After the 13 weeks of working with stories, playing games, singing, dancing and enjoying the wonderful work, we were asked to say in few words what we learned from the course.
Here is the result:
I have learned that storytelling is a deep process
but at the same time light and colourful
I have learned to speak from my heart and believe that when I do,
it can be a great gift to somebody
I have learned that storytelling is playful
and has true direction
I have learned to follow my personal pathway
I have learned how to get out of my own way
I have learned that a journey in storytelling
is a voyage in life
I have learned to serve the story
of becoming a human being
I have learned that storytelling is like a delicious box of chocolates,
with so many tasty and nourishing choices inside;
each centre being unique and different.
We have learned that storylights shine!
Our last performance was called Story lights.
And that is what stories do, They light!
And there are many more courses to join at The International School of Storytelling
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
13 weeks gone
After 13 weeks in a storytelling environment it is quite strange to be back home.
Enjoyable though.
I have not been writing as often as I thought I would. The experience at The International School of storytelling meant that there was a lot of homework, and we spent a lot of time swopping stories, preparing for storytelling evenings and for the final performance.
What did I get out of staying there for The Now of Storytelling?
Welll, a lot!
I learned many new stories.
I practiced performing in English.
I learned a lot about training and playing.
I had wonderful teachers.
I met a group of wonderful people whom I wish to stay in contact with.
I learned to set intentions and that sometimes the question is the answer! Thank you Roi.
I decided to tell the wondertale 'Jorinda and Joringel' for my final performance.
I struggled with it a lot, but it turned out alright.
I changed some things in the story, added a little of what I've learned from life, and that helped me.
In the beginning one of our teachers, Ashley Ramsden, said something like: You never know where or when during this course you'll hear a sentence, a word or a conversation, where you'll find the whole meaning of your stay here.
I had that experience two days before I left.
In telling my story I added something about the pain one can feel when missing somebody.
Next day I talked to a listener who told me, that exactly that had been a healing gift to her.
That kind of feedback is very important.
So I learned that when I truly speak from my heart the story can be a great gift.
Gifts are needed in the world, and I am looking forward to continue my work with storytelling as a healing art.
I am going back to the International School of Storytelling for more courses in spring 2011.
I have resigned from my job as a teacher, and I will from now on work full time on telling stories, help people in counselling through the gift of stories and continue to be available for whomever need help from my experience as a storyteller, counsellor and therapist.
With this I wish all readers a merry holiday season.
Comments are welcome.
Enjoyable though.
I have not been writing as often as I thought I would. The experience at The International School of storytelling meant that there was a lot of homework, and we spent a lot of time swopping stories, preparing for storytelling evenings and for the final performance.
What did I get out of staying there for The Now of Storytelling?
Welll, a lot!
I learned many new stories.
I practiced performing in English.
I learned a lot about training and playing.
I had wonderful teachers.
I met a group of wonderful people whom I wish to stay in contact with.
I learned to set intentions and that sometimes the question is the answer! Thank you Roi.
I decided to tell the wondertale 'Jorinda and Joringel' for my final performance.
I struggled with it a lot, but it turned out alright.
I changed some things in the story, added a little of what I've learned from life, and that helped me.
In the beginning one of our teachers, Ashley Ramsden, said something like: You never know where or when during this course you'll hear a sentence, a word or a conversation, where you'll find the whole meaning of your stay here.
I had that experience two days before I left.
In telling my story I added something about the pain one can feel when missing somebody.
Next day I talked to a listener who told me, that exactly that had been a healing gift to her.
That kind of feedback is very important.
So I learned that when I truly speak from my heart the story can be a great gift.
Gifts are needed in the world, and I am looking forward to continue my work with storytelling as a healing art.
I am going back to the International School of Storytelling for more courses in spring 2011.
I have resigned from my job as a teacher, and I will from now on work full time on telling stories, help people in counselling through the gift of stories and continue to be available for whomever need help from my experience as a storyteller, counsellor and therapist.
With this I wish all readers a merry holiday season.
Comments are welcome.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Biographical storytelling
It was indeed my intention to write here every week, but, alas, time goes so fast here, and I have truly overwhelmed by all the 'inside stories' that are being told.
We have told stories in nature, we have worked with the four temperaments and the last two weeks we have been workin on wondertales.
I told Jorinda and Joringel.
The teachers, Roi GAl-Or and Sue Holingsworth, had choosen a story for all of us, so we all got an individual story to tell. It has been very exciting to follow the progress from getting the story to finding out, why the story was given to me.
The wondertales hold secrets, it is said, and we have all experienced how we have dug out old stories from inside ourselves. We have wept, laughed, sorrowed, joyed, danced and been frozen.
The way we have worked with the tales has been a true treasure for us.
For a long time I have found an interest in wondering what happens with the old witch in the forest, why did she become wicked and what happens to her afterwards. For Jorinda and Joringen, a Grimm's tale, I found some help in Nancy Mellon's book; Body Eloquence, which I strongly recommend to anybody who is interested in working with the stories of the body, the organs.
It was nice working with the story and a wonderful culmination to tell it to our great audience at last Thursday evening in the storytelling hut here at Emerson College.
Now we are working with biographical stories for at couple of weeks. Now is the time to combine all the crafts and tools we have learned. Lot of work, but very funny and exciting.
Soon we will be preparing for our last performances on the 13th and 14th of December.
I have already decided to com back to international school of storyeling in the spring.
If you like working with yourself through stories... COME!
http://www.schoolofstorytelling.com/
We have told stories in nature, we have worked with the four temperaments and the last two weeks we have been workin on wondertales.
I told Jorinda and Joringel.
The teachers, Roi GAl-Or and Sue Holingsworth, had choosen a story for all of us, so we all got an individual story to tell. It has been very exciting to follow the progress from getting the story to finding out, why the story was given to me.
The wondertales hold secrets, it is said, and we have all experienced how we have dug out old stories from inside ourselves. We have wept, laughed, sorrowed, joyed, danced and been frozen.
The way we have worked with the tales has been a true treasure for us.
For a long time I have found an interest in wondering what happens with the old witch in the forest, why did she become wicked and what happens to her afterwards. For Jorinda and Joringen, a Grimm's tale, I found some help in Nancy Mellon's book; Body Eloquence, which I strongly recommend to anybody who is interested in working with the stories of the body, the organs.
