The Meaning of Human Existence

 by Jack McKeon  

illustration by Arthur Rackham

A couple of months ago, I read a book by biologist Edward O. Wilson modestly titled “The Meaning of Human Existence”.  In it, Wilson makes the case that we are a “eusocial” species – one that cooperatively raises its young across multiple generations and which divides labor so that members must sacrifice some personal reproductive success for the success of the group.  There are, he says, about 23 such species, primarily insects (bees, ants, termites), a couple of African mole rats, and us.  We’ve attained this status by the adaptation of our ancestors to meat eating, which favored a more stable form of life than our previous wandering.  The “nest” or campsite developed, becoming the focus of social life.  Work became divided and complex and the community cared for the children.

    Aiding this eusocial development was a genetic disposition to be insatiably curious about ourselves and each other. This developed our sensitivity to the non-verbal messages put out by others, enabling us to interpret situations and anticipate the future. This function was further aided by the development of spoken, then written, language and the creative arts in general.

… the creative arts… are… in an important way just the

same old story, with the same themes, the same archetypes, the same emotions.

….

The function of anthrocentricity – fascination about ourselves – is the sharpening of social intelligence, a skill in which human beings are the geniuses among all the earth’s species…a state of intense, even obsessive concentration on others has always enhanced survival of individuals and groups. We are devoted to stories because that is how the mind works –

a never ending wandering through past scenarios and through alternative scenarios of the future.

It struck me that what we do is at the center of this process, not only in the actual act of telling stories but in the content of what we tell.  One of the consequences of our eusocial standing is a conflict between the individual’s drive for personal genetic success and the opposing need of the success of the group.  This is a conflict that has plagued us throughout our history and is playing out now in our own politics.

    Our stories, more often than not, deal with just this conflict. Take the Grimms’

“The Golden Bird”, which I recently told at the Morris County Juvenile Facilities.  This is a story with the typical three brother conflict.  The older two brothers, faced with the task of first identifying and then locating the bird, indulge their desire for sleep when they should be watching, and then, trusting to their “cleverness”, ignore the good advice of the fox that would have deprived them of some personal satisfaction.  So they get stuck living for pleasure and abandoning all responsibility towards a greater good.  Eventually they end up on the gallows – an interesting response of group control over the excessive individual – and are rescued by the more other-oriented youngest brother, only to resume their selfish, disastrous, behavior.

    This youngest brother, on the other hand, as is usual in these cases, assumes the responsibility of watching through the night and heeds the advice of the fox to avoid the snares of the Inn of pleasure and assume the humility of the dark, quiet inn.  In this way he attains the invaluable assistance of the fox. He pays attention for the good of all, at some discomfort to himself, at least this time.  (Other third sons gain helpful assistance by engaging in generous, socially conscious sharing of food or information.)

    The youngest brother is not without flaws, however, mainly an inability, shared with his brothers, to accept the humble when the grand is available.  He is still trapped by a desire for “show” that each time arouses the community and lands him in prison.  Each time he is given a reprieve by the various kings – the social authority – if he can only bring something further that might be useful for the community.  Even his final task, accomplished by the fox, of removing a hill blocking the king’s window is to enable the king to see further, an increase in power rather than wealth.  By the end, the youngest brother has obtained the animal power and energy of the horse, the spirituality of the bird and the life asserting force of the anima/princess.  However, they are usurped for personal gain by the older brothers and ultimately do not function in a positive way.  Only by approaching them with humility, as the youngest does in the guise of a beggar, can they be persuaded to sing, eat and be joyful. The youngest son then becomes heir to the throne, the new social condition..  The individual has integrated in himself all that can make him whole in such a way that he blesses and unifies the kingdom at large.  The apparent conflict between individual and society is resolved and everybody wins.  Except the elder brothers who are put to death.  While this doesn’t actually address the biological imperative of the individual to reproduce personal DNA at all costs, one can imagine that prince and princess will have lots of children in a manner sanctioned by society.

    It’s nice to see us storytellers on the front lines of this eons old and ongoing battle for civilization.  I think of last year’s workshops with the 6^th grade at Frelinghuysen in which we told stories and ran exercises about the benefits of community.  Our stories work towards a socialization that traditional societies accomplished more forcefully and sometimes brutally.

    What about the fox?

Our stories about animals require human like emotions and behavior understandable with well worn guidebooks of human nature.  We use endearing animal caricatures including those of even tigers and other ferocious predators to teach children about other people.

