just a reminder to be picky. To make a determined effort to search out wonder, and reject fear.
I started thinking about it this morning, reading a blurb on a friend's Facebook page, about a woman struggling with the question of childcare and women's rights in today's workplace.
I don't have a child. And I've never had to worry about what this woman is worried about.
But I found myself empathizing with her, deeply caught up in her tale of woe. And, most importantly, my visceral reaction of sympathy for her was accompanied by an equally visceral, but vague, anger at those who would harm her.
It got me.thinking about how we learn. Humans have always learned through stories. Our ability to create metaphor, to empathize, helped shape us into the juggernauts we are today. Storytelling, and storylearning, is an incredibly powerful tool in our arsenal of growth.
So when I read these stories, when I empathize with complete and total strangers who I have very little in common with, I am learning through a story. When I allow vague anger to form, I start to create deep prejudices inside myself. I am learning the boundaries of friend and foe, constantly reshaping those basic ideas.
I think about how I did this as a child. There were the stories that were given to me, from which I learned fear and respect and love. And there were the stories I chose, from which I learned wonder, and curiosity, and anger. Two sharp examples that stand out in my memory are the bible, which I was given, and the big yellow book of Greek mythology, which I chose. First grade, and I was being forced to understand and accept the differences in the stories I was learning from. I'm sure it started earlier than that, those are just high points of memory.
Anyways. It's got me to thinking about the stories I choose these days. I want to be drawn to wonder, not fear. I don't think one has to choose ignorance to choose wonder over fear. I think that there are healthy dollops of realistic fear in any story that elicits wonder. But... it's not the primary motivator. When we choose to learn from stories of wonder and joy, the anger and fear they elicit are sharp and real. They are directed against that which threatens joy and peace.
When the stories we learn from are nothing but fear, the anger they elicit is vague and nebulous, waiting to take shape around whatever dark ideas and prejudices we are already prone to.
If I had a child, I'd want to expose them to nothing but wonder. I'd want them to learn fear and anger and respect and joy from the same stories that taught them curiosity and expansion and growth.
I want the same thing for myself.
This isn't a call to ignorance. It's not a call to bury my head in the sand and ignore the news. It's just a reminder to be picky. To make a determined effort to search out wonder, and reject fear.
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