It was nice working with the story and a wonderful culmination to tell it to our great audience at last Thursday evening in the storytelling hut here at Emerson College.
Now we are working with biographical stories for at couple of weeks. Now is the time to combine all the crafts and tools we have learned. Lot of work, but very funny and exciting.
Soon we will be preparing for our last performances on the 13th and 14th of December.
I have already decided to com back to international school of storyeling in the spring.
If you like working with yourself through stories... COME!
http://www.schoolofstorytelling.com/
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Week 4
Silence
leaves peace
for listening
to the emptiness
in silence.
Silence fills
the gap
between me
and myself.
Silence
holds
the song
of the bird
- singing.
Silence
leaves me
empty
listening
to
silence.
This little poem was written after an exercise where we communicated with a partner - in silence.
Week 4 has been a time og going inside ourselves. Speaking our truth, who we are, what is our voice?
The theme has been folktales.
Now we have moved from creation tales, through stories about Gods and Goddesses, to animal stories and now stories about people.
We are all moved by the stories in one way or another. And somehow it seems, that we are all getting the stories that we need for healing old patterns, unresolved problems and shadow sides of ourselves or even blind spots.
This week I should tell about a man who was very good at counting. Anyone who knows me, also know that I'm not particularly good at algebra. And remembering all these numbers would be a challenge to me. It was an Arabian story, so of course there were camels in the story. But being who I am, from the flat land in Denmark, I couldn't really connect to this story about a man counting camels.
When I set out to work with the story, I remembered my grandfather, who was a kind man and always good at algebra. So I took the story to my home, where I was born, and added horses instead of camels.
And then I told the story my way. Then it worked for me. And I have a new story to tell, with numbers in it!
If this is the answer, what is the question?
This week has also given more to think about. I would love to be able to do much more storytelling, work with the stories for healing.
When we find things in the stories that touch us somehow, we get a chance to reframe 'the story of our life', and tell a new story. For every knot we loosen, there is a chance of feeling better inside.
So I ask myself about how I can spead the word, that it is possible to acheive a change, to be happy, to accept who you are and to live in good contact with yourself.
I hope I myself am a proof of that by being honest about how the stories work on me.
More will follow...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Week 3
The power of words
It's not a surprise, but the power of words is getting more and more obvious here at the International School of Storytelling.
This week's theme was animal stories, and I got to tell a story about some animals that were afraid of a new, unknown sound. Very soon they had turned it into a monster in their imagination, and their anxiety grew, untill the lion came and revealed the fact, that 'the monster' was a fat old frog'.
In my work as a therapist I often meet people who have turned little things into 'monsters'. It is so easy to just imagine and let your imagination do the work. But often it is better to face the 'monster' and find out what it really is that is frightening and limiting our freedom.
We have worked with beginnings and endings a lot this week. Some have felt the urge to alter a 'bad ending' into a 'good ending'. Because the ending or the content in the story was too cruel, too difficult to cope with or other reasons.
Our teacher in 'creative writing', Paul Mathews, said last week; 'Don't alter a story to be nice' Let the story speak for itself.'
I really agree with that. In my opinion the storyeller must do the inner work that is connected with working with the story. The story is a mirror for the person, and sometimes he doesn't like the shadows of himself, that he finds in it. But changing it not the way out, I think.
In stead the storyteller must choose whether he wants to meet these sides of himself, if he wants to tell the story or not.
What I really like about storytelling is, that it mirrors the listener in unique ways, and every listener finds himself in the story in different ways.
A storyteller can never know what hits who.
Many of us have - very strangely - experienced some resistance towards working with the stories. We love being here, the teachers are very, very good, so it feels odd.
I personally had a wonderful breakthrough this Thursday, when I finally found a feeling in myself saying YES to all the work that is connected to learning and rehearsing a story for performance.
And I was happy to tell my story on stage Thursday evening. I did my best, used my body naturally, I was myself. I'm still strugling with the language, but it is the NOW of storytelling, so it is ok.
I felt so happy afterwards and enjoyed the applause.
The nature around this place is wonderful, all the time changing. For new inspiration and energy a visit to the vegetable garden is awesome, so I go there every now and then.
I miss my friends at home very much, so I'm grateful for Skype and Facebook to stay connected.
 |
| On stage |
It's not a surprise, but the power of words is getting more and more obvious here at the International School of Storytelling.
This week's theme was animal stories, and I got to tell a story about some animals that were afraid of a new, unknown sound. Very soon they had turned it into a monster in their imagination, and their anxiety grew, untill the lion came and revealed the fact, that 'the monster' was a fat old frog'.
In my work as a therapist I often meet people who have turned little things into 'monsters'. It is so easy to just imagine and let your imagination do the work. But often it is better to face the 'monster' and find out what it really is that is frightening and limiting our freedom.
We have worked with beginnings and endings a lot this week. Some have felt the urge to alter a 'bad ending' into a 'good ending'. Because the ending or the content in the story was too cruel, too difficult to cope with or other reasons.
Our teacher in 'creative writing', Paul Mathews, said last week; 'Don't alter a story to be nice' Let the story speak for itself.'
I really agree with that. In my opinion the storyeller must do the inner work that is connected with working with the story. The story is a mirror for the person, and sometimes he doesn't like the shadows of himself, that he finds in it. But changing it not the way out, I think.
In stead the storyteller must choose whether he wants to meet these sides of himself, if he wants to tell the story or not.
What I really like about storytelling is, that it mirrors the listener in unique ways, and every listener finds himself in the story in different ways.
A storyteller can never know what hits who.
Many of us have - very strangely - experienced some resistance towards working with the stories. We love being here, the teachers are very, very good, so it feels odd.
I personally had a wonderful breakthrough this Thursday, when I finally found a feeling in myself saying YES to all the work that is connected to learning and rehearsing a story for performance.
And I was happy to tell my story on stage Thursday evening. I did my best, used my body naturally, I was myself. I'm still strugling with the language, but it is the NOW of storytelling, so it is ok.
I felt so happy afterwards and enjoyed the applause.
