The Adventures of the Determined Storyteller: Navigating Grief and Loss Through Story

A lone figure stands at the edge of a dark abyss uncertain of what to do but knowing that the call is there and she must follow. She knows she is not alone, others have taken this journey before but she has never seen this place, never known this depth of darkness and she is afraid.

This is where I stood almost one year ago today, knowing that I must face the fears of a potential illness, already deep in grief after the loss of my dog, my mother and my father within months of each other. With no family to support me, except my wonderful significant other, now I faced a biopsy and needed to make a decision. I did what I had to do, I made the leap, and I wanted my friends to know where I was going.

That is how the Determined Storyteller, an alter-ego, an avatar I had created to make writing about the mundane chores of housecleaning interesting to my readers, became a hero for me and for them. I couldn't leap into the dark and fall into an unknown place, but she could. I couldn't face the monster in the cave that said its name was cancer, but she could. And as the D.S. traveled that path and took the hero's journey, she took me with her and all of my friends joined in the battle to save me and to inspire themselves for their own battles.

Please join me and the Determined Storyteller in a four hour intensive workshop of self-discovery on the hero's journey. March 18, 2011 at Sharing the Fire in Warwick, Rhode Island. To register for this experience: http://www.lanes.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&catid=19:site-content&id=128:preconference

A New Chapter in the Adventures of the Determined Storyteller

The Determined Storyteller fought the monster that called itself cancer and won. But with the caveat that this monster has many faces and may return. Thus she has once more been called to the edge of the chasm. Those dwelling in the regions of the cave have called her to vigilance once more and she must face the darkened path in order to find the light of knowledge.

Today, the Determined Storyteller sits, legs crossed, deep in meditation as she prepares for her journey to the chasm tomorrow. She will take angels and orbs and the Blessed Sword but this time she will not leap into the chasm, so the Towel from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy will not be required. Instead she will walk with strength and power into the darkness wearing the Robes of Transformation she won in her last journey. And Deb, Laura, Deirdre, and Rannveiger will guide her. She is in good company.

It will be days of travel to the Pool of Knowledge and then the D.S. will see what journey is laid before her.

The Determined Storyteller in the Battle Against the Cave Monster: Postscript

The Beginning:

The journey began as the DS gazed over the edge of a dark chasm trying to decide whether to ignore its call or take the leap. This was the day my doctor told me I needed a core biopsy for a lump found in my left breast during an annual physical. I had one previously and they are very uncomfortable, which in my opinion is an understatement. The last one was negative and the doctor who viewed this current mammogram said she felt I could wait and see if there were changes next time, but if it were her she would get the biopsy. A friend had just died of breast cancer and I wanted to let my friends know what was happening. The DS decided to leap.

The Traveling Companions:

As the DS plummeted from the cliff side, a friend stepped in to give her the Towel from Hitchhiker’s Guide tho the Galaxy explaining it could become whatever she needed. It became a parachute and acted as bandage and cape throughout the story. This is when I realized the story might be a powerful tool for keeping friends gently abreast (pardon the pun) of the situation without alarming them, to allow them to play a healing game with me, and to help me sort through my feelings and fears in the same way I use story to help others do so.

Throughout the DS’ journey, friends came forward with gifts and blessings including, a platinum breastplate, the Blessed Sword, a magic shield, a basket of glowing orbs, magic torches, an army of angels and themselves. Not only did the DS use these valuable tools, but I loaned them to others as they were needed. One friend whose mother was diagnosed with breast cancer was loaned the shield, another who faced a difficult situation was loaned the sword and so on.

The Call of the Hero:

The hero is reluctant, does not want to be a hero or take on a difficult task, only an adventurer thrives on this. But the DS knew what must be done. I missed my friend’s burial to get a biopsy on January 29th. I decided this was the best way to honor her life. I can only hope her family felt the same. Her name became the DS’ rallying battle cry "Rannvieger!"

This day was the same day as my sister’s birthday and also a horrible day for my family as my father was rushed to the hospital. The DS was drawn from her own calling to try and save her father. Bands of angels and her army went with her as the powers of darkness tried to distract her from the monster she must later face, perhaps to allow him to gain strength in her absence. She fought valiantly to save her father from their grasp, once to actually have believed him safe, but alas she failed. My father never recovered from his illness. He died March 13th, just three days after my surgery.

Nemesis:

My diagnosis came back positive for cancer on February 3 and the DS now heard the monster’s roar from inside a cave "I am Cancer and I will destroy you!" She now knew the monster’s name which could aid her in destroying him but it was name feared far and wide. I knew I had to talk about this journey because I felt cancer was so scary it had to be brought into the light of day to understand and defeat it.

Mentors:

I was fortunate to have a nationally renowned surgeon in the field of breast cancer, Dr. Stephen Edge. The DS entered the cave and met the Healer Edge who made her lay prone near a healing pool (my scans and tests) and gave her assistance in fighting the monster. He was my surgeon on March 10th and the surgery vanquished the monster beautifully. The delays caused by missed appointments to care for my dad did not allow the creature to grow beyond Stage 1 and .9cm.

But The Edge told the DS that she would have to face yet one more trial. She would need to decide whether to enter the Cavern of Fire (chemo) or just the Cavern of Lightening (radiation), which was a must. After meeting with Dr. Edge (surgeon), Dr. Levine (medical oncologist) and The Khan of Lightening (Dr. Kahn radiation oncologist) I discovered that there would be only a 2-3% benefit to having Chemotherapy. Of course I didn’t want to lose my hair but friends had already offered help with hats and the hospital has a resource center to help. I had already become determined to be the "Crazy Hat Lady" but the effects of chemo on the rest of my body was scary, to be honest.

