What is an Apocalypse? - Stories from Horsemen
This is a story from another podcast we created for adults called Horsemen which is about the Apocalypse or “unveiling”, which began on August 23, 2017. This was super fun to create and a very interesting series of stories that belongs on this podcast because it is about how stories can be misused to manipulate people. The narrative centers around a storyteller who becomes a researcher who then creates a clinic where stories can heal people with real diseases and terminal conditions. The reason why this person could be considered a “bad guy” is because he practices a dangerous kind of storytelling - the kind where the storyteller doesn’t listen. Really listen. He is the kind of storyteller that only hears what he wants to hear and then creates powerful stories that deepen that reality and don’t make room for anything else.
This might sound familiar because we know these storytellers. We buy their products and sometimes we vote for them. And we can see that they have used this power to acquire more power, and riches, and influence, and the ability to narrow the common view of what is true and real. They don’t listen.
This is an allegory about the imbalance that can come when a storyteller doesn’t use story-listening. That is the pedagogical key to why this is included in this podcast - the importance of both storytelling and story-listening. Because without story-listening, the world becomes a place of talking. Of opinions. Of the kind of storytelling that does not create beginnings. No, telling stories without listening creates ends. And it then requires an Apocalypse to show us the truth of what we let happen.
[00:06] Audio Story snippet
[01:06] Introduction and the true meaning of Apocalypse
[06:40] A little about our Pocket Camps for kids - which are not at all about the Apocalypse
[08:11] Audio Story - Horseman, Episode 1, The Beast
What is an Apocalypse? - Stories from Horsemen
Full transcript
Ray’s book posited that the narrative arc and archetypes of fairy tales followed the same path to a universal growth cycle as plants, animals, and people did. It claimed that fairy tales and myths could tell us where we came from, where we are—and where we’re going. It showed how the “hero’s journey”—a narrative pattern identified by Edward Taylor, Carl Jung, and Joseph Campbell—was specifically analogous to the growth cycle of anything from bacteria to maple trees to elephants to people. Ray’s book offered the idea that the general theory of everything—the theory that Albert Einstein and so many others had dedicated their lives to finding—was not found in math … but in story.
That provocative snippet there is from a series of stories I wrote and produced on a separate podcast called Horsemen. I wrote it while I was still producing several children’s stories a week because I needed an outlet. I needed an opportunity to explore all the chaos that was unfolding around me without … you know, scaring children, so I would take breaks from writing bedtime and fairy stories to … explore what felt like the coming end of the world.
Now, before you decide “No, I’m looking for positivity and relief from misery, I don’t want to face death and destruction right now”, worry not. This is not a story about that. Well, mostly it's not a story about that. Ok, so it's a little bit about that but that part is secondary to the true meaning of Apocalypse. The true meaning - definition - of Apocalypse is the unveiling. To remove the veil and see the truth. That is what apocalypse means - to reveal. This is why there’s the quote from Revelation at the beginning, not because I have any religious agenda. I used the quote because it comes from the book of apocalypse. The book of revelation. Plus it's a pretty extraordinary quote with provocative imagery. You’ll see in a little bit.
So why is this story in the How to Story podcast? What storytelling tip does it illustrate? I like the fairy stories and folk tales. Why am I now going to listen to a story about … well, you don’t know what it is going to be about yet, do you?
This story is about how storytelling is actually the fabric of our reality - that the world is indeed made of stories. So in this respect, it is a kind of creation story about how the world was made. It was storied.
And the crux of this Horsemen series is that if there is a “bad guy” in the narrative, it is a character named Raymond Anadar - who is, essentially, a storyteller. It's about a man who discovers the power - the real power - of storytelling and ultimately uses that power to trigger the end times. So yeah, that is the death and destruction part but that actually comes much later in the story. And it's not much, really - just enough to get the point across.
Anyway - this story is about a storyteller who becomes a researcher who then creates this clinic where stories can heal people, like - heal real diseases and terminal conditions. Doesn’t sound too bad so far - so why does this researcher become known as the Beast? Because he doesn’t listen. This is the dangerous kind of storytelling - the storyteller who doesn’t listen. Really listen. He is the kind of storyteller that only hears what he wants to hear and then creates powerful stories that deepen that reality and don’t make room for anything else. So maybe this is starting to sound familiar to you?
We know these storytellers. We buy their products and sometimes we vote for them. And we can see that they have used this power to acquire more power, and riches, and influence, and the ability to narrow the common view of what is true and real. They’ve changed reality but they aren’t listening.
And so, in short, this is an allegory about the imbalance that can come when a storyteller doesn’t use story-listening. Right there is the pedagogical key to why this is included in the podcast - the importance of both storytelling and story-listening. Because without story-listening, the world becomes a place of talking. Of opinions. Of the kind of storytelling that does not create beginnings. No, telling stories without listening creates ends. And it then requires an Apocalypse,an unveiling, to show us the truth of what we let happen.
