Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
SPEAKER_00 (00:45):
Language of the
Soul, how story became the means
by which we transform.
Chapter 1.
Storytelling and Transformation.
I was recently asked to presenta lecture on storytelling in an
online version of the animationconvention I've been a part of
since its inception twelve yearsago.
My response was an enthusiasticyes.
(01:07):
For one, I was on firecreatively, having just finished
a novel I considered my mostinspired work to date.
I was eager to share my latestdiscoveries.
But more importantly, I felt theevent was much needed in light
of the grim climate.
The isolation demanded by theCOVID-19 pandemic, as well as
months of social unrest andpolitical divisiveness, had put
(01:28):
many in a tailspin.
More than ever, we artistsneeded to continue to inspire
one another and remind ourselveswhy we do what we do.
We humans needed to continue tomotivate and inspire one
another.
Renewing hope in the face offutility is a daily struggle.
We'd been forced into a culturaltime out.
It could not have been clearerto me the moment of quiet
(01:51):
contemplation was an opportunityto reflect on the thought forms
and paradigms that had gotten usinto this mess.
When forced lockdown came along,I didn't bat an eye.
As an artist and a writer, Ifelt blessed to have my craft as
catharsis.
It went a long way.
Even so, as much or more than mywriting, I relied on faith to
(02:12):
get me through the trying time.
Let me explain.
I was born in 1968, at a momentwhen the world was on fire.
A quick Google search will yieldthat during the year of my
birth, both Martin Luther Kingand Robert Kennedy were
assassinated.
The Democratic NationalConvention in Chicago resulted
in one of the lowest historicalpoints in police brutality, and
(02:35):
many of the civil rightsdemonstrations took place that
would result in lastinginstitutionalized social reform.
The following year, 1969,brought both Woodstock and the
Moon Landing.
History has framed Woodstock asthe quintessence of our
interconnectivity, the verypicture of communion in action.
The Moon Landing exemplifiesman's ever-evolving march toward
(02:57):
realizing human potential.
Neil Armstrong's declaration,One Small Step for a Man, One
Giant Leap for Mankind,beautifully puts into words the
paradigm shifts that yieldpossibility.
Outdated thought forms like ManCannot Fly regularly dissolve
and give way to new, moreinnovative ones, putting us a
(03:18):
bit closer to our humanpotential.
As an added plus, his wordingexpressed the power of
individual accomplishment toimpact the whole of humanity.
The seeming disparity of theseback-to-back world events can be
easily explained.
Crisis yields opportunity.
Strife signals change.
(03:38):
It is well known that mantransforms through conflict
resolution alone.
On the microcosmic level,individuals resolve cognitive
dissonance by synthesizingopposing thought forms into new
novel ones.
On a macrocosmic or societallevel, the status quo prevails
until unrest, activism, protest,and demonstration, even
(04:00):
storytelling and art, upendsoutdated institutions and
paradigms.
In 2020, many have speculatedabout the meaning behind this
unprecedented moment, whatcultural shift might be on the
horizon.
The faith that has sustained mepersonally lies in the
understanding that all strifesignals transformation, and that
(04:20):
man evolves solely throughconflict resolution.
Storytelling, by definition, isconflict resolution.
In this way, the part westorytellers play in cultural
transformation is beyondmeasure.
Ayn Rand has said that art isman's metaphysical mirror.
Art and storytelling reflectback our invisibles, the norms,
(04:43):
mores, codes, ethics,principles, and beliefs, whose
evolution is just as crucial toour survival as that of our
biology.
Stories take the temperature ofsociety at any given time,
playing as vital a role asactivism or persuasion.
You see, it is equally wellknown that we learn more in the
narrative realm than thedidactic.
(05:05):
When faced with politicalpersuasion or propaganda, most
dig their heels inanimately,falling back on cherry-picking
and confirmation bias toreinforce existing beliefs.
