Getting in the Way - The Wish
I tell stories about the children I have helped raise. I use descriptions. I give them titles and labels as if these things are true and I know who they are. I can get stuck in those stories. But what is so powerful about being a storyteller is that I am given the regular opportunity to step out of the stories I tell and see them as that: stories. This then gives me the opportunity to become curious. This is the real message here: the most powerful storytelling and parenting tool I have is curiosity. When I can become curious, I leave a knowing space and enter one of wonder. When I am curious, things don’t feel so fixed. They feel incredibly dynamic and … quite honestly, a lot more fun. Parenting … becomes more fun.
This episode is about the ways we parents get in the way of our children - in particular, the way we tend to describe and label them. We have a tendency to want to fix their story. I have done this with each of my kids— I have decided my kid was this way or that way, and then they show me that my labeling is not helping. “The Wish” is about how we make wishes for our children— how we want them to be happy, to not struggle, to find best friends, to find love, to be appreciated, to be encouraged and respected. We wish for these things, and sometimes, this can be a way of getting in their way.
[00:06] Audio Story snippet
[01:07] Introduction
[07:34] Information on our free minicourses including “How to Tell the Perfect Bedtime Story” and our Pocket Camps for Kids
[08:59] Audio Story - The Wish
Getting in the Way - The Wish
Full transcript
Their daughter was indeed full of vigor and vim and a lover of life - but they began to hope that she might calm as she got older - temper her enthusiasm and be more like other children in the town.
But this was not so. With every passing day Adri only seemed to be more bold, more expressive, more enthusiastic and more lively. When she was sad, she wailed like a piglet. When she was angry she railed like a storm. When she was happy she laughed like a woodpecker and when she was fearful, she screamed like a screech owl. Quiet was not something Adri engaged in. Calm was not something she ever seemed to be. Stillness only happened briefly when deeply asleep - no, little Adri was admittedly a handful and truly exhausting to her parents…
Yes so this for sure a story about parenting. I have the privilege of co-parenting two sons - one, at the time of this recording, is a junior in college and the other is soon to graduate high school. I am also about to begin co-parenting a young woman as she enters high school - which is obviously a different experience. Different person, different experience. And I marvel. I just marvel at this very unique relationship I have - parenting. It’s bizarre really. It makes perfect sense when they are helpless - when they need a parent to eat and stay safe and all that - and now … it's like they need me but they need me now … to not get in their way.
I mean - I love my kids, they love me - we are good. It's healthy I should say. And … I’m in their way. And part of me feels like this is part of my job as a parent - to provide friction, to slow them down, to speed them up - to influence them … almost like a chemist. But when I step back - I can see the perfect mosaic of my stories tangling with their own developing story and … it's like how mycelium in a forest is described. We are all totally connected and yet - we’re also individual mushrooms… hmmm - this is getting more esoteric than I intended, in part because this relationship is so hard to describe - parenting - so hard for me to concretely name.
But … one thing I can say is that I am more aware than ever before what is not helpful. Those things I think we can see. And we see them - as parents, yes - but all of us do this - we see them after we have crossed the line. We see the stuff we aren’t supposed to do after we have actually done it. Or at least that’s how it works with me. I know what not to do after I do it. So it becomes more like - I know what not to do again.
And labeling my children is one of those things. Trying to fix their story. I have done this loads of times. I have decided my kid was this way and then they show me that they - like me - contain multitudes and my labeling is not actually helping. My deciding that they are a certain way - that they like this, they like that. And this story you are about to listen to is about this. We make wishes for our children. We want them to be happy, to not struggle, to find best friends, to find love, to be appreciated, to be encouraged and respected. We wish for these things. Or at least I do. And, this can be a way of getting in their way.
I need to say that I don’t actually know what I’m talking about - this is storytelling and it's not a specific sort of thing, but here’s what I can say that has been consistent in how my storytelling affects my parenting. I tell stories about the children I have helped raise. I use descriptions. I give them titles and labels as if these things are just true. As if I know who they are. And I can get stuck in those stories. What is so powerful about being a storyteller is that as I practice storytelling skills, I am given the regular opportunity to step out of the stories I tell and see them as that - stories. And then I can become curious. This is the real message here - the storytelling tool that I have found so useful - curiosity. When I can become curious, I leave a knowing space and enter into one of wonder. One of marvel. And things don’t feel fixed here - they feel incredibly dynamic and … quite honestly, it’s a lot more fun. Parenting … becomes more fun. For me.
So as you listen to this story, see where you relate - either as a parent or as a child - or both or neither … and see how you can use storytelling in a similar way. To step out of the story long enough to marvel. To become curious about these children. To intentionally wonder at them. And then watch these remarkable beings branch out and transform before you…
Quick note before the story that we have some storytelling tools you might want, available over at howtostory.org. Some free minicourses that might be helpful for your parenting, like the “How to tell the perfect bedtime story” that is huge. Really huge - I really recommend you do that one. And there are storytelling pocket camps over there - inexpensive storytelling courses or camps that you can take with you on vacations. Video instruction with a lovely workbook - people love these pocket camps and they are for your kids. All these things along with a story-listening course for you adults can be found at howtostory.org.