The nature around this place is wonderful, all the time changing. For new inspiration and energy a visit to the vegetable garden is awesome, so I go there every now and then.
I miss my friends at home very much, so I'm grateful for Skype and Facebook to stay connected.
 |
| The kitchen is always crowded with happy people |
 |
| The vegetable garden is amazing |
 |
| One sun smiles to another |
Friday, October 1, 2010
Week 2, Storytelling course
In one week so many things have happened, that I cannot possibly describe everything.
But I will write some examples of what we do in the course and what happens around us.
Each week we have a theme for the teaching. The first week it was 'creation stories', this week it has been stories about 'gods and goddesses'.
Already we can see what an impact the stories have on us. It is different how each person learn a story to tell. We work with learning the story through different techniques, as writing the bones, mapping the story and walking through the map. So we practice a lot. The first week we worked in groups of three, this week in pairs, and from now on we are on our own.
Noone has worked with their story without being touched somehow by the contents.
The stories are old, they have survived for many many years for a reason. We can mirror ourselves in the messages in the story on a very profound level.
Each week we pick a story, or the story picks us.
This week I picked the story about Indra and the Ants parade. You can read a version of the story here if you like. http://www.vuu.org/sermons/lj030223.htm
It's about never being satisfied, always wanting more, bigger, better etc. It certainly hits something in me. It as if I often have the feeling that I never know enough, I need more knowledge, must read more books, must expand somehow.
In the light of the story I can realize it is not about knowing more. For me it is time to look at what is already there and use it some more. I get this image of a piece of photopaper in the developing tray. It is nice to see when the picture comes out in its full potential.
I feel strong and powerful in a way that will during this work here at Emerson College bring out my full potential - for now. We are regularly reminded that the course is called The NOW of storytelling, because we tell with whatever we have right now. We're not try to be something we are not.
I am Danish, and I don't try to be English, so I tell with the accent and the words that I have in English.
Every day at the course is a rich learning process and I am very happy to be here.
Monday we started our felting class. In a way the felting can symbolize how the words come together as a story at a certain point as the wool suddenly sticks together as a piece of material.
I love working with the colours, so I shall be looking forward to the felting lessons. I already made my first piece.
College life is somewhat different from living alone. We are 12 people sharing a kitchen, but it still works out well.
We have fun and are getting used to each other's habit. In this picture you se peole from Korea, China, France and Denmark.
The highligt of this week on college was the celebration of the day for The Archangel Michael.
We had a wonderful dinner together after an afternoon of community work.
There were many tasks: Preparing the dinner, decorating the hall, weeding, harvesting potatoes, blessing the surroundings, and doing the flower arrangements. I took part of the flower arranging group and enjoyed that a lot. Such a nice earthly thing to do in the midst of the story about Indra, who couldn't get his palace big enough. :-)
We feed the spirit but we also need to feed the body.
And the food here is delicious!
But I will write some examples of what we do in the course and what happens around us.
Each week we have a theme for the teaching. The first week it was 'creation stories', this week it has been stories about 'gods and goddesses'.
Already we can see what an impact the stories have on us. It is different how each person learn a story to tell. We work with learning the story through different techniques, as writing the bones, mapping the story and walking through the map. So we practice a lot. The first week we worked in groups of three, this week in pairs, and from now on we are on our own.
Noone has worked with their story without being touched somehow by the contents.
The stories are old, they have survived for many many years for a reason. We can mirror ourselves in the messages in the story on a very profound level.
Each week we pick a story, or the story picks us.
This week I picked the story about Indra and the Ants parade. You can read a version of the story here if you like. http://www.vuu.org/sermons/lj030223.htm
It's about never being satisfied, always wanting more, bigger, better etc. It certainly hits something in me. It as if I often have the feeling that I never know enough, I need more knowledge, must read more books, must expand somehow.
In the light of the story I can realize it is not about knowing more. For me it is time to look at what is already there and use it some more. I get this image of a piece of photopaper in the developing tray. It is nice to see when the picture comes out in its full potential.
I feel strong and powerful in a way that will during this work here at Emerson College bring out my full potential - for now. We are regularly reminded that the course is called The NOW of storytelling, because we tell with whatever we have right now. We're not try to be something we are not.
I am Danish, and I don't try to be English, so I tell with the accent and the words that I have in English.
Every day at the course is a rich learning process and I am very happy to be here.
Monday we started our felting class. In a way the felting can symbolize how the words come together as a story at a certain point as the wool suddenly sticks together as a piece of material.
I love working with the colours, so I shall be looking forward to the felting lessons. I already made my first piece.
College life is somewhat different from living alone. We are 12 people sharing a kitchen, but it still works out well.
The highligt of this week on college was the celebration of the day for The Archangel Michael.
We had a wonderful dinner together after an afternoon of community work.
There were many tasks: Preparing the dinner, decorating the hall, weeding, harvesting potatoes, blessing the surroundings, and doing the flower arrangements. I took part of the flower arranging group and enjoyed that a lot. Such a nice earthly thing to do in the midst of the story about Indra, who couldn't get his palace big enough. :-)
And the food here is delicious!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The first week
It has already been one week!
Luckily there are 12 more weeks to go.
Thursday evening is our performance night. Each week two hosts vounteer to take care of setting the stage for the evening, coordinating the storytellers, arranging the room etc.
I volunteered to host the first evening with another participant.
On the 21st of September it was Peace One Day, and earlier this year Karsten Mathiasen form Denmark suggested, that we made that day into an international storytelling for peace-day.
In agreement with the class we chose that theme for the evening. It was great to feel connected to all other storytellers who had celebrated the day last Tuesday, two days earlier.
We had a wonderful evening, and the power of words shone beatifully through. Even though the told stories were not specifically about peace, knowing that this was the theme, they came to be about peace in a special way.
We started the evening by lighting a candle for peace within and around us, and we ended the evening by sending thougths to all people in the world who need a little peace.
Creation myths
All week we have worked with creation myths and the power of words.
We have a lot of fun here. We play with words, play games and exercise different possibilities of telling.
The work goes very deep. We connect not only to our own lives but also to our ancestors, to the old old time where the myths come from.
It is difficult for me to imagine how life has been 'in the beginning' when there was nothing!
