Anlat Sana! Storytelling Workshop in Kadiköy!

I'm happy to announce my next storytelling training (in Turkish: Anlat Sana!)
English speakers don't worry, it will soon be followed by a new "Introduction to the art of storytelling" in English (in january).
This training is a lot of fun, I've been giving it for almost three years, and every time it's a new wonderful discovery...

What's so fun about it?

Well first of all, we get to admit that we all love to tell stories, and love to play with them! (That's something off our chest!)...it's not a problem if you can't remember any stories!

Then we get to change the characters and the settings of well-known tales, play with the order of events, move around, massage each other, breathe, laugh, laugh, laugh...
But that's not the best part, the best is that to tell our stories we need to go and dig deep into our past sensations.

 Little Red Ridding Hood's mother makes a cake? To tell about this cake in an evocative way I have to stop and remember:  "What did my mom's cake taste like?" "What did the kitchen smell like when she made her famous plum pie?"
Cinderella's Fairy God-mother gave her a make-over?  "When was the last time someone saved the day for me?" "How did I feel? Where in my body did I feel the glow?"

And after a week-end visiting our own world of sensations, smell, taste, touch, sights, sounds and kinestetic sensations, we feel great!
Because sensations are like antennas connecting us to the world, making us feel present, alive and whole!
Details about the workshop? See:
Anlatsana

We always tell OUR own story.

In storytelling sessions, when working on a story, we discuss what the story means to us, what message it carries, according to us.  "According to us" is the keyword here.

It strikes me again and again that stories rarely carry the same message to all their listeners. 
Even when we find a story which seems to carry an obvious message, lead to a clear conclusion, even when we share this story with people who share our language, culture, views, attitudes, still then, the story often carries a different message to each of us. 

The reason you may ask?

We can only hear our own story.

When we look out to the world what we see is what we carry in our heart, when we listen to a story, what we hear is the story we carry in ourselves.

For the past week, there has been one story I have been telling over and over again, I got it in the article "Black Out teaches New Yorkers the Ancient Art of Talking to Each Other"

(see link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/11/02/new-york-blackout_n_2067462.html).

It's a story about what happens when a huge city has no electricity. It's a story about people bereft of Ipads and cell phones, heating, and light who find that they are having some of the most incredible times in years and more sincere exchanges with friends, family members and complete strangers than they did when technology supposedly made communication easier.

So I stopped and I asked myself, what is it about this story that touched me so deeply that it somehow works its way into all my conversations?  Why did this story hop on the train of my thoughts?
Well I am sure that if I asked this question to all the people I shared this story with, we would have a long list of answers.  But when I asked myself this question, the answer was simple:

It's a story about the value of "difficult" over "easy".

And once I had this answer, it made sense.  Of course the value of  a "difficult" processes over taking the easy way is what I am all about.  I was born on weaver's commune.  In post industrial times, if someone is going to wash, die, spin, and weave wool, instead of going out to buy themselves a coat, they give utmost value to "difficult" processes over taking the easy way.  And there are many ways I have carried on this family tradition in my life.

It's almost as if I welcomed the hiccups of life, for the opportunity they give me to embrace more "difficult" processes. 

An example, these days I don't have hot water in my house, and so I carry my shower stuff in my bag and take showers everywhere, at friends', at the gym...  This morning as I was enjoying a warm shower in the middle of a work day, I felt just blessed to be taking this impromptu break.  And I thought how much I would miss this, once I have hot water in my house (hm, should I say: if this ever happens?).  For me the difficulties of life that make us use the long way, often take us on wonderful new paths and bring magic in our lives.

I choose:

the long way home,

the shower in the middle of the day,

the hand-woven coat,

the hand written letter,

the candle lit cafe in the middle of the storm.

I choose the long difficult process which produces the exceptional gem I will treasure, over the easy way which gives me a gem I can discard after use.

And when from the constant flow of the river of data and information, I fished one story, I just happened to fish this one, and I should not be surprised when I found that it was: my story.

Every story we tell is the story we need to listen to

Every storyteller will tell you that it often takes reading 100 stories to find one that we want to tell, one we want to call our own, work on and add to our repertoire. 
And once the story has been added, no storyteller can really know how long it will remain in his or her active repertoire. 
There are stories we find with a 'BANG', work on with enthusiasm and end up only telling a few times, and then there are those other stories that somehow we find ourselves telling over and over again for years, to all kinds of public and we are not really sure why we them love so much (but we do!).

This is one of the questions I am most often asked during the storytelling trainings:

"How will I find my stories?"

And my answer is always the same:

"Let stories find you"

Telling stories is by no means an activity only practiced by storytellers.

We all tell stories, stories are the way we connect with each other, teach, learn, remember, feel, make decisions, communicate our values, and evaluate our lives (among other things!)

In a given day, we tell stories to our family, friends and colleagues, by the water fountain, over a cup of coffee or over dinner, and even if we spend a day at home away from all communication technology, chances are, we are telling OURSELVES stories.

So the same question arises:  How do you choose your daily stories ?  What do you choose to tell and why?

Most of us are not aware of the stories we tell, and we rarely take the time to really reflect on the reasons that lead us to choose one story over another. 

Our inbox is filled with bits of information waiting to be told as a story to a friend, so are the newspapers, our children's antics, the street scenery, our daily life, or the TV.  To a certain extent we are all exposed to very similar pieces of information.  So how come I choose to tell a story while my friend tells another?

The stories find you, they whisper "tell me" to your ear, they jump in your pocket, travel in your mind, enter your dreams, "tell me", "tell me"...and so we do.
Some storytellers will tell you that resisting telling a story which is demanding to be told can make you physically sick.
So tell the story, and then, listen to it.  What is the story you have chosen to tell.
In every story we tell lies a piece of our own puzzle, a piece of us, a solution, a medicine, a light.
What are the stories you have told today?
What story have you been telling over and over again this week, this month, this year?
What is that little story that somehow made its way into your repertoire and that you find yourself telling to all kinds of people without really knowing why you love it so much?
Stop and listen to that story.
What is it telling you?