The Finale:

After discussing the doctors’ recommendations and statistics with Thomas, we both agreed that a 2% benefit was not worth the trauma, especially with no cancer found in the surrounding tissue or lymph nodes. It would have been a completely different story had the DS not been given a choice, but she was. She entered the Cavern of Lightening on May 3 and was not heard from after that until she emerged. This is very significant because although the hero has traveling companions, there comes a time when she must face the journey alone.

Entering the Shadow Lands, prologue:

On September 10, 2009 our 18 year old dog Merlin died. He’d been sick with the effects of age for a couple years. Thomas had been carrying him up and down stairs and our living room had been a dog kennel with drop cloth and sheets on the floor. We knew it was only a matter of time but when we found him nearly unconscious one morning, it was unbearably sad. We rushed him to the SPCA and there surrendered him at their back door to be put to sleep. My heart was broken. He was such a large dog and a huge presence in our home and in our lives. He went everywhere with us. I am still crying as I write this but there really hasn’t been time to finish this mourning.

November. I was bringing the larger pond fish into the basement tank for winter when the oldest one, a koi named Big Fish decided to take the "Big Journey" on his own. This is a phrase given to me by a friend and I love it. It helped me feel better, for you see when I went outside to get another fish, Big Fish pushed through the screen covering the tank and landed on the basement floor. By the time I came in it was too late. I blamed myself for not placing the screen tighter. I had raised this 18" fish from a 2" fish and he was 15 years old. I know it probably seems odd to put so much importance on a fish in the light of all else that happened after that, but at that time it was significant. He was the largest and oldest and actually used to eat out of my hand. Another big presence in my life was gone and it was a death I could have avoided.

I now look back and realize that Big Fish’s passing was a harbinger of what was to come. I would be stripped of all the big presences in my past life, but my relationship with Thomas would become stronger than ever.

December 12, my mother died. Like Merlin, my mom had been ill for some time. She was on oxygen but a strong willed woman who wanted to keep living. She was frail however, and I had been saying goodbye to her for three years. I was ready for her passing. Of course, I mourned her death but it seemed easier to accept. I do miss her very much now and cry on and off, especially at those moments when a Mommy is needed. I have really come to understand the different roles Moms and Dads play in our lives, or at least in a woman’s life. I imagine it might be very different for a man.

I thought my sorrows would end here, and I do wish they had but when faced with the unexpected challenges of cancer and my dad’s illness, I did exactly what my parents and life experience raised me to do, stepped up to the plate as the Determined Storyteller.

Never in my wildest imagination did I expect to get cancer or lose my "big guy", my best birthday present, my dad. Still mourning for Merlin and Mom, I faced the greatest sorrow of my life, at least since losing my sister Pam at age five. When dad died I thought my world would end, and in many ways it did. It made me the oldest in the immediate family and placed me in the awkward position of being in charge of settling Dad’s affairs. I became the outcast and the outsider, and my heart felt like a stone.

After the long sleep, a Transformation:

About halfway through treatment, I was feeling pretty beaten down by everything that has happened to me. I lived in a kind of fog. It is hard to describe but it was like going through the motions hour by hour, day by day, looking for joy but just getting along. I was fortunate to have many wonderful friends who supported me and Thomas who was there all the time. They broke through the fog often, sending light and love to that shadow land, but still I felt like I was living a half life. Then one day it happened, Creator sent an angel by way of a fellow radiation patient named D (to protect her identity).

I wrote a blog about my angel and everyone has wondered what she said. Now I will tell you. It may seem trite and insignificant to you but at that moment of my need, it was huge. It was like a brilliant beacon in the darkness that burned away the fog, because I was feeling like a worthless being. I had given up important healing work because I myself needed healing. I had been called names and was starting to believe them because I was too weak to fight anymore. It is so hard to explain the pain I felt at that time.

One day D came around a corner and out of the blue, having never really spoken to me, looked into my face and said "There is a glow around you. You are such an amazing person.

She herself had been very ill for the first few days of her treatment which is why we really hadn’t spoken. When she said those words to me it was like a veil was lifted and I felt that light on my face. I acknowledged the power of this, of being kind to others never knowing when they may need it most. We spoke about this the following day and she told me how I made her feel wonderful too. We hugged and held hands.

So without knowing it, we had helped each other. Her illness lifted and I have never again felt that fog. The DS was shown her future in the Healing Pool. She would emerge in the White Robes of Transformation.

Journey’s End.

We, the DS and I, emerged from the Cavern of Lightening on June 23, 2010. There was an earthquake 250 miles north in Quebec just as I entered for the final treatment. I never felt the shaking but when I called home to tell Thomas I had finished he answered the phone.

"Wild Ride huh?"
"What?"
"We’re not talking about the same thing are we."
"No I was calling to say I just finished my last treatment."
"Congratulations! We just had an earthquake."

What a coincidence that is! And later I discovered that today, June 24, my ReBirthday is also the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist. I believe these are more than just accidents or coincidences, I believe they are Signo de Deo (signs from God) just as Big Fish leaving for his Big Journey was a sign.

Aftermath:

The hero finishes the journey and rebuilding takes place. Armies return to their homes where they find they too must rebuild. Weapons and armor are cleaned and laid to rest. Wounds are tended. Families reunited. But the Hero is changed. While others experience the joys of reunion, there is a melancholy surrounding the hero. She must come to understand this feeling of change, must learn to accept it and figure out its meaning in order to become whole again.

After the celebrations are over, after the feast is ended, the hero will retreat to a place where she can recognize herself again. The DS has spent so much time in the shadow lands, she is not certain what to do with the light.

She will continue to fight for right and against the dust bunnies of the world, but in what capacity? What will her life be now that the largest battle of a lifetime is finished?

The Determined Storyteller will have the courage to face other monsters but she wonders for the time being if she will just go through the motions of living or really take on life with passion once again.

I am sure the reader knows the answer already, but for now the DS, emerging from the cave in the White Robes of Transformation, has the glow of ecstasy in her eyes and has not yet come to an understanding of the path that waits before her. Yet, I have faith based on previous experience that she will find her way and follow it and that the path will take her to some place where the table has already been set. She will eat and she will grow, and she will be what all of her life has brought her to be, The Determined Storyteller.

