About this episode
For weekly story playshops go on here: https://storypaths.substack.com/p/9bdd1000-4d0d-4c15-ba88-a5ae692cea40 I'm writing this and reading this while I'm sitting by the ocean, and it feels a funny thing to talk about history here because it is, of course, such a human idea. Personal history is the story of my past, of my life. It could be the history of my ancestors, their journeys that led to me being here today. It could be the history of women obtaining the right to vote. So already we see that the kind of story we get from the past depends on which part of the past we are inquiring into, and also who is doing the inquiring. I've heard it said, and it's true, that this word history can also be read as his-story. And I've heard it said, and it's true, that the past-telling that we hear these in schools and popular media is a male-dominated view of the past, focused in particular on generals and politicians, the focal points of certain kinds of power. This is one view of history. Not one I mean to discount, but let’s inquire into other views, for the stories we tell define us, and we define the stories we tell, so it's important to choose those stories carefully, and to have a wide sampling of stories, a rich microbiome of the past to inform our understandings of the present. Let's look at the etymology of this word, history. The Greek word historia originally meant inquiry: the act of seeking knowledge, as well as the knowledge that results from inquiry. So you can see that this word originally wasn't about linking events together into a story of what happened, a story of the past, but was simply about seeking knowledge. History is inquiry. We might also use this word history as a verb: to history. The story that emerges depends on the seeker, their manner of approach, as well as that which they are approaching. The past is a vast place, and many stories can be found within its landscapes. We know this from our own lives. Have you ever had a huge shift of perspective? Perhaps there was a moment when you came to see your mother or your father in a new light, a light that re-explained so many things that they had done and said. Have you ever re-looked at a pile of mistakes you made, not as indications of you being a bad person, but as indications that you were crying out for something you needed, or in the midst of learning something that you've now learned? Our view of the past can be a very flexible thing. So when you're thinking about writing some history—for your character, for yourself, or for a culture—a good starting point is to ask yourself… what your starting point is. From whose perspective are you inquiring? I'm sitting here by the ocean and thinking, what might history look like from the perspective of the ocean? A history of new creatures coming in and swimming around her waters. A history of changing temperatures, changing chemistry, of cooling and warming, of cooling and warming again. Of large parts of her becoming ice, then thawing, then freezing again. Going back further, a history of that water shooting through outer space from a star. And somewhere near the end of this history, coming toward the present moment, we humans emerge as characters stepping from her waters onto the land, with our women carrying a little of that salt water sanctuary within their wombs. From the ocean's perspective, we humans are not central, and I find it refreshing to consider a history in which we humans are not central. It might also be interesting to look through the eyes of a creature who has lived through these great changes, like species of sharks who have continued for millions of years. And rather than look through the eyes of a single individual, to look through the eyes of the species as a whole, taken as a single being, moving through time. How might this being experience these coolings and warmings, as their habitat shifts, and they encounter other species for the first time? How might a cold weather bird who lived through the Ice Age experienced the dwindling of those cold regions, as the earth warmed? And so there are many histories, and even among human histories, it's refreshing to step outside of those commonly told. I was visiting a site on Southern Vancouver Island, where petroglyphs have been carved into the rocks by the inhabitants of that land many ages ago. There was a sign there for the public, describing some of the markings. There on the sign, it said, ‘These were carved in pre-history.’ And somebody, bless their soul, had gone ahead and scratched out the prefix ‘pre.’ In other words, who’s saying it's pre-history? That marker is often between textually illiterate and textually literate, but why set the marker there? It shows the biases of a textually literate culture, which may not be as literate in other ways as cultures who are not textually literate. These older cultures may be literate in mythical language, in reading seasons, in animistic relationship with stars. Their history is not a collection of events one after another, like connecting the dots. Theirs is a history of relationship with the beings and great powers of the world, and it need not be linear. The connected-dots version of history speaks of a linear view of time.They say history is written by the victors, but really, that's just a certain history. And some histories are not written at all. We often find ourselves in an uncomfortable relationship with history. It may be that the history we're handed is not the way we would tell the story, that it does not include the people we think are important. There may be events that are presented as wonderful, lit by the best studio lighting, which, when that lighting is taken away, are revealed to be horrendous. Take the setting sail of Columbus for the New World. As it's framed, a young, adventurous boy, curious to see the world, set out and found a new land. That's some studio lighting and makeup for you. A more barefaced account reveals Columbus as a sociopath, obsessed with gold, and willing to destroy entire people in order to get it. From the perspective of the Taino people, he came to their shores not as a youthful adventure, but as a vicious plague. We find ourselves in a time of competing histories, and perhaps all times are such. It's up to each of us, and us together, to consider our relationship with the past. Whose eyes are we looking through? Oppressor, oppressed, creature, land, ocean, sky, a star shining on our planet. Which histories are you called to tell? Here are some prompts. Explore viewing your life from different angles, moving your perspective from the usual one to look at the same events in different ways. Try considering the view of another person involved in a contentious part of your life, or the perspective of the house you lived in at the time, or a nearby tree, or a stone. Recently, I returned to the school that I attended up until about the age of eleven. I sat on a bench near the trees that had watched me play as a kid. I felt them wondering what I'd been up to in the meantime. They hadn't seen me for many years, after all, and I’d been on some adventures. They were curious about other trees in other parts of the world, about streams in those places, about rainfall. They had never seen the ocean, so they wanted to know about that. Consider your life from the perspective of a tree that was born before you were, and that you’ve seen throughout your life journey. You might consider your whole family from the perspective of the lands that they moved from, or the lands where they arrived, from the people they left behind, or the people they met. A business story prompt Trace the history of your business to back before modern times. Now, you might be involved in something that seems very modern, very recent. Here I am typing on this fancy computer, a modern device that didn't exist fifty years ago, but its roots were there. What are its roots? Look at your business and consider the roots. For example, now we might look at the experience that a person has on our website, moving around this digital space. This has its roots in architecture and space design, in creating spaces that are ergonomic, and designed for particular uses. We send emails. Previously, that were telegrams, or letters. When the U.S. Postal Service first came into operation, people delivered letters between towns on horseback. A coliseum is a predecessor to social media, where many people gather in a huge crowd, and everyone can see everyone else. And here I am, creating a podcast. This has its roots in oral storytelling, and in people standing up and sharing their point of view in town squares. What are the roots of what you do? You may find that this inquiry helps you to redefine your relationship with your work, and the tools of your work, in a holistic way. And so here we are, resting in a warm cabin after our journey together. You can take this time to consider what's alive in you after hearing this talk and to reflect on the story prompts. Now these prompts are not homework but possibilities. You might respond by journaling, by speaking about them with a friend or colleague, or speaking about them with yourself while you're walking or driving. You might push back against these prompts or come up with better ones. You can share your thoughts in the comments on Substack. Or even better, let’s explore these prompts together. I'm hosting weekly gatherings where we play with stories for an hour. That's included for premium subscribers at just $5 a month. Or you might just want to let this all go, and roll along with whatever pleases you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit storypaths.substack.com/subscribe