    I think there’s more to what we find in the animals in tales, particularly the helpful creatures like the fox.  Part of this fascination is our intuitive connection with animals which we lose as we become civilized.  Our houses are filled with animals, not, I think, just for companionship but because we need that connection, however domesticated.  It’s fascinating to watch my Aussie do her best to herd and control my two cats, or to listen to the guttural noises the cats make as they watch the birds out the window. We need to be close to them to be reminded of who and what we are.  The animals in story speak with that inner voice that resides deep in our brain.  They are us.  We are at our best when we can listen to these foxes, who, perhaps ironically, always put us onto the difficult and uncomfortable road towards civilization.  But if we listen we can experience, as at the end of “The Golden Bird”, the transformation of animal to civilized being.

illustration by Jamie Mitchell

More About Community and Imagination

The Fool of the World and the Flying Ship (postcard illustration)

"Over all what I learned from this experience is that a community is a very powerful and that imagination is very big." This comment is from a 6th grade student I (Paula) taught in the storytelling project described by Julie in the previous post. 

For this project, tellers and 6^th grade ELA teachers were paired to collaboratively plan and teach a three-day storytelling program that would reinforce the teachers’ literacy goals in their English Language Arts classes and give all participants an opportunity to reflect upon the role of community in various aspects of our lives, and on the responsibility of the individual to his or her community. Although we had guidelines in the form of a general residency plan for each day, storytellers were given the freedom to choose own own material and plan specific workshop activities. Each day of the residency focused on an aspect of working with story: discussion, movement, and writing, respectively.

I collaborated with Ashley Daly, an experienced English language arts teacher whose enthusiasm for teaching and learning is obvious in everything she does in the classroom. She made me, a guest teacher, feel welcome and comfortable, and it was clear that, even at this early stage of their first year in a new, much larger school, sixth graders feel safe in her classroom. Although we began the residency with a detailed lesson plan for each day, we continued to tweak the plan from day to day and, even, from class to class, as we worked through it.

The first day, the discussion day, was also an introduction to storytelling for most of the students and for Ashley. For this reason, I choose to tell three stories during the eighty minute workshop. I began the workshop with Stone Soup because the story provides an example of how collaboration enhances everyone’s experience, but it also reminds us that successful collaborations may require creative persuasion to get the ball rolling. My second story, Sungara Muddies the Water Hole (http://www.sacred-texts.com/afr/mlb/mlb19.htm), also provides an example of how successful communities put aside differences when working towards a common goal. However, because the main character is Trickster, the story raises the question of how the community deals with an uncooperative and, possibly, destructive presence.

Students recognized themselves and each other in the Sungara character when they talked about the kid who refuses to do his or her part in a class project, or whose behavior diminishes everyone else’s experience of a special event. Most of them had come up with or been given strategies for dealing with the character. They also recognized that Trickster has strengths that could enrich the community.

The third story I told this day was Tatterhood. I chose it after discussing plans with my colleague. Jack McKeon, who paired the tale with Jack and the Beanstalk as examples how a non conventional individual struggles to integrate into a community. I thought Tatterhood would provide students with an interesting contrast to Sungara.

Students really enjoyed Tatterhood, but it was the most difficult story for them to discuss. In all of our discussions, it was hard for students to admit their connection to the outcast character. I don’t think they weren’t empathetic, but that the fear of being ostracized is so integral to the sixth grade psyche that public discussion of it is taboo. I imagine, judging from the comfort level she has already established, that this will change in Ashley’s classes as the year progresses.

Day two of the residency was creative drama day. For this workshop I told The Girl Who Dreamed Only Geese from Howard Norman’s collection and used a series of creative drama exercises that gave students the opportunity to ‘live’ in the tale. I could write pages about this story, but I will only say that was perfect for our theme. Ashley and I adjusted the creative drama activities throughout the day based on the impact we thought they made on previous classes. We had a very strong workshop by the end of the day and I was lucky to have a second chance to teach it in Sarah Satkowski’s classroom. Here is what we ended up doing: After hearing the story, each student was assigned a character. (We began by letting students choose a character, but after the first session, we felt that imposing the character would better suit our goal which was to help students empathize with story characters and understand how characters change as the narrative progresses.) A visualization exercise allowed students to become their character. After walking and talking in their new persona, students told, in first person as their character, a part of the character’s story that wasn’t revealed in the story narrative. These narratives were often insightful and, sometimes, quite moving.