Hey before you jump into the story because you are so curious or bail on this episode because it sounds like a downer (trust me it's not a downer - it's a really good story), I want to tell you about four storytelling camps you can get for your next family vacation. We are calling them “pocket” camps because they are totally portable and don’t require much of anything from you, our adult storytellers. You just purchase them - they are only $25 - and take them with you on that long car ride or save them for a rainy day at home. They have video instructions from me and Meredith, my teaching partner - and they are super fun and silly and informative and useful and not at all about the Apocalypse. You can find them on our website howtostory.org.
And in addition to the bright happy lights that are the storytelling pocket camps, I’ll whisper you a secret - you really are going to enjoy this story. It will get you thinking in a good way and then you can search for Horsemen podcast to listen to the rest.
Here is episode one of season one (yes there are two seasons so far). Enjoy.
Welcome to Horseman
Hello. This podcast, Horsemen, is a story series intended for a certain audience. Though the story series can certainly be enjoyed by all, the intended listeners are those aligned with the four Horsemen types. 9.8% of the world’s population will have markers for the White Horsemen Type. 7% for Red Horsemen Type, 2% for Black Horsemen and 1% for Pale Horsemen Type.
.03% of the population, those whom we call the “carriers of the pearl”, are equally aligned with all four types. It is our primary intention with this podcast to find those of you who are carriers of the pearl … and wake you up.
The Unveiling has begun and we will need the carriers of the pearl … very soon.
If you suspect you might be one of the four Horsemen Types or perhaps a carrier of the pearl, please take note of the indicators, answer the questions offered following episode five—and if, after listening to episode ten, you believe these stories are truly for you, you will be contacted.
For those of you who do not identify – we hope you enjoy the stories! A word of warning, however, that the content you are about to hear may not be suitable to sensitive or younger listeners.
Episode One: The Beast
“And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.”
The Book of Revelation, Chapter 13, Verse 1
On August 23, 2017, the End Times, as described in several New Testament Books and chapters of the Hebrew Bible—and as predicted by Nostradamus, Charlie Berlitz, Hon Ming Chen and the Amazing Criswell—officially began. Most people did not know that the End Times or Great Tribulation had begun, because they did not experience any of the mass earthquakes, or widespread pestilence, or the world war, or the universal famine that the literature suggests. They did not note any of the dramatic signs that the prophets John or Daniel or Enoch or Elijah or Thomas wrote would take place.
But just because most people did not witness them, does not mean that they did not begin to unfold.
The truth is, a worldwide famine, an international pandemic, and a massive, all-encompassing war and death—so much death—all this did accelerate and take on new meaning on August 23rd, 2017. The remarkable thing is that only a few people really knew any of this was happening. In fact, only four people could fully witness these events, because they were, in a sense, the reason why it all began. Jonah MacInnes, Mindy Lamb, Noland Black-Horse and Edna Madsen—the notorious four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—met each other for the first time on that date. And the reason they found each other was the hard work and ambition of Dr. Raymond Anadar, the person that generations would later call the Great Deceiver, the False Prophet and - yes … the Beast of the Earth.
Ray Anadar stumbled across the seed of his life’s work when he was 21 years old, studying abroad in Munich. He was an art history major focusing on medieval and renaissance art when he came face to face with a 15th century painting called Saint Wolfgang and the Devil. It is a painting of a bishop in his red robes and tall hat in seeming negotiation with a green, alien-like creature with insect legs and big eyes. Ray was familiar with the painting—he had studied it before, and was impressed by how creepy and detailed the creature looked. But in this moment, standing in front of it, what kept his attention … was the color. The Devil was green. Green, not red, as most devils were depicted. He looked at the Devil and used his imagination to turn it red, to see if it was more appropriate as a red devil. And he had to admit that green seemed right. Green seemed, at least in this image, to be more … evil.
This was a moment of clarity and transformation for Ray. Something deep inside him said Yes, this was important, this was what he needed to pursue: like when a detective discovers a certain curious clue or an explorer smells something promising in the wind.
There in Munich, he looked further into the color green in paintings. He found a few more 15th and 16th century paintings that used green as the color for the devil or demons. But then he had his second revelation: green was the standard color of choice for early manuscript illustrations of the Devil—and in 19th century children’s books in particular. Ray found some very old copies of Grimm’s Fairy Tales and saw many ‘green men’ or men wearing green illustrated in the stories. While in Munich, he focused on bettering his German so that he could read the fairy tales, and he was delighted to pull out a consistent theme: over and over, green was the color that represented the devil—or at least the diabolical characters in the story. The “man in the green cloak” was generally behind any deceits or prideful manipulations.