Acknowledgments:

I wish to thank the friends who have traveled this journey with me and who have given their support, light, and prayers along the way. I hope you realize after reading this Postscript to the story, how much you really have meant and how much of it you wrote for me. And to Thomas, there is little I can say about your strength and love except that you are my shield, my armor, and my life’s blood. Thank you. And thank God.

Trying to Understand How People Become Disappointed

I have been working with At-Risk Youth since 1994 and the following is also a prt of that work and the book I am writing about mentoring at-risk youth through story.

In my work with at-risk youth, I have developed four principals for successful negotiation. They are Judgement, Expectation, Trust/Respect, and Presentation. These are the things we take to the table when trying to reason with others and also when trying to understand our relationships with them.

Expectation: What do we hope for ourselves, the other person, and the relationship?

I think it is safe to say that most of us hope not be hurt in any relationship and that the relationship will be long-lasting or at least successful. But what we hope for in the other person is really the tipping point. We do seek others with common interests, viewpoints and even the same ethics, but what do we do when we have not chosen the relationship, such as in a family? The other person may have been raised with similar beliefs and traditions, but it may be that over time they have developed their own ideas and customs, even gone far astray of what was traditionally taught in the family. In this case, do we throw the "baby out with the bath water?" How do we cope within these more complex relationships? What happens when we discover after many years of being in a relationship, the other person has changed for better or for worse? It’s a difficult question.

So where to begin. Well, it may be simpler than you realize. Begin with safety first. Are you safe, physically, mentally, emotionally, and even economically? If yes, then the next step is to begin with you. Begin with how you think, not how the other person acts. In other words change what you can control.

The first thing we need to do when we are learning to dance with another person is learn the dance steps for ourselves. Make sense? Getting along in a relationship is like dancing. You learn the steps and then sometimes you move together, sometimes you dance the same steps and sometimes you move apart, yet the movement make up a beautiful full and complete whole. Would you expect anything else from dancing? So why expect anything else of your relationship.

Allow your dance partner the space they need to be who they are. Don’t expect anything else of them and you won’t be disappointed. The exception is when dealing with someone who just doesn’t try to keep up or move with you. In this case it may be necessary to stand off and watch them dance from a distance until they move toward you, leave the dance floor, or just get another dance partner. But in most cases, if you approach a safe relationship without expectation, your partner will approach you in that way too.

This doesn’t mean you won’t find sadness in those times you drift apart. You will because you are a caring loving individual. But you will also find great joy in those times you come together, if you make up your mind that you will be joyful and focus on those positive moments. Attitude makes a big difference.

*Note. Expectation in this context does not mean the same as standards. We should set high standards for our success and that of our children. This acts as motivation and does not have anything to do with our acceptance of their failures. People fail. People learn. People can improve, but the definition of improvement is what we are talking about when we discuss expectation in this article. Does improvement mean that another person is only acceptable or successful to us if they do as we do, do things the way we would, think like us? We need to weigh the value of our lives with or without others in terms of what we are willing to have or sacrifice for that relationship.

More on Judgement, Trust/Respect and Presentation in the next posts.

Balance by Spencer Pope

My great grandfather, Spencer Pope, was an entrepreneur in New Berlin, New York and wrote poetry and prose for the New Berlin Gazette. I have the full collection of his writings and opened to find the following titled "Balance."

Balance by Spencer Pope, May 25, 1933

The Sun was made and sheds its heat and light upon the earth;
But its continued intense radiance will sere and blast
the very life its power gives, and so the clouds are hung underneath
to veil the earth and protection give to life.

We are given pleasures and joys in our short human lives,
Which like the Sun can sere and stunt us from ambition’s aims
And so the clouds of grief and pain are interposed with them
To bring us back to stern realities and more sane thoughts.

The raven’s song is dismal croak, the meadow lark’s a song of joy
Continued, either one can pall, yet both have place on earth.
There’s things that crawl and things that fly, but if all crawled or flew
Congestion would obtain and rational balance be gone.

God’s balance is not upon one single thing, but as a whole
It’s not ordained that one should know or do all things in life
But what is given us to do, we should strive to do well;
That there be some to learn and some to teach, is in God’s plan.

And those that now can teach are those who one time had to learn.

My Soul's Home

The Catskill area is where my family is rooted. My great great great great great grandparents settled there from my mother, father, and biological father's families. These roots are very deep and many family members still live there or are buried in the region. Every time I work there, it is like going home, comfortable, soothing, real. I get to return there to work June 12 and 14.
June 12: Oneonta Storytelling Festival featuring Laura Simms, Marni Gillard, Lorna Czarnota, and Susan Trump.
http://thedailystar.com/communitynews/x433575145/Area-storytellers-sought-for-festival/print

My recently deceased mom and dad met at the Oneonta Hotel. The story goes that Mom was giving out kisses and my dad bought one for a dollar. I don’t doubt that at all since Dad used to carry a pocket full of nickels as a young man and bet the girls a nickel he could kiss them without touching them. I suppose the dollar had to do with inflation, and I am sure my mother was worth much more than that.

The hotel later became a bank and I don’t know what it is now, perhaps vacant. The first time I told stories with the Oneonta storytellers, I recall visiting what had been the hotel and touching the exterior wall just to be able to say I had been there, in that place where my parents met.

Mom and Dad's first photo together.

After meeting the Oneonta tellers for the first time, I realized what wonderful people they were and was invited to return many many times to not only tell with them, but teach them about storytelling. They became my family. As with many things in my life this year, I think this is their farewell festival, not enough young tellers to carry on the tradition and the work of running and organizing a guild.

It maybe no real coincidence that I will return there now that my parents are gone, a sad and fitting end of their journey, and the happy ending for the Oneonta Storytelling Center too.