And I hope you enjoy and are inspired by this story. It's called The Wish.
Enjoy.
Stories from the Well - Story One, The Wish
Once upon a time a tailor and his wife wished for a child. They wished and wished and tried and tried but alas no child came to their home. They were hard working, fair minded and solid citizens, so they were confused as to why a child would not want to come live with them and have the tailor and his wife as parents. It hurt them both to wonder why.
So the tailor did what he knew to do: he worked harder. He spent more hours diligently stitching and measuring and aspiring to be the best tailor the town had ever had. It did not make him feel better, but it helped him keep his wondering in check.
The tailor’s wife, however, did not have this luxury. She busied herself about the yard and garden but everything she touched reminded her that there was no child in their home - no child to care for, no child to feed, no child to protect - and finally, she had enough, and chose to consult with the well.
This was considered a superstition in their town, only really employed during times of desperation or delusion - not like going to church or consulting with a doctor. Going to the well was seen as something people do when they have no other options and are willing to entertain the impossible. The tailor’s wife, it would seem, had reached that point.
Without telling her husband, she set out to the country. She walked the several miles past the barley fields and the apple trees and the sheep pasture and a long pine grove until she came to the path that would lead her to the well. She had never been to the well before. She knew of its location from stories told among the women of the town. She had heard of men and women who came to the well and the strange events that followed. Wishes were generally granted, but seldom in the way they were intended.
Miriam the hat maker had a son who went to war. She wished for his safety and it was granted, but he chose to stay in the foreign land in which he fought. Miriam had imagined his return home but that was not her wish. He was safe, that was what she had asked for.
Judith the tanner’s wife wished that her life didn’t involve such horrible smells. Feces and urine were used to tan hides and her husband came home from his work smelling like a sewer - it was terrible. But when she wished for the smells to be removed, it seemed the well granted the wish by removing her husband. He fell in love with someone else and someone else fell in love with him. They left town and that was that - now Judith needed to make her own living collecting quail eggs from the meadow.
Veronika, a cleaning woman, wished for a child and received one - but the child was sickly and needed daily attention. This made work challenging so the child often accompanied her. She was grateful for her child but exhausted.
So the tailor’s wife, whose name was Linda, knew to be specific in her wish - she would wish not only for a child, but a healthy robust child filled with vigor and vim - one that loved life and would meet each day with eyes wide and heart open.
She came to the well - it was indeed exactly where the stories described. She did what the others said, she pulled on the rope and pulled up a bucket that was brimming with fresh clean well water. She pulled the bucket close and balanced it on the stone rim of the well - then she spoke her wish into the crystalline water.
“We wish for a child. Give us a child - a baby boy or girl - we don’t care which. But a child full of life - a healthy child that will love life with a full heart.”
And that was that. She took a drink, poured the wish laden water back into the well and then lowered the bucket back down for the next person. Linda stood by the well for a few minutes more - hoping she had worded her wish well - nervous that perhaps she should have said more. BUt then she took a deep breath in, turned and began her walk back home.
A year later she and the tailor had a child - a baby girl - and the moment the baby breathed her first breath she screamed with the vigor and vim Linda wished for. She and her husband laughed and rejoiced in how accurately they had received her wish. They were filled with gratitude and were so very happy.
As their child grew, her vigor for life only seemed to increase - she was curious about everything, wanted to touch everything and when anything was denied - often for safety reasons - she screamed with upset. At first this was appreciated by Linda and her husband, but in time the screaming happened a little too often and was always a little too loud. But they knew that toddlers could be this way, they only needed to be patient.
When the child, who they named Adri, after the water, was old enough to talk, she tried every new word as a yell - with full enthusiasm like she was celebrating the ability to speak whenever she opened her mouth. Linda and her husband had to admit that their daughter was indeed full of vigor and vim and a lover of life - but they began to hope that she might calm as she got older - temper her enthusiasm and be more like other children in the town.
But this was not so. With every passing day Adri only seemed to be more bold, more expressive, more enthusiastic and more lively. When she was sad, she wailed like a piglet. When she was angry she railed like a storm. When she was happy she laughed like a woodpecker and when she was fearful, she screamed like a screech owl. Quiet was not something Adri engaged in. Calm was not something she ever seemed to be. Stillness only happened briefly when deeply asleep - no, little Adri was admittedly a handful and truly exhausting to her parents.
Finally, when the two of them were at their wit’s end and Linda couldn’t take another tantrum or crying spell or high pitched squeal, even if it was for joy - she resolved to return to the well. In her desperation, she reasoned that the well created their daughter with this dramatic enthusiasm and strong emotion - perhaps the well could temper it a bit. Just a bit - just enough to provide spans of quiet and stillness where Linda could rest. Just for a little bit.
