On “Deep Attentiveness” and Narrative Power

Dan Beard telling a story to a group of boys and girls in the Flatbush Library in 1913

by Lael Ewy

I probably flub a lot of job interviews because of my propensity to tell stories. Instead of giving straight answers I’ll tell a story that (to me anyway) illustrates the answer to an interview question. I recall being asked, in an interview for a teaching position, whether or not I would ever “give up on a kid.” This prompted a 20-minute tale about a student who I had encouraged to drop out of the small college where I worked, knowing that a little time off was what he needed to get back on track educationally. (He did come back--and finished!)

There’s a perception running around out there that nobody has the time for such things. This is despite the fact that stories are ubiquitous in our culture: TV shows, movies, newspaper articles—even video games and ads—follow a narrative arc. Why is narrative so common? Because it is actually an extremely efficient and effective form of communication.

Narrative can encapsulate a lot of different, and sometimes contradictory, ideas into a single form, sometimes even into a single character. We find Hamlet fascinating because he’s witty and engaging, thoughtful and immobilized, romantic and cold, wrathful and uncertain, and he’s all these things all at once. Instead of analyzing, narrative embodies.

But we’re also drawn to stories because they’re deeply personal: these complex characters are like people we know, people we are, people we’d like to be. We worry about how they’re going to resolve their problems so we can emulate that or avoid it, so we can consider it and modify it in our own lives. Stories connect because they’re about people, whether or not those people are real. Spreadsheets have their uses, but it’s hard to form a deep connection with them. 

If we tell stories that involve ourselves, and if we take the time to listen, we set up a situation in which the deep truth of one’s experience can come forth. The storytelling situation also allows for what Parker Palmer calls creating responses from a place of “deep attentiveness,” a place where our usual guardedness can fall away and genuine connections can be made. 

From this, you can see why we use storytelling as an integral part of training peer support workers in the mental health field, but taking the time to tell stories and to listen to them can create mutual, helping relationships wherever you are.         

Photo credit: New York Public Library