This is the ultimate in minddominance and ego.
Storytelling, in contrast topersuasion, appeals to our
emotions rather than ourintellect.
(05:27):
We change minds by touchinghearts.
My passion for the role westorytellers play in dialectic
is what drove me to agree to theonline talk.
I took the opportunity to up mygame.
Not only did I compile recentdiscoveries in my own process,
my relationship with craft, Ibrushed up on the academic view
of story.
(05:48):
This is where I hit a wall.
Granted, I'm too subversive formy own good.
The resistance that arose in mewhile reading up is nothing new.
Traditionally, I reject anynotion of right or wrong in art
and literature.
I'm more apt to speak of simplecause and effect, choices.
I believe the creative processis malleable, and I am hyper
(06:09):
aware of the proprietary spineach quote expert puts on
standard accepted models of it.
I am familiar with the infinitevariations on the classic
Western storytelling arc, eachwith a proprietary twist that
makes it brandable.
Deepening my resistance, mylifelong knee-jerk rejection of
the definitive was in high gear.
(06:30):
But more than anything, myresistance was rooted in this.
The unspoken presumption is thisthat the goal of good or
(06:50):
effective writing is commercialsuccess, or bank at the box
office, slash bestseller status,as I put it, over literary
value.
Though mainstream commercialsuccess and literary value can
often be at odds, I don't thinkfor a moment the two are
mutually exclusive.
I looked to phenomena like TheLion King, my first film at
(07:11):
Disney, as evidence the two canalign.
The film struck a chord with themasses, resulting in box office
success and global significance,precisely due to its literary
value.
Its resonant universal themespoke profoundly of the human
condition.
The awkward intersection of artand commerce is as old as time,
(07:31):
and I am no stranger to it.
In my own ongoing journey withcraft, I looked to these rare
confluences of artisticintegrity and commercial success
as luminaries, beacons of hope.
For the presentation, I resolvedmy reticence by arriving at the
following premise.
One must consider the impliedgoal when offering any
(07:52):
definitive advice on thecreative process or
storytelling.
Only then do the cause andeffect behind every choice
remotely correlate with rightand wrong.
Further, I recovered mymotivation to share my thoughts
on storytelling by honing in onwhat I was most passionate about
imparting, the why part of theequation.
Not the nuts and bolts ormechanics of technique, but why
(08:15):
we tell stories in the firstplace.
The virtual audience was to belargely comprised of
self-identified storytellers,whether wordsmiths or visual
storytellers, each at adifferent stage of development.
In the context of this book, Iwould argue that the drive to
impart narrative is alive in allof us.
It's synonymous with beinghuman.
(08:35):
We are all born storytellerswith a unique, authentic story
to tell.
In twenty years of teaching atmy alma mater art center, I've
been privy to many a uniquecreative process, and just as
many relationships with alifelong artistic journey.
I've learned more by witnessinghundreds of students over twenty
years of teaching than in my ownjourney or anything I could have
(08:57):
read in a book.
What I know beyond all else isthis.
At some point, most artistsconnect their chosen craft with
an authentic voice by assessingwhat drives them in the first
place.
Once honed, that voice is thenconnected with a sense of
purpose, and the circuit iscompleted by contributing it to
humanity in some way.
(09:18):
There's much evidence that man,pre-language, told stories
around the campfire.
This oral tradition arguablybecame the mythology that later
informed religion.
These same archetypes, or tropesfor the more empirical among us,
evolved into the Westernstorytelling structure informing
everything from the Greektragedies through Shakespearean
(09:39):
templates to the latest greatestaction-adventure movie at the
corner cinema.
This fact alone should beevidence that the drive is
innate.
Evolutionary theory suggeststhat all institutions,
conventions, traditions, norms,and mories that persist over
time and refuse to evolve out ofus, serve the propagation of the
tribe in some way.