So she took the same journey past the barley fields and the apple trees and the sheep pasture and a long pine grove until she came to the path that would lead her to the well. She rehearsed what she would say - that she didn’t want her child to diminish her love of life and her vim and vigor, but that she wanted Adri to also have spans of peace and quiet - short spells of rest, where everyone could rest - everyone around her - especially her parents. She figured that the wish was not taking anything away - it was adding something new - something that would benefit their daughter as well as themselves.
When she came to the spot where she offered her first wish, however, she now stood before a house. It was an old house and it stood on the exact spot of the well. This was confusing to say the least. It would be one thing to see a newly built home - but this looked old, like it had been there for hundreds of years, let alone the five years it had been since she was last there.
“Yes?” asked an old man who was sitting on the porch. She jumped as she had not seen him. “Sorry ma'am” added the man, “Didn’t mean to startle you but I wasn’t expecting any company. Anything I can help you with?”
Linda looked at the man and then the house and frowned, “I apologize for bothering you…” she said dreamily, ‘But … is … was … there a well here? A stone well?”
“Oh the wishing well?” asked the man with a sparkle in his eye
“Yes,” said Linda hopefully.
“It's been a while since someone’s been by. No there’s no well here. Might have been one here when my grandfather built this place - there were stories about a well that granted wishes but … no, I get my water from the creek out back. Spring fed. Delicious. You could probably use a glass of water. I’ll get you one.”
She was going to say no, that she was fine - but the truth was, she was indeed quite thirsty. Plus she was confused and a little frightened - where was the well - she was sure it was the right place. The trees all looked familiar to her and the area felt like it had five years ago when she first came. But now she was wondering to herself … had she come? Did that even happen? Was it possible she dreamed the well and the wish?
“Here you go,” the man said as he handed her a glass of crystal clear water, “If you came all the way from town then you have to be thirsty.”
She was. She blinked a few times before gratefully taking the glass - and the moment the water touched her lips, she was transported back five years to the well, only this time the old man from the house was standing next to the well listening to her wish. She heard herself say, “We wish for a child. Give us a child - a baby boy or girl - we don’t care which. But a child full of life - a healthy child that will love life with a full heart.”
Then she watched as she held the bucket, ready to take a drink - but this time, the man spoke. He said, “There is no well, no water that will grant you any wish - you must know this. But there is a wish - and a wish is a story we choose to believe. You’ve done this for five years. Do you wish to believe something new? Are you looking for a new story?”
Linda looked at the man and saw his water blue eyes and realized that she was not looking at the man anymore - but a woman. The woman was familiar. She was older than Linda but not as old as the man from the house. The woman had long curly hair much like her daughter Adri - and then Linda realized … the woman WAS Adri. It was her daughter, but all grown up.
“I’ve enjoyed your stories” said the grown up Adri, “But know that I am myself regardless of how you wish to see me. As a child I can be seen as a healthy child loving life with a full heart - or as a difficult child who goes too far, is too loud and is too much to handle. Now that I’m grown it is the same. I can still be seen as loving life or being too much or too dramatic or simply happy. A happy person unafraid of her feelings. There are people who tell stories about me that way. But I am myself either way.”
Then Linda felt tears flood her eyes and the moment she moved to wipe them from her cheeks she felt water on her feet and cool wet chill woke her from her revery to see that she had spilled the glass of water.
“Oh my,” she said.
“It's no worry,” said the old man, “Plenty where that came from. Would you like to sit and rest a moment?”
“No thank you” said Linda softly as she looked into the man’s blue eyes again, “I think I … got what I need. Thank you.”
The man shrugged slightly and then said, “Well, sometimes just a sip of water does the trick. I’m glad it helped.”
Then Linda saw something happen in the man’s eyes - it was like the surface of a lake when the sun sparkles and wind momentarily obscures the reflection. It was a magical moment that seemed to contain many different pictures - different stories - different wishes … and she got the feeling that she could choose whichever one she wanted.
“Goodbye,” said Linda sweetly.
The old man tipped his head slightly in response and then Linda turned and began to walk back to town. And as she walked she carried with her all the wishes she held for her daughter - she considered all the hopes and dreams that she brought with her and told herself were true. And it wasn’t that they weren’t true. They were stories - but they weren’t the only stories that could be told about her daughter. Her daughter was herself - no matter what stories she, her mother, chose to tell about her. And for reasons that were unclear, this changed everything. Linda felt lighter and more free than she had in years. Her daughter was herself, she kept saying to herself. Herself.
And the closer she got to town, the more she looked forward to seeing Adri - to be able to move through all those stories she put on her daughter - all the hopes and dreams and wishes - and she looked forward to just seeing her … as herself.
The How to Story theme music was produced by Javon Phelps. The story music was by Angus Sewell McCann, the story was edited by co-teacher over at How to Story, Meredith Markow. And the How to Story Podcast is produced by me, David Sewell McCann, and Marjorie Shik.
We hope to hear from you and we'll catch you next week.