I will also present Wild and Wooly Tales on the morning of June 14 at Downsville Central School and my dear friend and storytelling partner Merri Lee will join me in the afternoon to present "Letters Home, Stories of the North and South" at Unadilla Elementary School in the afternoon.

The following is a little history of my roots which spread across the region from Oneonta (where my mom, myself and my deceased younger sister lived for a while when I was just a toddler) to Delhi, Walton, Morris, Unadilla, Laurens, and New Berlin.

Cobb/VerValin my mother’s side of the family: Mom was born in Unadilla and may even have attended the school where Merri and I will visit on the 14th. My grandmother’s family VerValin has a small cemetery on a back road in Unadilla. I found it mentioned in the archives at the Cooperstown Historical Library and visited it a few years ago. The small cemetery is located in a farmer’s field and is surrounded by an old wrought fence with the name VerValin on the gate. There were four stones there but trees had grown up through everything and it was sadly in need of work and may not survive. There is no telling what condition it is in now. The farmer kept a path mown to it but that was years ago.

MacDonald/Beers : my dad’s side of the family hails from Delhi, Walton, and Beerston. Yes, the town is named after them. Pretty cool huh? Personally, I know little about the Beers. I think my dad’s mother was a school teacher.

I know more about the MacDonalds. They arrived in the early 1800s at Fayetteville, North Carolina from Dunbarton Scotland. They moved north and settled in the Delhi, NY region where years later, my dad was born. I’ve never had the chance to work in his old school or in Walton either, but spent much of my childhood there at memorable family reunions, clambakes, and Christmas’. My deceased sister is buried in the Walton cemetery with my dad’s mother and father. Her name was Pamela Irene and she died at age 3 when I was just 5 years old.

There is one Beers uncle, Neil, who fought in the American Civil War.

Southern/Pope my biological father’s family: The Southern’s settled in the areas of Morris and Laurens and became farmers. I forget which great it was but it was at least four generations ago that one of my grandfathers brought the first long haired, bred sheep from Sheffield England to Otsego County. I know we have Sheffield roots but have not been able to trace them to England.
The Popes settled in the area around New Berlin, NY. I know nothing beyond my great grandparents history but that is very rich.

My great grandfather Spencer Pope was an entrepreneur in New Berlin. At one time he opened the first bicycle shop and later ran a grocery. His wife, my great grandmother, Hattie was a milliner and had a shop on the main street. I don’t know where Hattie is buried but Spencer is in the New Berlin cemetery. His grave is shown on a cemetery map but there is no headstone. I may remedy that as Spencer was a writer. He wrote poems and stories for the New Berlin Gazette for years. I have a bound notebook of all his writings that a local farmer had gathered and published. Their only daughter, my middle namesake, Theral became a dressmaker.

One great grandfathers and an uncle who fought in the American Civil War are buried in the Morris Cemetery, at least that is the war I recall. I know there was a grandfather who fought in that war as I have a photocopy of his letter to his wife from the hospital where he recuperated from a wound. Theral is buried in that cemetery also. I never found her grave.

So you see, my history is full of people who influenced me, though I never knew most of them. There were poets and storytellers, teachers and entrepreneurs, shepherds, a milliner and a dressmaker, all things I have done or aspired to do in my life. And the Catskills really are home to my soul.

I used to work there often but not in the past two years. I am so excited to be going home once more. I will have Sunday between programs to try to find the old cemetery in Unadilla again and to visit my sister’s grave and tell her of her parents’ recent passing, although I am sure she is with them now.

There are cousins scattered everywhere in the area and I have not maintained contact with them. One aunt and uncle still live in Walton. Many others have moved to warmer climates, including four half-sisters and two half-brothers. Many others have passed.

But their memories and stories linger. They cling to walls of old hotels, stone walls separating farmer’s fields, and brooks that wind from one side of the road to the other. They live on in the smell of oiled dirt roads, and old wooden general stores, and in this storytellers dreams and words. For you see the very first story I recall telling, was told when I was 10 years old, sitting on the porch with my cousins at their home in Andes, NY, while looking at the foothills of the Catskill Mountains.

As long as I draw breath, I will keep them alive.

Taking Them Home.

Today Thomas took Mom and Dad’s clothing and shoes to St. John’s Church Home for the elderly. I knew my parents would be happy that we donated these clothes but I never expected the reaction we would get. Thomas says he wishes I could have been there but he’s been hanging around with me long enough to have learned to tell a good story. His description brought tears and smiles to my face all at the same time. That in itself was quite a strange experience.

"I drove up to the home and two or three workers, men in uniforms, came out to help me. We were taking the boxes out of the van when a little old lady, about the same size as your mother, was standing on the balcony overhead. She saw the clothes and pointed at the shoes.

"Golden slippers! I could use those golden slippers!"

We took the twenty or so boxes into the building. There are about 200 apartments in that building, I think. Then a man came up to the table. He had one or two teeth left. He saw the box of your dad’s shoes and your dad’s slippers were right on top.

"Slippers! Slippers!" he smiled his toothless smile.

One of the managers had to come out and tell the workers not to just let them all take things.

"Spread it around. We have to make sure everybody gets something."

Imagine, crowd control over your parents’ clothes."

Thank you my sweet Thomas. My mom and Dad really smiled at that and you are one of my heroes.

The Compost Bin

The following story is an off-the-cuff creation after posting this picture and being challenged by a dear friend to tell what was taking place. Being a storyteller, what was I to do?

No *%$# there I was, minding my own business pretending to look pretty even without make up when I heard a strange noise. It was like a low growl or more of a moan and it was coming from the compost bin?

Egads, what could that be?

Hiding my unmade face from the neighbors, I rose from the swing by the pond, picked up the pitchfork that sat poised and ready beside my broomstick (oops, you're not supposed to know about that side of me) and slowly cautiously, after tripping over a tree root here and there, made my way to see what it could be.

Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Someone, something inside the bin began scratching at the plastic. More groans or growls and the lid started to rise.

Cobwebs spilled from the compost and a hideous nauseating odor assailed my nostrils. I turned my head just a moment, reeling from the stench that made me gag.

All at once the lid exploded from atop the compost bin, missing my head by a fragment of an inch and landing some fifteen feet away. One large black hair-covered foot twisted like a writhing snake and placed itself on the edge of the open bin, and then another and another and another (you can stop me anytime) and another and another and another and, well you get the idea.

Strong black legs pushed against the bin raising a huge body above them and many many eyes stared at me, red and horrible. I do not like big black spiders with hairy legs, but what was I to do, Thomas was not home and I knew there was no time to run, screaming would only cause the creature to attack. I stood motionless, trying not to blink. I would stare it down.

The pitchfork shook in my hand and the stench still oozed from the bin, and then I saw movement just beyond that great body, a lot of movement and as many tinier spiders scurried out from beneath their mother. She had young and I was lunch...stay tuned.

Healing Tales and Healing Touch

The following is a repost of an article from my Facebook page, so it it looks familiar to some, that is why.

I am thinking about stories where spells are cast that take away the will power of an individual. Often these spells steal a person’s ability to think independently or put them into a sleep so deep that only a healing touch from a specific source can wake them. Sometimes the "victim" is transformed into something those closest to them do not recognize. But there is always a key to unlock that spell, a way it can be broken, promise and hope for change.

While the "savior" usually comes in the guise of a hero or a lover, these too are only symbolic. The hero may be the other side of self, the victim’s inner hero. The lover may not necessarily be the opposite sex or romantic in any way, but representative of love in general. That love may be from someone outside self or it may be ones love for self. We must all learn to love ourselves, this is not selfish. It allows us to love others. And the saving grace is unconditional love. This hero or lover looks beyond the impossible, beyond the hideous, beyond fear and it does not matter if their healing works, they only know that they care enough to try, often overcoming huge obstacles to do so, and placing themselves in great danger, not only physical but also emotional. They risk connections, take a chance on love, trust.

The healing touch is often a kiss upon the lips, but this may not have been the story’s original form. This may be romantic but there are other forms of touch that might work equally well in the story. On the other hand, this kiss upon the lips may not be romantic at all, but rather like the "breath of God." That most powerful breath that can heal anything including sleep resembling death or death itself. It is the breath of life, very much like mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Science tells us that touch releases chemicals into the system. These chemicals tell us if the touch is pleasure or pain. Perhaps this is why a gentle touch upon the shoulder, a soft kiss, an embrace are such powerful images in story. And it may be that they not only heal the characters and break the spells but they release for the listener those same chemicals that speak volumes of truth about the value of love and caring, about compassion and courage.

So when people tell you that spells cannot be cast, that magic isn’t real or that miracles are just hallucinations, tell them a story and that is like telling the truth. Awaken a sleeping someone, transform an ogre, release a troubled mind, not only with a tale but with the touch of love.

Aftermath, Part IV: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster

The Determined Storyteller met with the Shah of Lightening and Levine of the Fire at Edge the Healer’s request. It has been a long hard journey for our literary heroine, from January 29 when she first leap from the ledge and discovered the dark cave to a time of defending her father against the forces of evil and darkness, to his death and her own great battle against the monster in the cave that called itself "Cancer."

With scores of friends who joined her army and supplied her with armor and weapons, love and support, and armies of angels, she succeeded in slaying the creature and was healed. The Edge warned her that the monster may have sent his seed further into the cave and that she may yet need to endure fire and lightening to rid herself of them for good.

Now the DS stands with head bowed, a decision of great weight upon her brow and a road as long before her as that which she has already traveled, just less rough and less dark because of all who have carried her along the way. What choices will she make?

To endure fire, as it turns out, meant for the DS to take that fire into her own body and to lose much in doing so with little to gain as a result. Her hair, her blood cells, her memory, all for a 2-3% benefit. To endure the lightening, the DS would lay prone in a chamber for 40 minutes per day for five days per week for six weeks and perhaps she would lose part of her heart to this lightening. The Shah of Lightening assured her that he would protect her heart with all his ability, and the Shah is a mighty warrior himself.

Thus knowing all of this, the Determined Storyteller chose to forgo the fire and will enter the Chamber of Lightening but first the Shah will make a map to show her the way.

When next we meet the Determined Storyteller, she will enter the Chamber of Lightening and grow nearer the end of this long long journey.

How does Audience Affect Story?

Every now and then I receive email from students doing papers on storytelling. I recently received one with the following question. My reply is below.

I was wondering if I could ask you, as an award-winning storyteller, how different audiences affect and change your delivery of a story? Does it depend on who your audience is?

Live audience is everything. Try to imagine a written story without a live audience as existing on a single plane. Then take that same story and speak it out loud, still without an audience. It now has a second dimension but it lacks the luster that only a live audience can contribute. In going from print to spoken, the story has taken on some of the characteristics of the storyteller. There is no way to tell without those characteristics and they do change with each telling, just as the teller is not approaching the story from the same place each time. Both teller and story have a symbiotic relationship that morph with environmental, emotional, and experiential changes.

Now add the live audience to that same scenario. You have now added that third dimension that brings the story into full shape and off the page, just as seeing a movie in 3D. The story will take on the characteristics of the teller and both teller and story now use the audience. Likewise, the audience cannot help but be transformed by story and tellers so a new symbiotic relationship is formed. And, if I can add one more thing to think about, this power to transform story, teller, and listener is both creative and dangerous. It is why some people, Hitler for example, have been able to manipulate millions with a spoken word.

A Elegy for Dad

I have a special journal I call my Book of Everyday Wonders. It is reserved for special shining moments in everyday life.

