Sacred Storytelling: Guiding Reality Through Crisis With Intentional Narrative

Deep Dive

The discussion begins by defining a crisis through its etymology, suggesting it represents a "fork in the road" and an opportunity for choice. The episode introduces Leah Lamb, described as a writer, creator, and storyteller focused on myth, ritual, and personal transformation, who founded the School for Sacred Storytelling. Tami Simon, the host, expresses her admiration for Lamb's work in bringing together global storytellers to share vital contemporary narratives.

The conversation then shifts to the role of sacred storytellers, with Lamb emphatically stating they are "the seers of our time." She contrasts the modern perception of storytellers as marketers with their original societal function as healers and guides. Lamb asserts that ancient religions agreed the world was "sung, spoken, and chanted into being," positioning humans, through their voices and stories, as creators, alongside other beings like birds and whales. She emphasizes that storytellers historically held a sacred role, acting as memory keepers and guides who could transport individuals to other worlds and safely bring them back.

Lamb explains that stories speak through symbol, metaphor, and archetypes, acting as a "Rosetta Stone" from unseen realms, which can include ancestors, guides, or even the Earth speaking aloud. These messages, received through story, can then function as guidance for navigating current times. She clarifies that being a sacred storyteller means using one's voice in service to life itself, which influences the choice of stories told and the life force invested.

The discussion delves into the biological and conscious response to overwhelming fear and devastation. Lamb explains that when our biological nervous system enters fight, flight, or freeze, our consciousness, embodied by our stories, can take the helm. She urges listeners to choose which story they want to live in and create, using their voice to speak it into being, rather than succumbing to fear. She critiques the "half-glass full" mentality as potentially smarmy but reinterprets it as ancient knowledge about the power of discerning language and the human capacity to create reality.

Lamb elaborates on the concept of crisis, returning to its etymological meaning of a "fork in the road" and an opportunity for choice. She posits that humanity is being called to a new guardianship of the Earth, asking what one loves and is willing to protect. She believes that enough people focusing on this will be sufficient to protect the planet.

A clarifying question is posed regarding a metaphor Lamb shared about the body and soul. Lamb explains that the brain is not inherently smart but designed for survival, and when overwhelmed by fear, it shuts down. She likens the brain to a car designed to go, and consciousness, through stories, to the driver. She highlights that in times of crisis, the brain's response of shutting down is natural, but consciousness can then choose the narrative to inhabit.

The conversation moves to the distinction between fantasy and dreams, with Lamb suggesting that a utopian world where everyone gets along is a dream rather than a fantasy. She proposes that when feeling hopeless or powerless, the question "what's something that would be radically different" can be explored. This involves getting energy out of the overstimulated thinking brain and connecting with another intelligence on the planet, recognizing that the Earth is designed to heal and survive. She advocates for becoming collaborators and partners with the Earth, suggesting a shift from the "hero" archetype, who acts alone, to a future focused on collaboration and living with the world.

Lamb shares her conviction that the Earth loves us, explaining that her experiences in nature, feeling peace, ease, and love, are evidence of energy coming from the natural world. She contrasts this with the potential for environmental news to induce despair, stating that inspiration comes from the living, not just data. She recounts her past work for Al Gore's television network, where her role was to synthesize environmental news, but she realized inspiration stemmed from a different source.

The discussion turns to Lamb's experience recording a series on sacred storytelling in New York while fires raged in Topanga Canyon, near her home. She describes the overwhelming reality of potential loss and how, in that moment, she focused on the day of recording, embracing the possibility of losing material possessions. She recounts how her community, despite the failure of social services, mobilized with remarkable connection and resourcefulness. Neighbors formed communication systems, created fire brigades, mapped water sources, and utilized local libraries as emergency centers.

Lamb highlights that in crisis, the "noise of life goes away," and deep listening reveals what is "yours to do." She observed people stepping into their strengths, with marketing people creating communication systems and others forming fire brigades. She notes that some people instinctively knew when to leave, and importantly, two neighbors who previously had a feud collaborated to fight the fire, ultimately saving Topanga. She views this as a powerful example of real community showing up when inconvenient and necessary, where egos recede in the face of crisis. She references research on World War II Londoners who recalled the bombing period as a highlight due to intense connection and aliveness, suggesting that crisis can bring out both the best and worst in people, offering opportunities to show up differently than in everyday life.

The conversation addresses the storyteller's lens for guiding listeners "home." Lamb explains that sacred storytellers look for the "way through," identifying patterns and actions that offer a path forward, rather than ignoring difficult aspects. She uses the analogy of preparing someone for childbirth, emphasizing the importance of sharing stories of courage and successful births, rather than those of death or hardship. She advocates for discerning what stories to tell, focusing on hope, love, and courage, and avoiding the amplification of fear and hate. She suggests facing waves head-on, diving into them, or riding them, rather than running away, likening this to the storyteller's role in steering the narrative.

Lamb offers prompts for individuals lost in their life's story. She advises against telling the story while still in its thickest part and warns against repeating old stories. Instead, she suggests radical presence and asking for a "medicine story" or a story to help through the current, unknown situation. She advocates for approaching this with humility, stating, "I don't know how to do this... Can you bring me a story?" The prompt "Once upon a time" is recommended to enter the mythic dimension, with the intention of receiving a healing story. The crucial element, she stresses, is trusting what comes through, recognizing it as a product of surrender and a willingness to see something bigger.

She shares a personal example of betrayal where she recast the perpetrator as a "master teacher" in the mythic dimension, allowing her to address a core wound and create alchemy with other stuck stories. This process, she explains, involves seeing oneself as a "storyed person" and an "alchemist," where changing the story changes the energy within the body, leading to a commitment to never tell that story the same way again. She also recounts a second story where a powerful, confusing meeting led her to ask for a story in the mythic dimension, receiving a narrative about being gods in a past life, which helped make sense of the otherworldly feeling and the potential for a bigger story.

The discussion then shifts to the connection between whales and storytelling. Lamb mentions her book "The Whale Dreamer" and a multimedia initiative to inspire youth about the ocean. She