Working with the myths, listening to them, give a strong feeling of belonging to something bigger. To be part of something that is much bigger than us.
We have worked with being aware of our backspace. Many times as a storyteller, one is aware of what is in front. So working with what is behind us is very strong and powerful. I think of all my ancestors without whom I wouldn't have been here.
In class
Already we can see how different our telling styles are. We are individuals, and this is The Now of Storytelling.
I was 'complaining' about not having enough English words to tell my story as well as I might have been able to in Danish.
Roi, one of our teachers said:
- We can tell the stories with what we have right now. We must not try to be what we are not. You tell the story with whatever words you have in the language you have right now.
This is very comforting.
The atmosphere in the class and from the teachers is very warm, loving and safe.
Ashley Ramsden and Roi Gal-Or work together in a wonderful way that really holds us, so there is plenty of room for everone to grow at their own pace.
I am so much looking forward to growing more myself as a storyteller, and to see my classsmates grow.
We all travel on our own path, and for 13 weeks we travel together.
From the Storytelling evening, that we celebrated for peace.
PACE = PEACE
Luckily there are 12 more weeks to go.
Thursday evening is our performance night. Each week two hosts vounteer to take care of setting the stage for the evening, coordinating the storytellers, arranging the room etc.
I volunteered to host the first evening with another participant.
On the 21st of September it was Peace One Day, and earlier this year Karsten Mathiasen form Denmark suggested, that we made that day into an international storytelling for peace-day.
In agreement with the class we chose that theme for the evening. It was great to feel connected to all other storytellers who had celebrated the day last Tuesday, two days earlier.
We had a wonderful evening, and the power of words shone beatifully through. Even though the told stories were not specifically about peace, knowing that this was the theme, they came to be about peace in a special way.
We started the evening by lighting a candle for peace within and around us, and we ended the evening by sending thougths to all people in the world who need a little peace.
Creation myths
All week we have worked with creation myths and the power of words.
We have a lot of fun here. We play with words, play games and exercise different possibilities of telling.
The work goes very deep. We connect not only to our own lives but also to our ancestors, to the old old time where the myths come from.
It is difficult for me to imagine how life has been 'in the beginning' when there was nothing!
Working with the myths, listening to them, give a strong feeling of belonging to something bigger. To be part of something that is much bigger than us.
We have worked with being aware of our backspace. Many times as a storyteller, one is aware of what is in front. So working with what is behind us is very strong and powerful. I think of all my ancestors without whom I wouldn't have been here.
In class
Already we can see how different our telling styles are. We are individuals, and this is The Now of Storytelling.
I was 'complaining' about not having enough English words to tell my story as well as I might have been able to in Danish.
Roi, one of our teachers said:
- We can tell the stories with what we have right now. We must not try to be what we are not. You tell the story with whatever words you have in the language you have right now.
This is very comforting.
The atmosphere in the class and from the teachers is very warm, loving and safe.
Ashley Ramsden and Roi Gal-Or work together in a wonderful way that really holds us, so there is plenty of room for everone to grow at their own pace.
I am so much looking forward to growing more myself as a storyteller, and to see my classsmates grow.
We all travel on our own path, and for 13 weeks we travel together.
From the Storytelling evening, that we celebrated for peace.
PACE = PEACE
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Now of Storytelling
From now and the next three months I expect to join the course 'the Now of Storytelling' at The international School of Storytelling in East Sussex, England.
I say 'expect' because tow years ago I was certain that I would take this course. But after only two weeks here I had to go home, because my husband was ill, and I wanted to be with him and take care of him untill he died in May 2009.
Now I am back.
It is a different experience this time. I'm already familiar with the surroundings, know where things are, the routines etc. That takes some of beginner's stress off, so I can concentrate on the workshops fully.
A daily routine is
- storytelling exercises in the morning in a very playful way
. the storyteller's toolbox is being filled
- after lunch we have different workshops: singing, felting and creative writing
Creative writing is really creative. Our teacher Paul Matthews just love words, and his enthusiasm helps us feeling at ease with making stores, poems etc.
This week the theme is 'creation myths', so we explore that field in everything we do.
It is amazing to experience how quickly we 14 participants have formed a group, made relations and can work together across ages, colours, countries and all other 'borders'.
Today we told peace stories. In a very easy way we learned how to learn the story quickly in order to tell it. Normally we will get the story to work with for a longer time and having time to 'digest' it, sleep on it etc.
Digesting a story can be a very special experience.
Personally if I have found a story I really like to tell, I must turn and twist every nuance of it to make it 'my story'.
I have to feel the feelings, imagine all the sites, having pictures on every situation etc. Otherwise I cannot learn the story, I cannot tell it in a natural way.
Accomodations
We live in samll rooms and share bathrooms, toilets and kitchen.
In my house there are two chinese men, two women from Korea, a man from Singapore, a man from Pakistan, a man from Oxford, Uk, a woman from France, and us 4 women from Denmark.
We are having a lot of fun, learning about each other's countries, listening patiently while some are struggling with the English language.
We learn about each other's standard on cleaning, how to do the dishes etc. No dishwashers, so we do it the old fashioned way. We smell the odours of different traditions on cooking etc.
Very very interesting.
We might look a lot different on the outside, but we laugh at the same jokes, enjoy the nature, the nice weather etc.
After just a few days here I am very convinced that it is the right decision to be here. I enjoy every minute of it. I want to not only learn a lot more but also to let shine through what I know already.
I am a storyteller!
I say 'expect' because tow years ago I was certain that I would take this course. But after only two weeks here I had to go home, because my husband was ill, and I wanted to be with him and take care of him untill he died in May 2009.
Now I am back.
It is a different experience this time. I'm already familiar with the surroundings, know where things are, the routines etc. That takes some of beginner's stress off, so I can concentrate on the workshops fully.
A daily routine is
- storytelling exercises in the morning in a very playful way
. the storyteller's toolbox is being filled
- after lunch we have different workshops: singing, felting and creative writing
Creative writing is really creative. Our teacher Paul Matthews just love words, and his enthusiasm helps us feeling at ease with making stores, poems etc.
This week the theme is 'creation myths', so we explore that field in everything we do.