Day Three was writing day. I told The Fool of the World and the Flying Ship and asked students to compare it with the first story of the residency, Stone Soup. Students wrote about how their experience with the stories and with storytelling changed their ideas about community. Here are some of the things they wrote:

Story telling really changed the way I thought community was because I thought that community was just a town... Now I learned that community is a very important thing in our lives.

At first all I knew about community was that it’s a group of people who help each other to make a better place. After the stories I learned that in a community everyone depends on each other. It’s somewhat like an ecosystem.

I’ve learned that you should always be cautious about what you say about other people because they might not be what they appear to you.

From Tatterhood, I learned… it’s okay to be you. Also I have learned from the Fool that not all intelligence starts off as clever.

Sometimes 1 person can ruin all the hard work you had worked on.

The stories taught me to give people a chance to prove themselves.

I learned that a community can turn a weak and small person into a big and strong person. What I’m trying to say is that a community is stronger than just one person because everyone has a useful talent and with a group of talents, you can do anything.

Overall I learned that if you build a better community or help out with things in your community you may meet people you never really would have or try new things you didn’t know you could do and maybe even make friends by what you are doing in the community with the people you meet.

Storytelling and Community: A Tale of Middle School

Image by Arthur Rackham

A great, great experience at Frelinghuysen Middle School this fall. Sixth grade ELA teacher, Sarah Satkowski, is a joy to work with, an amazing teacher. I loved watching her extend the discussions and writings to fit the needs of her different classroom communities. She really knows sixth graders.  Sarah took lessons from the stories, characters from the stories, and words from the students and expertly wove them into mini-lessons of respect, character, language building and community formation.

As a storyteller hired by an ARTS council, I wanted to emphasize the ‘art’ part of storytelling in all three sessions. (Paula subbed for me on day 2, but we were in conversation). I researched storytelling performance and culture from Haiti and Africa. Paula spoke to the same in the Artic. Because the underlying theme was community I wanted to stress how storytelling brought (brings) communities together, and how storytellers are responsible for keeping the traditions and cultures viable in these communities.

Another underlying conceit was that of storytelling as a form of communication in all forms, oral, physical and written.

In discussion via email Sarah and I developed the following plan of attack.

Day 1: What is storytelling? What is community? Listening and oral response were the focus.

We started with blank chart paper titled “What is storytelling?” The students worked in groups with post-it notes and developed ideas of what they thought was going to happen. These were put on the chart and added to or subtracted from as the students got to hear stories. A few of their ideas were: Storytelling is  the art of creating a story, suspenseful, entertaining with creativity and imagination, beautiful language, connect to audience, magical, stories explain the unexplainable.

I told a story from Haiti. We discussed briefly answering such questions as “Why did so and so do this?” “What happened to so and so?”  Then another post-it note session for students to generate ideas to answer, “What is Community?” Some of what they wrote: Community is working together to solve a problem, to be respectful and responsible, rules and laws, connecting to each other, a civilized group.

I spoke about storytelling in Haiti and then told more Haitian tales from The Magic Orange Tree. Deep oral discussion followed. Inevitably the question arose, “Are these stories true?” Staying quiet, I waited to hear how they would respond. One girl said,” It could be true without the magic in it.”

Day 2:  Exploring stories and characters through movement

Paula told The Girl Who Dreamed Geese and led the class in movement exercises.  Sarah and students told me all about it. As you will see in her response (below) Sarah honed in on the aspect of empathy. She brought this up as we listened to stories on Day 3. I believe it’s true. We feel empathy for the characters as we listen. Even if it is only for those 6-10 minutes of the story, we have at least experienced empathy.

Day 3: Exploring storytelling and community through writing

Sarah came up with some great questions to be used as writing prompts. These were written on chart paper. Before we even talked about what students were going to write, stories were told and discussed. This time stories came from countries in Africa. Again, we explored storytelling traditions and cultural values.

At this point students wrote. Sarah lets them chose from different writing prompts. 

These were posted.

1)    How are storytelling and community connected?

2)     Chose one story and explain what it tells us about community.

3)    How has the storytelling experience changed our classroom community?

The students chose one prompt,wrote and then shared a bit. We made sure to save enough time for a short wrap up story.  Here are some of the students’ writings. Sarah’s is here as well.

Excerpts from student’s writings:

·       “The community and storytelling are both alike because the stories that a storyteller tell (sic) can be true.”

·      “Storytelling is time when you need a community to talk and discuss about storytelling People participating is a sign of community.”

