It can depend on the sun and the clouds, the direction of the rays and the time of the day, or years in the case of the memories, and also the wind: deforming fast when the water moves or the emotions rise.
A neighbour asked me last week if I tell to truth, really, or invent and lie.
No, I do not lie, neither tell the "whole truth: - in fact, it is an emotional truth, depending of what I want to make come accross, and the change fro; "real' life to story in deciding what to leave out.
Our life is so complex, it can not be put 'all' in a few minutes, or even an hour, any event is more then a story and at the same time, we can take from any event what we feel it needs and shape it into a story.
In many different stories, in fact, from the same event, depending what we put in and what we leave out and how we shape it and the inflection of our voice and our contact to the listeners.
That is also the strength and marvel of Storytelling. Always fluid and never static, never frozen, as a pond could be in winter or our texts on a paper.
Lately, I do not write down.
Yesterday, I was happy about the way I told two of three of my last stories that have to go together soon, and put a 'new face" on it. By adding some photos more appropriate perhaps, the story changed. The words behind them are the same, yet, already seem different.
Life is never ending and what lead to a situation and what resulted can take years, in a story it has to be finished somewhere, in a place satisfying first the listener then the storyteller.
It is 'true' I met my third man, a professor from America, the night in Paris when later, I remained with him, but in my story I do not tell, in this one at least, that after thet I dreamed for a year about him, and finally, we did meet for a wonderful New York week, before parting for ever. Or almost. We did write each other, for long time after our first meeting. So it was a fast coming together perhaps, but not an 'one night stand' as the story tells, but the story does stop there.
My aim with that story is to show there are not two different type oft women, the Madonna and the Whore but we are all Human.
Also, again coming back to the memories, our recollection of what happened changes with time, but most importantly, as we shape an event or chain of events in a story to be told, we come to peace with what happened and understand it more and more.
They are so many gray areas that the story can convey, not only black and white, lie or truth. As there are many reflections in a pond.
No comments:
Post a Comment