It is amazing to experience how quickly we 14 participants have formed a group, made relations and can work together across ages, colours, countries and all other 'borders'.
Today we told peace stories. In a very easy way we learned how to learn the story quickly in order to tell it. Normally we will get the story to work with for a longer time and having time to 'digest' it, sleep on it etc.
Digesting a story can be a very special experience.
Personally if I have found a story I really like to tell, I must turn and twist every nuance of it to make it 'my story'.
I have to feel the feelings, imagine all the sites, having pictures on every situation etc. Otherwise I cannot learn the story, I cannot tell it in a natural way.
Accomodations
We live in samll rooms and share bathrooms, toilets and kitchen.
In my house there are two chinese men, two women from Korea, a man from Singapore, a man from Pakistan, a man from Oxford, Uk, a woman from France, and us 4 women from Denmark.
We are having a lot of fun, learning about each other's countries, listening patiently while some are struggling with the English language.
We learn about each other's standard on cleaning, how to do the dishes etc. No dishwashers, so we do it the old fashioned way. We smell the odours of different traditions on cooking etc.
Very very interesting.
We might look a lot different on the outside, but we laugh at the same jokes, enjoy the nature, the nice weather etc.
After just a few days here I am very convinced that it is the right decision to be here. I enjoy every minute of it. I want to not only learn a lot more but also to let shine through what I know already.
I am a storyteller!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The wise heart
Nancy Mellon and Ashley Ramsden wrote a book called 'Body Eloquence'
I found something about the heart, that I would like to quote here:
"The Persian poet Hafiz wrote:
"Your heart and my heart
are very old friends."
Even as we go about our sometimes jangled and dissonant lives, we resonate with one another. Whenever our hearts meet warmly, their circulating power permeates our whole selves with a reassuring sense of well- being. Wen we meet someone who lives fully in their heart's majestic realm, we naturally feel awe and gratitude. At the other extreme, those whose hearts seem cold or empty tend to be puzzling or frightening."
And here's a tale from Borneo:
Who is more important?
A very long time ago, when all parts of the body were just beginning to get together, they gathered for a conference. They were trying to decide which was most important.
The eyes were first to speak. They said, 'It is clear that we see into everything. We recognize what is coming. We are the ones who perceive the truth.'
Said the ears, 'We are more important.'
'You? What about me? said the mouth. 'Everything comes through my door.'
'Fools,' said the feet. 'We carry you everywhere.'
'What about me? said the nose.
'Let's face it,' said the sexual organs. 'If it weren't for us, you wouldn't be sitting here at all.'
On and on went the debate. The different parts of the body argued amongst themselves for long days and nights. Finally, all the parts were exhausted. Then they heard a voice that seemed to come from very far and also very near, inside all the other voices. They recognized it as their own, and yet not their own. It whispered and also thundered within them.
'My brothers and sisters, have you forgotten my pleasure in your existence?' This was the voice of the heart speaking. 'How can we exist without any one of us?'
All the other voices knew what the heart had spoken was true, and they were filled with joy and peace.
I wonder, could we learn from the heart that all beings are important?
Could we come to a point where people do not have to fight about importance or power?
I am wondering what would happen in the world if all the agressiveness that is now spent on fighting would be spent on loving and giving room for each other?
I need to have a talk with my own heart as well....
I found something about the heart, that I would like to quote here:
"The Persian poet Hafiz wrote:
"Your heart and my heart
are very old friends."
Even as we go about our sometimes jangled and dissonant lives, we resonate with one another. Whenever our hearts meet warmly, their circulating power permeates our whole selves with a reassuring sense of well- being. Wen we meet someone who lives fully in their heart's majestic realm, we naturally feel awe and gratitude. At the other extreme, those whose hearts seem cold or empty tend to be puzzling or frightening."
And here's a tale from Borneo:
Who is more important?
A very long time ago, when all parts of the body were just beginning to get together, they gathered for a conference. They were trying to decide which was most important.
The eyes were first to speak. They said, 'It is clear that we see into everything. We recognize what is coming. We are the ones who perceive the truth.'
Said the ears, 'We are more important.'
'You? What about me? said the mouth. 'Everything comes through my door.'
'Fools,' said the feet. 'We carry you everywhere.'
'What about me? said the nose.
'Let's face it,' said the sexual organs. 'If it weren't for us, you wouldn't be sitting here at all.'
On and on went the debate. The different parts of the body argued amongst themselves for long days and nights. Finally, all the parts were exhausted. Then they heard a voice that seemed to come from very far and also very near, inside all the other voices. They recognized it as their own, and yet not their own. It whispered and also thundered within them.
'My brothers and sisters, have you forgotten my pleasure in your existence?' This was the voice of the heart speaking. 'How can we exist without any one of us?'
All the other voices knew what the heart had spoken was true, and they were filled with joy and peace.
I wonder, could we learn from the heart that all beings are important?
Could we come to a point where people do not have to fight about importance or power?
I am wondering what would happen in the world if all the agressiveness that is now spent on fighting would be spent on loving and giving room for each other?
I need to have a talk with my own heart as well....
Friday, April 2, 2010
The power of group
narrative medicine: relationships, stories, and healing
Lewis Mehl-Madrona
A medical doctor trained at Stanford University School of Medicine, Lewis Mehl-Madrona has pioneered the conscious intregration of Native American approaches to healing with 21st-century health care. He is the author of Coyote Medicine, Coyote Healing, and Coyote Wisdom, a trilogy of books on what Native American culture has to offer the modern world. In this excerpt from Narrative Medicine: The Use of History and Story in the Healing Process, he discusses how relationships and the sharing of our personal stories can be tools for combating disease.
The Power of Large Groups in Shaping Identity
A few people have a bed for the night
For a night the wind is kept from them
The snow meant for them falls on the roadway
But it won’t change the world
It won’t improve relations among men
It will not shorten the age of exploitation.
—Bertolt Brecht
Imagine a ceremony in a rural area near Duncan, British Columbia, on Vancouver Island. In the longhouse, a youth is being initiated. Two hundred people are singing. The rhythm of multiple drums and rattles sets the pace. The youth is lying flat. He is lifted up and carried on the shoulders of eight men. He remains this way for four days after which time he is returned to the vertical. The collected energy is awe-inspiring. Even the trees outside are vibrating in the thick fog.