I never expected to write in it about death, and in fact I didn’t. I wrote about my mom when she passed December 12, 2009 and now about my dad who passed March 13, 2010, but these entries are about wonderful lives, not deaths. They belong in this book because Mom and Dad were beautiful shining moments in my life.

It is impossible to sum up 76 years in a short time, so I didn’t try. Instead I decided to share some highlights.

Mom and Dad were the constants in our lives. Friends, boyfriends, husbands, homes, and jobs changed, but Mom and Dad were always there, to love, to support, to advise, to cheer and to dry a tear.

From Dad, we got solid discipline. We learned to watch our money and to question those things that seemed like givens to everybody else, to be sure it was just right for us. Just because everybody else did it, didn’t mean it was the best decision or in our best interest. He taught us to stand on our own two feet.

From Dad, we learned about hard honest work and to be sure we knew what we were doing. He told us not to sign anything unless we read it. He once told me "Never make a bet you know you can’t win or a promise you can’t keep." You see, Mom and Dad both enjoyed games of chance but Dad also knew that he could only win at those things when he could use his skills. Who would place a bet if he knew he would lose? Not me. Dad taught me better.

Dad taught us the difference between a want and a need. Many times I said "Dad, I need it." If I said I needed a bike, Dad replied "You don’t need a bike, you need transportation. You want a bike." Knowing the difference between a want and a need helps us to be satisfied with what we have. Sometimes he drove us crazy, but it made us better people and more self-reliant.
And Dad was funny. Oh he could annoy us with his slow decision making but he delighted us with his humor, even when we were embarrassed by it.

He’d walk into a store and looking for the security camera, acting like a camera hound, all scrunched down and excited he’d say "Where’s the camera, where’s the camera." We begged him to stop but missed it when he didn’t do it.

Many times, I heard Dad ask a waitress if she had frog legs or chicken wings, then tell her to hop or fly and get him a drink of water. They always smiled at him, he was a charmer with his twinkling blue grey eyes. The server might ask "How was everything?" We all knew his reply before he spoke a word, "I don’t know. I didn’t have everything."

He even shared with me how when he was younger he’d bet the girls a nickle he could kiss them without touching them. Dad always carried a pocket full of quarters. I guess that was an exception to his betting rule.

He played lots of tricks and jokes on us. Every April Fools Day he woke us with the same joke "It’s snowing outside!" We were April Fools, we always fell for it. There was the bloody finger in the box and so many others.

Dad was my BFF, best friend forever, my dance partner, my favorite teacher. He taught me to ride my bike, pulled slivers from my fingers and dug cinders from my knees. He built a life for us that we are proud of, and he was proud of us.

In the end, it was us who worked for him, trying desperately to get him home. But he was in the hands of a higher power. God had a different home in mind for him and he’s there now, with Mom.

When I was four years old, I asked Mom for a new dad. She was divorced and dating. They married on my birthday. He was my best gift ever and I am grateful for the 52 years we had and for everything he gave me.

Dad, you are already missed and I will love you forever.

Scotland the Brave
Hark when the night is fallingHear!
Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.

Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Scotland the brave.

High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's eyes.

Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.
　
Clan Ranald: My Hope is Constant in Thee
Long Live MacDonald!

Aftermath, Part II: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster

The Determined Storyteller stood with the healer, Edge, gazing into the crystal pool of seeing. Edge waved his hand above the waters.

"DS, I see no other monsters in this cave. We slew the one and it had no seeds, but we can never be certain."
"What does this mean?" asked our inquisitive heroine.
"You must endure lightening strikes DS but you may choose whether you wish to walk through fire."
"Why healer? Why would I choose to walk through fire if I do not have to?"

Edge waved his hand once more over the water and the DS saw a monster much like the one she had slain with Edge’s help.

"Sometimes this creature will replicate itself and live elsewhere. But DS, the chance is very small that you will see it again."

The Determined Storyteller understood.

Should she endure fire and lightening to make sure that she is truly rid of this monster? Or should she choose the lightening alone?

As she contemplated this she heard a voice inside her head, "We are given choices and journeys for a reason. You must figure out why you have been given this task."

Will the Determined Storyteller endure both fire and lightening, or will she choose only the one? Stay tuned for the next episode in the Aftermath.

Aftermath, Part I: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster

Aftermath: Part I.

In a hero's journey, the hero will be reluctant, accepting and eventually complete a task. Sometimes this is the end of the story, but in many cases there will be a rebuilding or wrap-up of the story called an aftermath.

In the story of the Determined Storyteller and the Cave Monster, the DS defeated the monster but with cancer, removal of the tumor does not mean the end of the journey. Sometimes it requires chemotherapy and radiation treatments to be sure that no rogue cells traveled to other organs or parts of the body. These treatments will often not begin until a month after surgery and the DS will not know what her future holds until she visits the healers a week after surgery for her post operative visit. It will be years before the healers proclaim complete remission, there is always a chance the monster will return. Thus Part I of the Aftermath just to keep readers informed of her progress.

Having defeated the monster in the cave, our illustrious heroine, the Determined Storyteller wounded and bandaged in the Towel of the Galaxy, was carried from the cave by the Healer and Seer known as Edge. Her armies chanted healing songs for her.

The DS was placed in a mountain pool, beneath a waterfall of clear fresh, not overly cold but mildly warm water, that trickled across her aching shoulders and tired back. The dressings of her wounds were removed to reveal the able work of the healer, Edge. And soon she awakened from her magic sleep to find her father once more in the keeping of angels and healers who worked tirelessly to remove the stubborn ogre from his chest.

A mighty cheer went up from the army who waited news of her status. And it was proclaimed that the Determined Storyteller would remain Determined, though scarred from battle, she would go on to fight again wherever she was needed.

Was her battle with the monster at an end? Not quite. He might return someday but not for a long time. Yet, she might need endure fire to make sure that no others were left behind. All will be revealed in the days to come.