·      “The story I chose was Anansi’s Six Sons. This story tells us that to have a good community everyone has to do their part. All of Anansi’s sons helped him in their own way...”

·      “A story that involved community was Tipingee. When the girls teamed up and saved Tipingee from becoming a servant, they worked together as one little community.”

·      “Most storys (sic) or folk-tales are about a community coming together or working together just like a community would. The things we need to have to have a successful community is another thing we learned from storytelling. Story telling helped us learn more about communitys (sic) work and how important it is to have a successful community.”

·       “I think we have changed in a happy way because we enjoy storytelling and love hearing the fun stories and activities we do. That’s why I think storytelling has changed our classroom and also we learned about different cultures.”

·     

Sarah Satkowski (teacher) This was written in the time, at the same time, allotted to students.

     “Over the three storytelling sessions with Julie and Paula I think that our classroom community has changed dramatically. To begin, I feel that listening to stories leveled the playing field and really allowed everyone equal access to understanding and engagement. The content of the stories we heard facilitated conversations around many of the pillars of community and allowed us to examine our roles in communities. I believe the most challenging aspect of this experience has been our willingness to share, increased comfort level with one another and our ability to empathize. (Something that is often sorely missed in middle school.)

     Overall--- I think we are all better community members because of storytelling.”

Post by Julie Della Torre

Girl Power: Notes from the field

By Luray Gross and Maria LoBiondo - Storytellers for Girl Power! held during the KidsBridge to the Arts Camp 2013



One of the Girl's collage's exploring themes in “Tipingee”

The girls slouched on couches in a half-circle near the end of a very busy day packed with theater, dance, choir, songwriting, and visual art. It was day two of Kids Bridge to the Arts Summer Camp, and energy was low. 

            Then one of our nine middle schoolers asked, “Why is this called ‘Girl Power’?”

            “Where is your power?” we countered.

The girls perked up.  Once the conversation on respect and self-empowerment started, their ideas flowed. Physical power was mentioned first, but then came the power of our words, the ability to take control of a situation, being thoughtful. This was the perfect lead in to writing personal poems that reflected what each girl thought about themselves.

 
            Describing herself as the element of water, one girl wrote: “I would be snow so that I can cover bad things. Then I melt and they are carried away.” Another wrote, “My body is a temple…. Even when it is insulted, it stands strong always.”

The discussion about power also related to the story we would work on for the rest of the week: the folktale “Tipingee.” This story, published by Diane Wolkstein in her classic collection of Haitian folktales, The Magic Orange Tree, revolves around how spunky, savvy Tipingee, along the help of her friends, saves herself from being taken away by a stranger to be his servant. 

            It had quickly come to mind when we were choosing a story for a group of middle-school girls to hear, explore, play around with, internalize, and – ultimately – present for an audience of fellow campers (ages 6 – 13), teen counselors, and an assorted crowd of parents, grandparents, and other supportive adults.

             We wanted a story in which a girl, facing difficulty, takes charge of her fate, and a story that emphasized the role of young people helping each other. Our time would be quite limited, so we needed a story with mnemonic devices and a plot that would not be difficult to learn. Like many Haitian tales, “Tipingee” includes three nearly identical mini-episodes and a chant which listeners are encouraged to repeat. Overall, we wanted a story the girls could have fun with. We were, after all, planning for summer camp, not the heart of an academic program.

             We explored “Tipingee” through collage and journal writing as well as discussion. The girls keyed in to the emotions and examples of power in the story through both art forms.

            On Thursday, we decided how to divide the story for telling, and one of the girls suggested that her role would be to come up with an introduction. There was just time to try it out and be sure everyone knew where to begin and end. 

             As the hall filled on Friday afternoon, one of our very capable, but also self-conscious girls, came up and announced, “I’m not telling my part.  I can’t, I’m too nervous.”

    “But, Kyara,” we said. “We need you. We need all the parts of the story.”

     “Is everyone else going to do it?”

     “Yes,” we said, counting on no more attempted defections.

     “Okay.”

            Of course, Kyara did not leave her friends in the lurch.

 
        “I’m Tipingee, she’s Tipingee, we’re Tipingee too,” the girls chanted together from their places on the stage at the afternoon showcase, the culmination of the Trenton, NJ, Kids’ Bridge to the Arts Camp 2013. In a week, “our” girls had become a cohesive and powerful group of storytellers. Proud as any parent might be, we watched and listened from the back of the crowded hall.