Western culture has forgotten the power of large groups. Modern culture’s closest version is the sports spectacle, which has a very different intent from ceremony and ritual. Religious services provide us with some sense of group power, but modern religion has vitiated the power of its ceremonies so greatly that it is hard to feel. (Notable exceptions to this generalization exist, including in some Roman Catholic masses, evangelical revival meetings, and Gospel churches.) While we can still go to ceremony in areas rich in aboriginal culture, it has vanished for much of the urban world.
In my teachings about ceremony and ritual, I like to show people how easy it is for a group of strangers to come together, create shared ceremony that is inclusive of elements of all their cultures, and then enact it. Whenever people gather with the same intent, coherence occurs. Coherence implies connectivity. In essence, we hook up. Hearing stories is healing. It requires a group setting to produce those stories and to hear other people’s stories. Within the group, we can hear the story and consider its source. Others are present to corroborate the story, thereby demystifying it. We have a diversity of sources supporting a common story. As people have become more and more isolated, however, such group experiences have become progressively less common in modern life. Lost along with the sense of community group experiences engender, is the opportunity to take a storied approach to health care through a process of group re-authoring. Groups that can provide this do still exist, and include Alcoholics Anonymous, the Native American church, and others in which people give testimony and the group reshapes the story, in a sense “re-authoring” a new story in a collaborative framework.
Life is storied and narrative is the mode in which meaning and values are stored. This allows for multiple techniques for transformation. We are not limited to one set of local practices and values, regardless of how successful they are in that locale. They may not generalize. As one elder told me, “When you think you know what you’re doing, you don’t. When you think you know what’s going on, you’re wrong.” That’s an important perspective to keep. We can talk about what we think we’re doing and what we think is going on as we work collaboratively with others, but in the spirit of remembering that we’re probably wrong and we’re only making gross approximations anyway. Transformative practices and results spontaneously emerge in large groups when people gather with the same intention, defying rational explanation.
In medicine, we doctors are faced with the difficulty that most of us don’t know that we have a story. We think everything we do is the factual truth. We forget that history really means “his story” or “her story.” When we talk to someone about her illness, we are actually helping her tell her story, how she came to be where she is. Having other family members and friends present results in a much richer story than would emerge with just the individual there. Health care is supposed to build on the story with each contact, but if we don’t know the story, each contact becomes a closed episode of its own, disconnected from every other episode. Fragmentation results as the outcome of a nonstoried approach to health care.
Disease Is Found Within Relationships
In the view of conventional medicine, disease is found within organs. Autopsies with microscopic confirmation are the ultimate form of diagnosis. When we look for disease, we look for structural and enzymatic changes within individual organs. Aboriginal elders tell me that what we are seeking is only the footprint of the disease. Looking as we do, we only find the tracks and traces of disease, which, they say, is long gone by the time a person dies. Look for the disease within the relationships, they say. That is where it is found. The rest is consequences and effects of the disease. This leads us to a consideration of the logic behind spiritual healing, for it addresses what lies between people, or between people and spirits, or people and earth energies.
Is some of the potential value of conventional medicine that it offers a break from being accountable for our own health as people? If it’s all random and biological and genetic, then it’s best left up to the experts. We can relax. We don’t have to change anything. We’re not responsible. We can just do what the experts tell us and let the chips fall where they may. For Europeans, modern medicine also broke the tightfisted hold of the church. In that context, illness had been seen as punishment from God. Illness was not supposed to be cured because doing so interfered with God’s divine will to punish. Healers were burned at the stake in thirteenth-century France and Spain. Conventional medicine freed Europeans from this terrible burden, from this belief that illness was justified punishment. If it was merely random and genetic, and people weren’t responsible, then the Church had to stop vilifying the sick. Clearly this was a step forward.
What must be pointed out, however, is that indigenous cultures didn’t need this liberation. While the conventional medical story may have liberated Europeans who had been held captive by the Roman Catholic Church, it was not so beneficial to aboriginal people who did not have the same need for liberation. An Assinboine elder put it bluntly:
From the treaty, they took everything away, the diet, the way of life; all that was put on the earth by the Great Spirit. The new diet made the people weaker. It was too much change, too quickly … [The old people] say that they brought sickness over from across the water; sickness like typhoid fever. And after they got rid of the Indian medicine and the people had to take white medicine, and some of it made us real sick. They kind of damaged our bodies through pills and their side effects. They were experimenting on us. It was the tame food, too. We were used to eating wild game. That’s why they figured our bodies lacked the strength they had before.
Thus, narrative medicine represents a search for a storied understanding of health and disease that works for all the world’s peoples, and not just Europeans. It is as compatible with indigenous knowledge and healing as it is with European-derived approaches. It is not compatible with a position, like that taken by much of medicine, which restricts truth to only one story—that of biology and genetics. Conventional medicine has served people by freeing them from the bondage of Old World religions and giving them permission to not heal, address change, or restore balance and harmony—to just relax and be passive. Some need this, and we can be thankful that it is available for them. But not everyone wants this approach, which is why we need diversity and a more narrative approach to medicine.
Those of us who attempt to bridge the Native world and the world of conventional medicine are trying to conceptualize and integrate the wisdom of indigenous cultures with biological medicine. We believe that current medical explanations for health and disease are culturally driven, and that we cannot separate biology from culture.
Lewis Mehl-Madrona, MD, PhD, is trained in family medicine, psychiatry, and clinical psychology and has been on the faculties of several medical schools. He is of Cherokee and Lakota heritage.
Don’t miss Lewis Mehl-Madrona at Kripalu: Coyote Healing: The Power of Native American Spirituality, April 30–May 2, and Cherokee Bodywork, May 2–7.
Lewis Mehl-Madrona
A medical doctor trained at Stanford University School of Medicine, Lewis Mehl-Madrona has pioneered the conscious intregration of Native American approaches to healing with 21st-century health care. He is the author of Coyote Medicine, Coyote Healing, and Coyote Wisdom, a trilogy of books on what Native American culture has to offer the modern world. In this excerpt from Narrative Medicine: The Use of History and Story in the Healing Process, he discusses how relationships and the sharing of our personal stories can be tools for combating disease.