This discovery changed the course of his studies. He now wanted to learn as much as he could about color theory and how it manifested in literature and cultural symbols. When his teachers and mentors asked why he was so interested, he didn’t have a clear answer. “I can feel that it is important” he confided in trusted friends and colleagues. “There‘s something there. It’s like these old stories and pictures are trying to tell me something about who I am—about who we all are.”
He went to graduate school. He received his doctorate in semiotics in Stockholm, Norway, and focused his study on the symbols in fairy tales and myths. He worked closely with Nils Larson, an expert in northern European mythology and folktales and became his lead researcher.
On his own, Raymond looked at the metaphorical dynamics of green and red, and found that red was most often representative of the truth and green was the covering-up, the hiding of the red. This was not only the case in literature but in nature as well. For example, green chlorophyll covers over the natural color of the leaf. Red and yellow and orange are the true colors of tree leaves. But in the late spring, they’re overwhelmed with green chlorophyll, and the leaves appear green. It is not until autumn, the period when Nature prepares for death and the chlorophyll recedes, that the true colors are revealed again.
So from a narrative standpoint, Red represented the authentic and Green the deceit and trickery. Raymond discovered that this pattern held true not only in northern European folktales, but in all world myth and literature.
There was the Man in the Green cloak, featured in so many German fairy tales. There was Jack in the Green of England and his bogies who brought mayhem to May Day celebrations. There was The Green Knight who both fought and mentored Sir Gawain in the Arthurian Legend. Osiris, Egyptian God of the underworld, was green. Tlaloc the Aztec god of dangerous weather was green. T'ao t'ieh of China and Kirtimukha of India, both monsters of greed, are both green. He found green men and beasts in nearly every culture, and there was always an element of deceit in their characters. Yes, green also represented growth and healing—but the dynamic of truth and deceit was consistent. Ray knew he was onto an important discovery, something basic to mankind, and green and red were the key.
And that was when he first met Jonah MacInnes, the man who helped him turn his fringe theoretical work … into a worldwide movement with profound influence.
Jonah was in Sweden for a very different reason: entirely for fun. Fun was important to Jonah, and he had heard that the beaches of Sweden were nothing if not fun.
At this point in his life, Jonah was doing very well. His central New York media company, SALT Networks, was buying up other New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey TV and radio stations. His marriage to Libby MacInnes was still to all appearances stable, and as far as he was concerned, the two of them were now considering starting a family. Jonah had a lot of money and just as many ideas on how to make more.
The two men met at a bar—a place that was a common hangout for Jonah, but a very uncommon stop for Ray. Ray had only come into the Hard Rock Cafe because he had been working nonstop for three days and was now starving for an American-style hamburger. He was sitting at the bar at 11 in the morning when Jonah sidled up next to him and ordered a beer.
“American?” was the first thing he said to Ray.
“Uh, yes—how did you—”
“You’re eating the burger with your hands,” said Jonah with a smile.
‘How—“ Ray began, now embarrassed to be holding the huge hamburger in both hands.
“You’re eating it the right way,” said Jonah reassuringly. “Haven’t you noticed that Swedes eat theirs with a knife and fork? It’s … unsettling. I’m Jonah MacInnes. No need to shake.”
Ray looked at the burger in his ketchup-covered hands and nodded, “Ray Anadar.”
Jonah said “Tak” to the bartender who brought him his beer. The young man behind the bar smiled and replied, “You bet.”
“I guess everyone is American around here,” said Jonah with a chuckle. He turned back to Ray. “What brings you … to Sweden?” he asked. He took a long sip from his pint glass.
“I’m studying at the university,” said Ray, finishing his bite. “Doctorate”
“Oh yeah? What are you studying?” asked Jonah, raising his eyebrows.
“Semiotics,” said Ray with a nervous cock to his head. “I’m focusing on symbols in 18th and 19th century literature. Colors, mostly.”
“Huh…” said Jonah. He took another pull off his drink. “Colors … like what they mean?”
“Yes!” said Ray. He now thought Jonah might actually be interested. In his experience, most people were completely bored by his work. - So Ray usually just said what he did, and then the conversation changed to something else. Or ended.
Jonah’s simple question, however, had made him want to say more.
“There is so much wisdom hidden in what most people call fairy tales, or folk tales. They’re filled with imagery and symbols intended to help people. Help people understand life and make good choices.”
“Mmm,” said Jonah. He took another drink and nearly finished his beer. “Stories for kids.”
“That’s a common misconception about fairy and folk tales, actually.” Ray was now delighted to be talking to Jonah. “They were originally for adults—a sort of entertainment, in a way. And they were primarily a way to pass down important information and wisdom—lessons about true courage and how to live a fulfilling life. But we’ve lost touch with . . . you know, the purpose of the stories. Now we only want to be entertained.”
