Magic Lantern

Magic Lantern

Monday, April 11, 2016

Philosophy of Storytelling: Stories are like scars

When I was 7 years old, I accidentally sliced my finger open with a potato peeler. I have a scar on the third finger of my left hand that reminds me of that incident every day. It reminds me of the pain I felt in that moment, but it also reminds me of my aunt’s delicious mashed potatoes, the warmth of the holidays, and my mother laboring in the kitchen to make a savory turkey dinner. Every story leaves a scar. Whether it’s the scar on my finger or the memory in my heart, a story leaves its mark and that mark has a purpose. Its purpose is to teach us, remind us, encourage us, and show us who we are. When I was 15 years old, my pointe shoes destroyed my childlike feet. Callouses, blisters, and bruises formed from the intense wear and tear I endured during dance. I have a scar on the heel of my foot reminding me of those painful, yet incredible years. The scar reminds me of the hard work and passion I poured into dance; it reminds me of the many years that I spent expressing myself through the beautiful art of ballet. I cherish these scars, not only because they tell my story, but also because they define me. Without my battered feet, or my childhood experiences, I would not be the person I am today. Although scars are associated with a negative connotation, they often illuminate and expose the positive. With every bump, scrape, bruise, and cut, we heal and form a different mindset, we become a new person from the incidents in our lives. Through these scars, we remind ourselves of our stories, which allow us to grow and learn. We look to stories to search for answers, to figure out what happened, why, how, where. We look to stories to remind us of the moments in life that we enjoyed, cried, screamed, and laughed. Without these stories, and without these scars, storytelling would not be possible.