The Power of Large Groups in Shaping Identity
A few people have a bed for the night
For a night the wind is kept from them
The snow meant for them falls on the roadway
But it won’t change the world
It won’t improve relations among men
It will not shorten the age of exploitation.
—Bertolt Brecht
Imagine a ceremony in a rural area near Duncan, British Columbia, on Vancouver Island. In the longhouse, a youth is being initiated. Two hundred people are singing. The rhythm of multiple drums and rattles sets the pace. The youth is lying flat. He is lifted up and carried on the shoulders of eight men. He remains this way for four days after which time he is returned to the vertical. The collected energy is awe-inspiring. Even the trees outside are vibrating in the thick fog.
Western culture has forgotten the power of large groups. Modern culture’s closest version is the sports spectacle, which has a very different intent from ceremony and ritual. Religious services provide us with some sense of group power, but modern religion has vitiated the power of its ceremonies so greatly that it is hard to feel. (Notable exceptions to this generalization exist, including in some Roman Catholic masses, evangelical revival meetings, and Gospel churches.) While we can still go to ceremony in areas rich in aboriginal culture, it has vanished for much of the urban world.
In my teachings about ceremony and ritual, I like to show people how easy it is for a group of strangers to come together, create shared ceremony that is inclusive of elements of all their cultures, and then enact it. Whenever people gather with the same intent, coherence occurs. Coherence implies connectivity. In essence, we hook up. Hearing stories is healing. It requires a group setting to produce those stories and to hear other people’s stories. Within the group, we can hear the story and consider its source. Others are present to corroborate the story, thereby demystifying it. We have a diversity of sources supporting a common story. As people have become more and more isolated, however, such group experiences have become progressively less common in modern life. Lost along with the sense of community group experiences engender, is the opportunity to take a storied approach to health care through a process of group re-authoring. Groups that can provide this do still exist, and include Alcoholics Anonymous, the Native American church, and others in which people give testimony and the group reshapes the story, in a sense “re-authoring” a new story in a collaborative framework.
Life is storied and narrative is the mode in which meaning and values are stored. This allows for multiple techniques for transformation. We are not limited to one set of local practices and values, regardless of how successful they are in that locale. They may not generalize. As one elder told me, “When you think you know what you’re doing, you don’t. When you think you know what’s going on, you’re wrong.” That’s an important perspective to keep. We can talk about what we think we’re doing and what we think is going on as we work collaboratively with others, but in the spirit of remembering that we’re probably wrong and we’re only making gross approximations anyway. Transformative practices and results spontaneously emerge in large groups when people gather with the same intention, defying rational explanation.
In medicine, we doctors are faced with the difficulty that most of us don’t know that we have a story. We think everything we do is the factual truth. We forget that history really means “his story” or “her story.” When we talk to someone about her illness, we are actually helping her tell her story, how she came to be where she is. Having other family members and friends present results in a much richer story than would emerge with just the individual there. Health care is supposed to build on the story with each contact, but if we don’t know the story, each contact becomes a closed episode of its own, disconnected from every other episode. Fragmentation results as the outcome of a nonstoried approach to health care.
Disease Is Found Within Relationships
In the view of conventional medicine, disease is found within organs. Autopsies with microscopic confirmation are the ultimate form of diagnosis. When we look for disease, we look for structural and enzymatic changes within individual organs. Aboriginal elders tell me that what we are seeking is only the footprint of the disease. Looking as we do, we only find the tracks and traces of disease, which, they say, is long gone by the time a person dies. Look for the disease within the relationships, they say. That is where it is found. The rest is consequences and effects of the disease. This leads us to a consideration of the logic behind spiritual healing, for it addresses what lies between people, or between people and spirits, or people and earth energies.
Is some of the potential value of conventional medicine that it offers a break from being accountable for our own health as people? If it’s all random and biological and genetic, then it’s best left up to the experts. We can relax. We don’t have to change anything. We’re not responsible. We can just do what the experts tell us and let the chips fall where they may. For Europeans, modern medicine also broke the tightfisted hold of the church. In that context, illness had been seen as punishment from God. Illness was not supposed to be cured because doing so interfered with God’s divine will to punish. Healers were burned at the stake in thirteenth-century France and Spain. Conventional medicine freed Europeans from this terrible burden, from this belief that illness was justified punishment. If it was merely random and genetic, and people weren’t responsible, then the Church had to stop vilifying the sick. Clearly this was a step forward.
What must be pointed out, however, is that indigenous cultures didn’t need this liberation. While the conventional medical story may have liberated Europeans who had been held captive by the Roman Catholic Church, it was not so beneficial to aboriginal people who did not have the same need for liberation. An Assinboine elder put it bluntly:
From the treaty, they took everything away, the diet, the way of life; all that was put on the earth by the Great Spirit. The new diet made the people weaker. It was too much change, too quickly … [The old people] say that they brought sickness over from across the water; sickness like typhoid fever. And after they got rid of the Indian medicine and the people had to take white medicine, and some of it made us real sick. They kind of damaged our bodies through pills and their side effects. They were experimenting on us. It was the tame food, too. We were used to eating wild game. That’s why they figured our bodies lacked the strength they had before.
Thus, narrative medicine represents a search for a storied understanding of health and disease that works for all the world’s peoples, and not just Europeans. It is as compatible with indigenous knowledge and healing as it is with European-derived approaches. It is not compatible with a position, like that taken by much of medicine, which restricts truth to only one story—that of biology and genetics. Conventional medicine has served people by freeing them from the bondage of Old World religions and giving them permission to not heal, address change, or restore balance and harmony—to just relax and be passive. Some need this, and we can be thankful that it is available for them. But not everyone wants this approach, which is why we need diversity and a more narrative approach to medicine.
Those of us who attempt to bridge the Native world and the world of conventional medicine are trying to conceptualize and integrate the wisdom of indigenous cultures with biological medicine. We believe that current medical explanations for health and disease are culturally driven, and that we cannot separate biology from culture.
Lewis Mehl-Madrona, MD, PhD, is trained in family medicine, psychiatry, and clinical psychology and has been on the faculties of several medical schools. He is of Cherokee and Lakota heritage.