“That is … really interesting” said Jonah, narrowing his eyes. He was clearly considering what Ray was saying.
“Yes!” said Ray, who was filled with energy. He enjoyed having an engaged listener. “And recently … I discovered a connection between those lessons. Between the ancient wisdom in the stories and … nature— growth cycles, in particular. I mean the overlap is uncanny between narrative cycles in stories like—oh, Cinderella—and, like—how a dandelion plant grows. Like they both follow the same rules and steps. I’m going to Stuttgart in Germany to study Goethean science and color theory in a few weeks.”
“Huh..” said Jonah, nodding his head. He smiled. “Well, I have no idea what Goethian is, but I do think people would be interested in the first part, about the wisdom. Most people, like you said, think fairy tales are just … you know, kid’s stories. Disney stuff, that sort of thing. You going to write a book about this?”
Ray was quiet as he considered this. “No—well, an academic paper for sure—but I don’t know that a book would be … anything people would want to read…”
“You should write a book,” said Jonah. He signaled to the bartender that he was ready for another beer, “See, this is what I do. I’m an entrepreneur. Which means that I’m kind of a business artist. I try not to overthink things. Instead, I listen to my gut. And my gut says that a book like that would be popular. Best seller, even. I think people would want to know that, you know, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty have important life lessons in them—for us, for the grown ups, not just for kids. My two cents—you should really think about writing a book.”
Ray was quiet. A book. He hadn’t really thought a book was where his research was headed—but this Jonah businessman made it sound like exactly what he should do.
“Thanks … uh, Jonah. I’ll think about it.”
“Do,” Jonah said. He took his beer and stood up. “Great to meet you Ray. I hope to see that book soon. Listen, I’ve got someone meeting me here in a couple minutes, so …” He put his beer back down on the counter and reached into his pocket. “Here’s my card. When you get that book published, you call me, and we can talk about next steps. I’ve got a good feeling about this, Ray.”
Jonah handed the business card to Ray, and kept his hand out for a handshake. “Write the book Ray,” he repeated, “And then let’s talk.”
Ray quickly wiped the ketchup from his fingers and shook Jonah’s hand. He smiled. Jonah’s attention and support felt great. He felt like he had just encountered a part of his future.
“Thanks, Jonah. I … think I will.”
Then Jonah winked, took his pint of beer, and walked out a side door that led to an outdoor seating area—apparently where he was going to meet someone. Ray heard Jonah’s voice saying faintly “There you are,” and then his laugh mixing with the laugh of a woman.
A book, thought Ray. I could write a book.
And that was when the next chapter of Ray’s life began. He did write the book. After four years studying botany in Germany, and then three more years studying cellular biology in California, he submitted a first draft titled The Modern Relevance of Ancient Texts. His editor thought the book had great promise but encouraged the catchier title A Storied Guide to the Future. Ray’s book posited that the narrative arc and archetypes of fairy tales followed the same path to a universal growth cycle as plants, animals, and people did. It claimed that fairy tales and myths could tell us where we came from, where we are—and where we’re going. It showed how the “hero’s journey”—a narrative pattern identified by Edward Taylor, Carl Jung, and Joseph Campbell—was specifically analogous to the growth cycle of anything from bacteria to maple trees to elephants to people. Ray’s book offered the idea that the general theory of everything—the theory that Albert Einstein and so many others had dedicated their lives to finding—was not found in math … but in story.
The book was initially slow to sell, but when a popular alternative health magazine ran a glowing review, more and more attention came Ray’s way. Dr. Raymond Anadar suddenly found himself being interviewed and giving talks, initially only in progressive institutions and publications. But very quickly, the buzz went mainstream. His book became a bestseller and quite suddenly, he was faced with a new challenge: fame.
Raymond was an academic. He had never sought out attention and riches—in fact, he ran from them. But soon he realized that this new fame and wealth could be put to good use. He used his new platform to attract investment into a center that would expand his theory into a practice. He wanted to create a center with a whole new approach to healing: a kind of medicine rooted in narrative, in story. He hired medical doctors and DNA scientists to work at the institute to help him show that the world—with all its plants, animals, and especially its people—was not made simply out of atoms … but out of stories.
Ray became even more famous, even richer. But before he became a worldwide celebrity—the awkward and quirky doctor who may have discovered the answer to life’s persistent questions— did try to find Jonah MacInnes. He wanted to talk to the man who had pointed him in this direction, the man who had encouraged him to write the book that started it all.
But he found that Jonah was no longer a part of Salt Networks—that he had been fired, actually, a few years previous. Ray also found out that he and his wife were no longer married, and that Jonah, a man who had seemed to be on top of the world when Ray met him in Sweden, had lost everything … and was missing.
The How to Story theme music was produced by Javon Phelps. The story music was by Angus Sewell McCann. 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.