(10:00):
If one accepts the premise thatthe drive is instinctual or has
been, quote, wired into us fromthe first page of human history,
the question becomes why?
Why is narrative synonymous withbeing human?
Or put more simply, why do wetell stories?
I asked that simple question dayone of all my art center
(10:22):
classes.
The responses over twenty yearsof teaching easily distill into
a list of usual suspects.
To create permanence, leave amark.
In class I usually volunteerthis one first to get it out of
the way.
Most schools of thought positiveall our creative efforts, from
scrawling a herd of buffalo on acave wall, to building a temple
(10:44):
or the Empire State Building,are attempts to combat futility
by leaving a mark, lest we findourselves nothing more than dust
in the wind.
The innate knowledge that wewill come and go like so many
before us is known asexistential terror.
To pass on knowledge.
This reply is usually one of thefirst offered by students,
(11:06):
followed, of course, by themental image of a caveman in a
fur pelt rubbing two stickstogether to start a fire.
Without written language, oraltradition was the only way to
assure that future generationswould be able to do the same,
and the knowledge would not belost, along with the recipe for
ice, to the sands of time.
But why not simply verballyrelate step-by-step
(11:28):
instructions?
Why the narrative aspect?
It has been well documented thatperceptual interims, image
associations, are crucial tolearning and memorization, hence
the literary metaphor that makesStory the most effective teacher
of all.
To entertain.
In the early days of my teachingI would nearly cringe, hoping my
(11:50):
resistance didn't show on myface, when this suggestion was
inevitably voiced.
To me the phrase sounded a bitlike to pacify, to divert, or to
bide time.
The elitist in me had muchloftier highbrow notions about
the role story played inculture.
Not to mention I had a distastefor all the hours spent by the
(12:10):
younger generations blowing shitup, playing interactive video
games simply as diversion.
I saw it as a luxury we couldnot afford, considering we had
yet to achieve world peace.
I have since come around, theendorphins released by laughing,
especially in a communalsetting, directly contribute to
the altruism that serves ourproliferation.
(12:32):
Further, there is an argumentthat the catharsis provided in
cinema, for example, is linkedto the release of pent-up
aggression.
There is equal evidence,however, that without redemptive
value, the same content isactually feeding a cultural
addiction to adrenaline andcortisol.
To explain nature During theBronze Age, oral tradition was
(12:56):
dominated by mythology thatlargely served to explain
nature.
If a volcano erupted anddecimated a nomadic population
or destroyed a croppost-agriculture, the human
compulsion to rationalize led torather elaborate explanations.
This mythology arguably evolvedinto religion.
Comparative religion expertJoseph Campbell, among others,
(13:19):
analyzes the shared mythologicalstructure informing religions
the world over, across time andregardless of culture.
His video series, The Masks ofGod, is a good place to start,
as is Hero with a ThousandFaces, the elemental handbook
for the much talked about hero'sjourney, about which aspiring
screenwriters at Starbucks can'tseem to shut up.
(13:42):
To impart wisdom.
It may seem this function wasalready covered under the
umbrella of passing onknowledge, but consider this.
One definition of wisdom is thatit represents theoretical
knowledge infused with practicallife experience.
Another definition suggests thatwisdom dabbles in more
philosophical fair, theintangible conceptual realm of
(14:05):
our principles, ethics, norms,mores, values, beliefs, and
codes.
My way of putting it is this thethematic content inherent in
story teaches us to live in theworld.
The individual's transformationdirectly contributes to the
evolution of the paradigms andthought forms that comprise our
social conditioning on themacrocosmic level.
(14:26):
Epigenetics then ensures what'spassed on, determines our
collective future.
As catharsis Below are severaldefinitions of catharsis from
different sources.
Purification or purgation of theemotions, such as pity and fear,
primarily through art.
(14:47):
two a purification or purgationthat brings about spiritual
renewal or release from tension.
three elimination of a complexby bringing it to consciousness
and affording it expression.
four the process of releasingand thereby providing relief
from strong or repressedemotions.