The DS will prevail!

Final Installment: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster: The Final Foray

Drawing deep from the magic fountain at her father’s castle, a pure “spring of strength that when sipped imparts refreshment and healing,” the Determined Storyteller returned to the cave to finally see the face of the monster. Healers advised her that he was not alone but was the only one with any power, and that power was small. The next morning, just at sunrise, the DS would meet her foe.

The Determined Storyteller entered the monster's cave, but her way was blocked by a great Seer and Healer known to all as Edge. She gazed into the Seer's pool. "The monster is as small as it can be but we cannot know as yet if it has spread its seeds throughout the cave. Yet know this DS, you shall not lose as much as had troubled your brow. Though your brow may be more visual to the world.”

The armies of the DS could not enter the small cave with her but remained fully armed and at the ready should she need them.

Edge escorted the DS into the cave and with swords drawn the battle began.
“Do not look into his face DS!” the Healer warned. “Use the mirrored shield to guide you. I will cut off his retreat.”

The Blessed Blade flashed as the DS tossed glowing orbs into the darkness. Singing Happy Birthday as she went (for some unknown reason this song holds great power), the DS glanced into the shield and saw a tiny being cowering in the corner. Looking much like a ragged old man the DS approached with caution. As she did the being leapt full force upon her, biting deep into the flesh beneath her arm. The DS tossed him free, Edge struck at him from behind but he leapt once more, biting straight through the platinum breastplate of our heroine. She cried in pain but found her courage “Rannvieger!!!!!,” she cried. And the Blessed Sword bit into the creature’s side. The Healer Edge thrust his blade too and together the monster was slain.

The Healer acted quickly to stay the bleeding in the DS’s chest by wrapping the magic towel of the galaxy around the wound. The DS swooned and was carried from the cave, laid before her army and they began to chant a healing song. Edge returned to the cave to seek any young that might have been planted in the cave walls only to return to tell the assembled that none were found and the DS’s battle against the monster was complete.

Only the days ahead will tell what healing remains for our stalwart heroine. Her armies know she has the courage and will prevail. The DS knows that without her armies and the grace of higher powers she would be nothing and she is grateful.

The war is not over but the battle is won.

Installment Six: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster: Battles on Many Fronts

Installment Six: Battle on Many Fronts

When last we saw the Determined Storyteller, she rested comfortably with her armies near the Healing Pool. Challenged by the monster in the cave that called itself “Cancer!” the DS received yet another call to go to her father’s aid. His castle was under attack. The Determined Storyteller could have remained at the cave to see the face of the monster revealed by the Healers or go to her father’s rescue. But was it really a choice? No. She knew what she had to do and her armies departed for the castle.

The forces of darkness were already deeply entrenched by the time the DS arrived. Defeating them would not be easy and the battle raged for weeks only to the find the DS father cast out of his lands and into an unknown dangerous wood where he alone could travel and he alone must defeat his foe.

Leaving angels and warriors to watch over the wild woods, our heroine returned once more to the cave where the monster shouted, “Storyteller! There are more here waiting for you, and one larger than me!”

The hideous creature’s plan was to undermine the courage of our heroine and it would seem to be doing its work for the DS was now uncertain if she had the strength and courage to fight more than one at a time. She sought the healers for their advice.

“Oh storyteller,” they replied. While there are others in the cave, the monster lies. The largest of them is harmless, toothless, and benign. You can easily pass them and defeat this tiny monster with such a large voice. His bite is puny.”

Relieved and renewed by their wisdom, the Determined Storyteller, sharpened her sword and waiting patiently until she would have all the facts that surrounded this foe. “Tis good to know your enemy. It is easier then to defeat him.”

And now came an old and trusted friend of the DS, Robert of Bajak who deployed prayer warriors and angels to encamp around her. The army grew, some still working to defend her father who was trapped in the wild wood with an ogre sitting on his chest. This friend, RB went to warrior women that he knew who have successfully defeated these creatures of darkness and shared the saga with them. Approving of the candor and offensive the DS had adopted, the warrior women proclaimed that she has the heart of a warrior and added their support. They sent RB on his way with much positive energy to be absorbed by the DS. The Determined Storyteller was grateful beyond words.

The battle at the castle of the Determined Storyteller's father was now at a watchful rest, but some of her warriors had been called away to tend their own battles. In honor of friends who are on the unknown journey for their own loved ones this day, the D.S. dispatched angels and warriors their way. Oh faithful friends, you are not alone. And we will overcome.

Installment Five: An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster: The Healing Pool

Installment Five: The Healing Pool

When last we saw our courageous DS, she heard for the first time, the monster in the cave. He threatened her but the Determined Storyteller would not be daunted. Our heroine also faced a new foe, one that attacked her father and she was forced to choose which way to turn.

Even as the DS turned to aid her father, she heard a sound from inside a cave niche that beckoned to her and she knew she must follow.

Inside the niche the DS saw a healing pool but as she neared the sound that called grew louder and became a drone. There was a bed of rock on which the DS was compelled to lie prone, face down and still. A light appeared and moved over her, a magical test from an unseen source. And then Van Morrison was singing in her ears...”It's a marvelous night for a moondance,” and “On the bright side of the road.” She wanted to dance but couldn't, but in her mind she boogied down and she smiled.

Leaving the cave once more, our smiling heroine met legends of angels and warriors who gathered around her and they marched to defend her father’s castle.

The minions of darkness were no match for the light and the DS’s father was released from their grasp. He was floated safely on the wings of light to another plane to rest and recuperate.

Our heroine, she who shags out dust bunnies and dirty dishes, turned once more to the cave of the monster who had called her to battle. She knew she would be tested many times in the days to come and when all is ready she will face that invader of darkness. Its face would soon be revealed.

Entering the niche once more, the DS closed her eyes beside a still pool and felt her breath and found her inner self. “I surrender not to the enemy but to that which must be done. Come oh courage for we will not fail. We will be victorious.”

