Inspired by a recent entry on Julius' blog, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this blog's many autobiographical qualities. As a rather direct chronicle of the past year, Dispatches and its previous incarnation, Jody's Quarter Life Adventure, tells the story of my renaissance, my new start in life after my divorce, and the new experiences I've had since. Really, though, even the past year, the past decade, is but a part of my life overall. And I've had some interesting episodes to say the least.
Like Julius, I'm fascinated and baffled by the motivation that inspires ordinary people to want to share their life stories with those who would listen, even those who could care less. Then again, some of the most interesting people I've learned about in the past year include Allie Brosh, who I've only learned about through her blog and who has really made me feel more all right with my own eccentricities (she has them too, and so do most of her 30,000 readers). Though I only have 13 "official" followers, I know many people read my entries, and take something away from them that helps them. That's my hope, anyway.
Every person's story has to have some value outside of that person's own life. You can't break everything down into objective, quantitative terms: do we all have to be John Nash to deserve to have our stories told? Howard Hughes? Temple Grandin? Out of six billion lives on the planet, does no one else have value?
If life has no inherent meaning - which I believe it doesn't - and if it's thus contingent upon us to assign meaning to it, then ultimately there are no ordinary stories. Very few boring stories: just maybe boring storytellers.
Poignancy exists, and joy, in the words of obscure writers, of which I'm still one, though I hope it changes. In the meantime, interesting, ordinary stories are everywhere. And though they're each unique, they are also shared human experiences.
A 21 year old woman in Britain is diagnosed with terminal cancer, so she moves up her wedding to her fiance in the hope of creating "the best day of her life". But it's such a common tale - touching, heartbreaking, deeply rich in human experience - that when I google "terminally-ill bride" to get the link for the story, I find numerous other entries for different people touched by this same kind of transformative experience. I first see the story on Yahoo! News one day, and I remember it.
A few days later, I hear this song on the radio, and the vision of one such dying bride falling into the arms of her new husband and choosing this song for their first dance plays out in a cinematic high definition in my mind's eye. And it's so poignant it hurts. Imagine a moment of such...honesty, to be among those teary-eyed guests in the presence of two people, savouring each instant of time with each other before an end that could come anytime.
I just made that moment up, true. But these real-life human experiences happen all the time. And many of us never hear about it, save for those who are witnesses, and those who choose to share.
How many of us have failed to be transformed by stories worth hearing because we never heard them?
My experiences aren't, for the most part, all that dramatic, but they are notable, and over the next few weeks, you'll start seeing more accounts of my 29th year. This has been so transformative for me, someone has to benefit from my story, even if it's just me telling it, and knowing someone else is reading it.
That's the hope, anyway
There might be boring storytellers, but it's not their fault. There are no stories. If we take it as a given that the future hasn't happened yet; and the past is gone and never fully captured, that leaves only NOW. And Now exists only in the moment. But so many things happen simultaneously, that to tell the whole truth, means you'd never stop talking.
ReplyDeleteSo there can be no stories. Only Now. Don't try to tell it.
Just live it.