The Healing Nature of Telling Others’ Stories
How learning to see the world through other’s eyes and hearts can open ours
Many have watched the Netflix viral sensation, My Octopus Teacher. The film’s narrator and co-star Craig Foster ponders that in a time of growing separation from nature, the film has triggered a fundamental human longing to reconnect with our origins. “Just under the skin, we are still fully wild. And I think this touches on what it’s like to glimpse that [our wildness].”
The visually beautiful and moving film provokes a fundamental human longing to reconnect with one another. Foster’s contact with the water and total immersion amongst all the other elements reminds us of what we are missing in our separation from nature, travel and other people.
The threat from the Covid-19 virus has physically separated all of us, from friends, from families, and from communities. Our yearning or need to connect is even more prevalent as the social fabric of our country has unraveled. Political differences have been produced by our leaders and perpetuated by us. We are pulling ourselves apart along political lines, but more importantly the delicate, time-woven composition of our most cherished connections are being cut in two right now. Marriages, families, lifelong friendships, faith communities and social circles that survived previous assaults from within and from the outside — are being challenged. Our common stories have been disrupted.
My Octopus Teacher, a story of the relationship between a human and a sea creature, gave me a new appreciation for how the alchemy of storytelling can change the storyteller. When both parties are openly vulnerable this is particularly true. As a storyteller, I had not deeply contemplated the positive and profound effect capturing stories has had on me.
The octopus and Foster reminded me of this favorite, anonymous quote: “The goal is not to change your subjects, but for the subject to change the photographer.”
I set out on my first intentional photography trip in December of 2007. I had travelled extensively, however, I had mostly seen the world through windows of cars, hotels or meeting rooms. For this trip to India, I purchased my first interchangeable lens camera in over twenty-five years. I had no plan or theme for what I was going to photograph.
The first morning in New Delhi, by happenstance I met a remarkable woman at a busy city-center intersection. We spent ten magical minutes speaking through an interpreter. My reward for listening was this striking and very open portrait. She allowed me in to tell her story.
This woman taught me about myself. She ignited a desire in me to connect with others through photos and stories. My capacity to see others, really look for them and ultimately recount the stories they carry started with that empathetic encounter.
I discovered how to re-write my own story by telling others’ stories.
Yet, my new camera was just a tool, just an excuse to approach strangers. The result of my meeting this woman on the street was a transformational conversation and connection never forgotten. We shared love and concern for our children, life’s routines and the mutual emotions of worry, excitement, hope and fear. The commonalities are what I remember. The image only reminds me of our cultural and physical differences.
I have travelled the world and met, recorded and published the stories of thousands of people since that encounter fourteen years ago. Excluding fatherhood, nothing has had such a profound effect on me. I learned to listen and opened my heart and soul to empathy and compassion, qualities I had, but was not practicing daily. Approaching people and being met with open narratives has changed my sense of self. Being entrusted to tell these stories has changed my worldview.
One need not be a photographer or journalist to listen well enough to tell a good story about someone else or learn truths contained within our common humanity. We are all innate storytellers, and perhaps the divide we are suffering can be bridged by how we approach one another; particularly those who are perceived as different from us. How do we pursue curiosity while creating safe spaces for others to tell their stories?
People who view or hear those stories can also benefit. I smiled when I realized a concrete example of this happened to me the other day.
I sometimes post what I believe is thought-provoking content on Facebook. Careful to be respectful, I never personalize my public thoughts or opinions. In our hyper-charged political environment, some take exception to my postings. I am fortunate that most discussions on my feed, or those I participate in are fairly respectful. Over time, the Facebook algorithm serves a lot of “content-of-opposites.” I often see posts I don’t agree with and I believe those who create those posts see mine. Lively discussions further feed this algorithm.
This month, some London colleagues unbeknownst to me posted one of my videos, “Stories behind the Photographs.” They tagged me and my platform, Republic of Humanity. When I checked my feed, dozens who regularly disagree with my posts had not only “liked” the video content, but they had tagged friends and family to watch. It seems we share a common position after all — our shared humanity.
Content that accentuates and inspires our shared humanity is something polar political opposites can agree upon and do.
We must stay curious and try to meet on those busy intersections provided to us during this challenging time, and share love and concern for our children, life’s daily routines, worry, excitement and fear.
As we move to heal the deep divides in our country, my hope is that we look with compassion, and civil curiosity to those trying to tell their story too.