Though she could not yet see its face, the Determined Storyteller heard the monster call again, "There are more of us, you know. And one bigger than I. We will destroy you!"

The calm of the healing pool surrounded the DS, she asked the powers that be to gaze again into their magic pool to see if these creatures did exist or if the monster was trying to trick her into submission. “I will not be defeated or daunted or stopped,” she said. Yet “truth” was not yet within her grasp.

She prepared for sleep, knowing that in the morning she may be called to visit the wise healer who would reveal the monster's secrets. Though her mind swam with thoughts, exhaustion of the journey carried her to dreams. Angels guarded her and the mighty army of warriors as they found peaceful slumber.

Let go your cares for night has come and we are meant to rest.

An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster: The Battle for Father

Installment Four: The Battle for Father

Having fought the Gatekeeper and being given passage to the cave interiors, The Determined Storyteller’s wounds were cared for by her many friends, and army that gathered. Still uncertain of her destiny, the DS arms herself to face an unknown enemy. She is given a platinum breastplate, the Blessed Blade, a magic torch, a basket of glowing orbs, and a bodyguard.
More determined than ever to find the courage needed to take this journey our trusty heroine was knocked from her feet by an unseen force and called to help her father whose castle was suddenly and unpredictably under attack. How can our Determined Storyteller fight on two fronts? How can anyone be expected to succeed in such a quest?
Turning to leave the cave to go to her father’s aid the DS finds a great and mighty army has gathered with bows and spears and a company of angels. Perhaps there is hope. But from inside the cave, even as she gives the command to march, a sinister voice is heard.

“Foolish Mortal! I am CANCER and I have you now!"
Turning back toward the cave for one brief moment before going to her father the DS replied in an even and forthright tone, "Oh yeh sucker, well come and taste my blade."
Will the DS and her army stay to fight the monster or help her father first? Will the monster in the cave show itself in the light or cower in the dark? Will the DS’s father be rescued?

Stayed tuned for part Five: The Healing Pool

An Epic Hero's Journey: The Determined Storyteller in the Battle against the Cave Monster: the GateKeeper

Installment Three: The Gatekeeper

In the Determined Storyteller’s journey now begun in our last episode, she entered a mysterious dark cave without fear for the light of many friends who gathered around her lighted her way.
Entering the cave the DS was startled to find the Gatekeeper, the one who stands between all heroes and the quest. Neither male nor female but a cat of large proportions the Gatekeeper’s voice echoed from the cave walls.
"All who enter here must first pass me. I am here to help you but it will not be easy."

In one swift move the Gatekeeper’s mighty claw lashed out wounding our stalwart heroine and withdrawing blood and flesh. The DS felt a fury like no other and a will to strike back, only to have a gentle paw placed upon her sword hand.
“Strike me not oh Hero, for you have passed the first test. Those of us who have been sent to help you in your quest now know the path that opens before you. Save your fury for the monster you must slay.”
The Determined Storyteller wished to ask more questions but sensed that answers would be revealed not at this time, but later. She sheathed her sword.

An Epic Hero's Journey: The beginning

I teach about the hero's journey as part of my healing story work. I use it in both my work and for personal support.
The hero is not necessarily an outwardly unique individual. He or she blends in with the crowd and at least when undertaking the first adventure, the hero is reluctant. He or she does not ask to be called to action and prefers to live a quiet peaceful existence with as little struggle as possible. Unlike an adventurer, the hero is not looking for personal gain and does not thrive on an adrenaline rush. Perhaps it is for this reason the hero will stand out once she accepts the call; her ego does not need to be served.

We might embark on a hero's journey many times in life, some will be small and some will be larger undertakings. These journeys may be easy or difficult. We may find the journey to be a straight path from start to finish or we may find we have many battles to fight before we even see the end of the journey. Most often, the road is twisting, a circle, or spiraled at the center before emerging at the other end.

My current hero's journey is more an epic that began in September 2009 with the passing of my eighteen-year-old dog after a long time of his struggling to walk. In early November, I brought my largest pond fish indoors for the winter and Big Fish, a koi I had raised for 15 years, jumped out of the tank to his doom. Funny as that may seem, it made me feel inept at caring for the life around me. Then, on December 12, 2009, my mother passed from a long-term illness. While I had said goodbye many times over, actually each time I left her, it was a tragedy because she was due to come home from rehab that same week. My dad was devastated.

Around January 20, during my annual physical, my doctor felt a lump in my breast. I had a core biopsy on January 29th and later that same day received a call that my dad, who had just driven to the Catskills to visit his brother and home again, was rushed to the hospital with breathing difficulties. He spent the next eight days in ICU. In that span of time, my biopsy returned as malignant. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. (You will note I did not say “I have” cancer. The wording of healing is very important. Cancer became a character in my story, the villain, not a part of myself.)

As I write this, Dad has gone from the ICU to his own room for three more days to rehab for one day during which he was rushed to the hospital twice and there to stay, finally moved back to ICU and not in good condition. I have had two biopsies, with ultra sounds and MRIs and still know nothing except the first biopsy result. It is February 16, 2010.

As with the hero, I was reluctant. “Why me?” I asked. “How can I manage all of this? It must be a bad dream.” And it has been the hardest thing I have ever done and I am not sure I can do it or for how long I can maintain composure and a stiff upper lip. I do not know if I have the courage to do what must be done and I do not know how I will fair. But one thing I do know, if my story honors the lives of those who have gone before me and helps just one person to face their journey, I must tell the story.

The Determined Storyteller is my archetypal heroine who allows me to step back from my own overwhelming emotions and see the facts more clearly. She was developed to help me clean house and straighten out my schedule and meet small crisis in my daily work. This character also helps me story this experience larger than life so I can write into it whatever I want the story to be and those who are reading may also be able to stand at a safe distance and take the journey with me.