I have always loved stories.
My mum continued to read to me long after I had started to read myself. While I was making my way through Janet and John, she was reading me The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.
I’ve continued this habit with my children, reading them everything from Silas Marner to Black Beauty and Enid Blyton and, of course, Tolkien’s fabulous fantasies.
Before my children came along, I trained as a sick children’s nurse at Great Ormond Street Hospital where I came to appreciate how play and stories help children understand what is happening to them and their bodies.
Some children are presented with life’s most challenging hurdles and I witnessed this every day that I staffed on the oncology unit at Llandough Hospital. David, at the age of 11 made a lasting impression on me. I was his named nurse during a bone marrow transplant but the procedure failed. As David was dying, I scoured the bookstores to find a book by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross called Remember the Secret about a child who is dying of leukaemia. I felt driven to find something I could share with David that mirrored his experience and would give him hope as he entered the unknown.
The importance of stories to speak to the most challenging experiences was brought home to me with even more force when I took a group of children from the Mildmay Hospital’s family care unit for families affected by HIV and AIDS to the British Museum where an Indian dancer told the story of Ganesha, the elephant headed God. The story goes that Siva, not recognising his son Ganesha, beheads him in fit of rage when Ganesha will not let him pass to see his mother. Overcome with remorse, when he realises what he has done, Siva replaces the child’s head with that of an elephant’s.
The little lad sitting by my side on the bus home, told me of the villagers he had seen beheaded before they had escaped their village and made their way to London. I was stunned by the way the story had spoken the unspeakable for this child and it made me determined to find stories that hold the power to meet us in our darkest places and carry us to the light of peace and freedom.
Fast forward quite a few years, to Tiree where at the Baptist church, I began to find my voice as a storyteller, telling stories that offered a moral compass to curious children. Of course, Jesus is known for his parables, sometimes marred in dogma as they’ve been transmitted down the ages, but stories of power nonetheless. It was at this point that I discovered the Storytelling Centre in Edinburgh and joined their apprentice programme. Scotland has a rich tradition of oral storytelling and it has been a delight to step into this living history under the tutelage of Janis Mackay.
TMF 2017 was particularly inspirational. I spent most of the weekend in Cinemor - the wonderful travelling community cinema housed in a yurt. I made the decision to set up a story tent on the same model and that’s where Tiree Story Tent was born. Next year, I was pitched next to Cinemor in the village at TMF and I’ve been delighted to be part of TMF ever since. Julie MacLennan gave me a book of stories in the first year, and from it, Tom and his Blue Coat has become a TMF favourite with children coming back the following year to ask to hear it again.
Stories aren’t just for children. I’ve been invited to tell at an event in Greece being held to explore the consciousness of water. I’m putting together a performance piece that combines the traditional Zulu story of Mbaba Mwasa Waresa, the Rain Goddess with an exploration of the waters of the womb and the water of tears.
I often use traditional stories to support my work as a Grief Recovery Method Specialist and End of Life Planning Facilitator - the story of the Bean Nighe is my particular favourite. She can be seen in these parts of the world washing blood stained clothes in the burn and if she lays her eyes on you, your death is certain. But, if you grab her unawares and suckle from her long breasts, she will grant you three boons. What boons would you ask the fairy of death?
I’ve performed on stage at the Netherbrow Theatre and participated in small storytelling circles. I was also one of the team from the Village Storytelling Centre in Glasgow gathering information for NHS Scotland about how people with dementia felt about their condition using storytelling to access the emotional response to an illness that strips the mind of its function. Stories lend themselves to so many different settings because they speak to the heart. Whether it’s on a child’s hospital bed or at a music festival or theatre or in a church, stories can lift and inspire us. I am planning a weekend retreat for next year — The Witch’s Apprenticeship — where we’ll use traditional stories about the Baba Yaga, Old Mother Holle and The Beautiful Crone of Cordoba to delve into the feminine psyche. I love stories that hold a lamp to the path, make us laugh, guide children, lift our spirits and make us cry.
It’s been a long journey from the young nurse at Great Ormond Street Hospital to professional storyteller — that’s a story in itself! I am grateful to everyone who has supported and encouraged me along the way.
Comments