We all have stories. Too few tell them. Many of these stories, locked in the vault of our mind and heart, deserve to be told, whether good or bad, happy or sad, long ago or recent. Here is why.
Some 20 years ago, an epiphany washed over me. The generational challenges, activities, and tempo that had grown me up were markedly different from the world my kids were growing up in. Their life was no less rich, but their generation faced new challenges and moved at a faster pace.
As my children read – and like stories – I decided on a whim to write down a few old stories. They ranged from growing up in the woods, bumping into moose, and ice fishing, to short sketches about World War II veterans I admired, and who – being honest – shaped me.
A “few” grew into a dozen, then two dozen, then 45, until I stopped. I never meant to write 45 stories, and if you had asked if I had them in me, I would have forthrightly said no. But there they were, as one led to the next, memories triggering memories, until I had a little book.
I know, I know. You will be uttering words I once uttered. “I have no time for this.” “I can hardly remember breakfast, let alone a good story.” “If I remember one or two, that will be it.” All untrue. The curious thing is that, once you jot a few thoughts out, you have a paragraph, then a story.
Funnier still, once you get a story down, see how easy it really is – easier if you record it – you suddenly remember another, then another, and before long you are on a sliding board, sledding down an icy hill, on your way!
Why is this? The answer – scientifically – is that we like stories; we actually like to hear and to tell them, even if we think we have nothing to tell or cannot tell one. Actually, we all can.
The science of it is that stories – heard and told – make us happy, triggering dopamine and oxytocin. The first creates pleasure and the second a kind of trust-building or bonding. Moreover, there is a “neural coupling” that attaches between storyteller and listener, and a joy in recalling.
But there is more. By telling a story, we pass it along; writing it down, we make it permanent, re-readable, however inexact – and stories are naturally inexact, about feelings, people, places, times. More than this, we tie the past to the present, informing and shaping both the now and later.
Neuroscience says that remembering, retelling stories, jotting them down, or recording and rechecking them for others is actually the kind of mental exercise that keeps us sharp, too. Storytelling lights up the prefrontal cortex (executive function), hippocampus (other memories), limbic system (emotional connection), and motor cortex (a prompt to actions).
In short, stories are wonderful for the listener, for building connections with others, and for sharpening our own thoughts, while triggering within us good responses. As we tell stories, we explore feelings, people, places, and times – stored up and seldom accessed.
Broadly, whether you think so or not, we have all lived full lives, one way or the other, which are recalled in stories, as that is how we best retain life; we like connectivity, remember episodes, relate people with places, smells, senses, and conversely tend to forget statistics, numbers.
The broad benefit of stopping, even after you finish this column, and just telling a story to yourself or someone else is that inner connections are refreshed, outer connections built, memories triggered by memories, enlivening the brain’s neural functions. We quest, quest more, and learn anew.
So-called “life stories” – things lived by you, of any nature, are the strongest prompts for reaffirming facts, identity, perspective, and the “what you are” from the “where you have been.” Perhaps best of all, storytelling tends – for whatever reason – to create resilience, strength of mind, and problem-solving.
So, putting this together, stories – reading them, recalling, and writing them – are the stuff of which life is made. Stories give both the teller and listener upsides. Try reading a few, jotting down the basics, then writing them up. You will be wildly surprised how fun it is, and others will love the idea.
Perhaps that is why, after writing my first book of stories (“Eagles and Evergreens,” 2018), I ended up telling a second set of stories (“Cherish America”, 2024). My thought for you today: Put aside your doubts and excuses; just jot a simple story down. Then watch … what happens next.
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What does this stir in you?