Don’t miss Lewis Mehl-Madrona at Kripalu: Coyote Healing: The Power of Native American Spirituality, April 30–May 2, and Cherokee Bodywork, May 2–7.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Love
When I see my friends as mirrors and let myself sink into whichever emotion awakens in me, I feel love. Simply love.
I found this poem on the internet a long time ago, and I have tried to find out more about the author, but there is not much.
So I'll just quote the beautiful poem here.
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good.
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.
I found this poem on the internet a long time ago, and I have tried to find out more about the author, but there is not much.
So I'll just quote the beautiful poem here.
LoveI love you
I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.
I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.
I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find
I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple.
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good.
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.
You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all.
by Roy Croft
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Expectations
Sometimes I catch myself expecting a lot from others.
That can be bad of course, but I find it even worse when I expect too much from myself.
Sometimes there is a constant critical voice in my head: 'Do this, do that, remember to..., you must finish,,,, how can you.... etc, etc.'... and although I try to keep up, I do need the voice to be quiet!!
It can be quite overwhelming to look around the house and see how many places need a gentle touch. And realizing that there are only 24 hours and a certain amount of energy available in a day.
Luckily I have learned a lot of ways to quiet down the voice.
I can replace it with a more gentle voice telling me to relax, to enjoy life, it's ok not to be busy all the time, it's ok to see friends, even in my cluttered house.
So I survive, and I keep up the good spirits.
But I also need to deal with my expectations to others.
I ask myself: If I send an sms or a mail to someone, can I expect to get a fast answer?
Yes, of course, I can expect anything.
Do I always get a fast answer?
No, of course not.
The issue is not, that I do not get a fast answer.
It is more about dealing with the fact that we have different needs, different timing and different opinions about when to do what. Respect.
Being a person who have always tried to be available, run faster, do better and smarter and so on and on, I am about to learn to expect less from myself. And from others.
Wish me luck!
That can be bad of course, but I find it even worse when I expect too much from myself.
Sometimes there is a constant critical voice in my head: 'Do this, do that, remember to..., you must finish,,,, how can you.... etc, etc.'... and although I try to keep up, I do need the voice to be quiet!!
It can be quite overwhelming to look around the house and see how many places need a gentle touch. And realizing that there are only 24 hours and a certain amount of energy available in a day.
Luckily I have learned a lot of ways to quiet down the voice.
I can replace it with a more gentle voice telling me to relax, to enjoy life, it's ok not to be busy all the time, it's ok to see friends, even in my cluttered house.
So I survive, and I keep up the good spirits.
But I also need to deal with my expectations to others.
I ask myself: If I send an sms or a mail to someone, can I expect to get a fast answer?
Yes, of course, I can expect anything.
Do I always get a fast answer?
No, of course not.
The issue is not, that I do not get a fast answer.
It is more about dealing with the fact that we have different needs, different timing and different opinions about when to do what. Respect.
Being a person who have always tried to be available, run faster, do better and smarter and so on and on, I am about to learn to expect less from myself. And from others.
Wish me luck!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Love on a string
What is love?
What is healing?
Can a lovely conversation be healing?
I think so. I experienced it today.
I talked on Skype with my good friend Roi Gal-Or.
We had a wonderful conversation about loosing, loving and feeling emotions in general.
Since my husband died in May last year, I have often felt a kind of hard to describe emptiness.
But I do not only feel emptiness. I feel lots of joy and happiness being able to do new things in my life, that I did not do before. I have met wonderful 'new' people who give me lots of fun and good conversations.
And to explain all that to Roi, I used a metaphor from the music world.
"It is as if one my inner strings is not being played anymore," I said.
We talked about how we can have many strings, and they can all played by different people. If there is a resonance, it is great!
And when we meet new people we find new strings, that perhaps we did not know existed.
"Nothing is wrong with sadness, frustration, anger and tension", said Roi. "We just have to learn to live with it. Be present with the strings. Accept that there are strings and notes that will never be played again. It's like remembering a note and a song of a certain time."
Like I have to accept that every period of my life forms a new chapter in 'the story of my life'.
There should be no judging, just observing - and telling the story.
And it is ok.
Two years ago I joined a course at Emerson College in England, where Roi and Liz Turkel had a workshop called 'The courage to love'. Since that meeting with a wonderful group of people, I have been more aware of the many many different aspects of love. And how you can love different people in different ways.
Unfortunately, sometimes the way we play each other's strings can turn into a false tune that hurts, but mostly it creates fine music.
"People meet and sweet music fills the heart", said the Danish poet Jens August Schade.
I think I know what he meant.
I love life, I hate to think of the alternative.
What is healing?
Can a lovely conversation be healing?
I think so. I experienced it today.
I talked on Skype with my good friend Roi Gal-Or.
We had a wonderful conversation about loosing, loving and feeling emotions in general.
Since my husband died in May last year, I have often felt a kind of hard to describe emptiness.
But I do not only feel emptiness. I feel lots of joy and happiness being able to do new things in my life, that I did not do before. I have met wonderful 'new' people who give me lots of fun and good conversations.
And to explain all that to Roi, I used a metaphor from the music world.
"It is as if one my inner strings is not being played anymore," I said.
We talked about how we can have many strings, and they can all played by different people. If there is a resonance, it is great!
And when we meet new people we find new strings, that perhaps we did not know existed.
"Nothing is wrong with sadness, frustration, anger and tension", said Roi. "We just have to learn to live with it. Be present with the strings. Accept that there are strings and notes that will never be played again. It's like remembering a note and a song of a certain time."
Like I have to accept that every period of my life forms a new chapter in 'the story of my life'.
There should be no judging, just observing - and telling the story.
And it is ok.
Two years ago I joined a course at Emerson College in England, where Roi and Liz Turkel had a workshop called 'The courage to love'. Since that meeting with a wonderful group of people, I have been more aware of the many many different aspects of love. And how you can love different people in different ways.
Unfortunately, sometimes the way we play each other's strings can turn into a false tune that hurts, but mostly it creates fine music.
"People meet and sweet music fills the heart", said the Danish poet Jens August Schade.
I think I know what he meant.
I love life, I hate to think of the alternative.
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