Storytellers

Stories are lies. As Tim O'Brien wrote in The Things They Carried, true stories are lies also. And moreso.

That's because story telling is lying, even if the story is true. Ultimately, it boils down to the truth that story tellers are liars. Unpack that one.

The story teller looks you in the eyes and bares his soul. He makes you feel that he is speaking only to you, yes, YOU, and when he turns his back and walks towards someone else, you are convinced he is still thinking of you. He has you wrapped up and rapt, the balance and flow of his words moves you in a way that has you held fast.

He is at once a child -- a voice innocent, walking into the world for the first time, seeing it as you do, fresh and adventurous and fearful, and still the sage, with the wisdom of experience and the experience of wisdom, comforting you that the world goes on. He reminds you that the whole world is a story, a lie, a blanket and he suffers it and celebrates it with you.

The story teller spins a tale when there is no one there to hear it because the story must be told and the lie waits for no audience. The story teller needs to tell his story more than he needs anyone to hear it so he finds his medium wherever it lies.

More important than the look in the eye of a listener is the setting free of a story to breathe on its own. So the story teller speaks to the void because with his stories he is never alone until he is.

To know that every moment is a story for tomorrow and that each second is a first step forth, the story teller collects and arranges and breathes feelings into narrative. Where there was only life, now there is soul. 

He measures words understanding that the life of a lie hangs in the balance of each phrase. He risks losing the ears and hearts so each syllable has to be considered and each pause, an effect.

But later, when all is quiet and the story has ended, the story teller is empty. His story is no longer his and he belongs to no one. He is the lie of his story. When that story becomes the province of the world he finds a life in having given himself over and his lie, shared with all, has the chance to define a new truth for them to tell to others.

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Inspirations

The Things They Carried

A word is dead

Constantly risking absurdity

Julius Caesar

Another random Torah Thought

 This is an extension of something I wrote almost 8 years ago here.

The shabbat morning amida begins its central section with the phrase yismach Moshe b'matnat chelko. Moses was happy with his portion. The nest phrase is "ki eved ne'eman karata lo" because (or when) you called him a loyal servant.

That seems strange to me -- the wording is flowery and its biblical reference isn't clear. But then I remembered what Ben Zoma is quoted as saying in Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers 4:1 "אֵיזֶהוּ עָשִׁיר, הַשָּׂמֵחַ בְּחֶלְקוֹ" Eizeh hu ashir? Hasame'ach b'chelko. Who is rich? He who is happy with his portion.

The wording in the prayer isn't random - it is a specific call back to this definition. Moshe, who knew he would not enter the land of K'na'an, who would be buried in a secret grave, who would hand over the priesthood to his brother, be insulted by his sister and would have people challenge him at every turn still was satisfied with his role and his portion in life. He typifies this incredible wealth through happiness. Even when an entire nation challenges you, if you have faith that this is the portion you are supposed to have, you attain richness. But beyond that, Moshe didn't do one specific thing. He never asked "what's in it for me?"

The Ethics also have a statement (1:3) from Antignos from Socho (who heard it from Shimon the Righteous): "do not be like servants who serve the master in the expectation of receiving a reward, but be like servants who serve the master without the expectation of receiving a reward". What portion is the most coveted, the one that Moshe seemed to crave? To be a loyal servant (hence the "because" connecting the two phrases in prayer). And how could he be that? By not asking for personal reward as a condition, or even an expectation of his service to Hashem.

Moshe was humble but he knew a serene level of joy, a transcendent understanding of his place and the true value of service. By celebrating the sabbath not in terms of what it can give us, but in terms of how we can serve God through it, we can emulate Moshe's selflessness and maybe get a fraction of his happiness and "wealth."