(15:09):
Art and literature providecatharsis on both the individual
subjective level and thecultural level.
Creative expression can betherapeutic for both artist and
patron, then by extension forsociety.
Imagine for a moment that BonnieRaid writes a song about
heartbreak in her studio.
The experience of processing herpain will be healing for her in
(15:31):
many respects, as confessional,spiritual cleansing, and
redemption.
Imagine now that a woman laterhears the tune on her car radio
while driving across the Midwestthousands of miles from the
studio where it was created.
The feeling is overwhelming.
Someone on earth has felt thevery same way she has after a
breakup.
(15:51):
She feels validated and slightlyless alone.
The cathartic circle has beencompleted.
Now imagine that individuals arebeing transformed by art
everywhere across the globe.
For reasons we will explorelater in this chapter,
storytelling and art haveperhaps the greatest impact on
paradigm shift.
(16:11):
In terms of worldview, we areproducts of the stories we've
been exposed to.
Similarly, the codes andpolicies of society are forged
by the stories we tell aboutourselves and human history.
The sum of individualtransformation is cultural
shift.
To promote unity, bonding.
(16:32):
Studies have shown thatbrainwaves synchronize at
communal events like drumcircles or music concerts.
This phenomenon could not bemore apparent than in the former
example of Woodstock, wherepeace and harmony undeniably
prevailed despite potentialchaos.
But beyond shared gamma waves,the bonding, affinity,
identification, and resultantunity are rooted in the shared
(16:56):
humanity that stories reveal.
Most of us have had theexperience of leaving a concert,
or the cinema or an opera house,or the theater, feeling simply
more alive, more human.
In the most basic terms,storytelling promotes unity by
exposing our shared humanity.
(17:16):
To enlighten, Plato's famedallegory of the cave beautifully
illustrated a universal humandilemma Deepak Chopra would
later call the dream spellillusion, and the Wachowskis
would dub the matrix.
The premise is that many acceptempirical data as the whole of
reality, while rationalistsconsider it the tip of an
iceberg.
(17:37):
With intellectual curiosity andspiritual seeking, in theory,
one begins to question the truenature of things, rather than
taking them at face value, tosee not only the shadows in the
cave wall, but what is actuallycasting them.
One begins to see through thematrix in Mochowski lingo.
On the microcosmic level, thisevolution is often the result of
(18:00):
exposure and education, but neednot be identified with mind and
ego.
On the macro, human historydemonstrates an evolution from
sheer survival instinct tohigher consciousness.
If that which is quantifiable isindeed but a minute expression
of a vaster metaphysicalreality, one piece of a puzzle,
it is fair to say that anacknowledgement of the
(18:22):
metaphysical or spiritualbelongs largely to the domain of
arts and literature.
In keeping with Ayn Rand'sphilosophy, art and storytelling
constantly remind us it's there.
Novels like Wuthering Heightsand The Scarlet Letter spoke of
epigenetics long before theburgeoning field of study
existed.
Works like Great Expectationsand The Great Gadsby beautifully
(18:44):
illustrate ourinterconnectedness over time and
despite geography, long beforequantum mechanics acknowledged
the phenomenon of entanglementand before cell biology embraced
non-local energetic signalingfrom the environment.
More often than not, bycaricaturing the present,
science fiction predicts thefuture.
(19:04):
These are but a few examples ofthe innate grasp on fundamental
reality we humans possess.
Meaning and Truth in the Arts byJohn Hospers, and Art and
Science by Elaine Strasbergbreak down the history of
scientific discovery and theintuitive expression in art that
often predates each revelation.
(19:24):
Okay, but how?
In my Art Center classes, afterrattling off the usual suspects
on the list above of why we tellstories, I then ask how
storytelling accomplishes ourlist of outcomes.
What does a story need in orderto accomplish the above?
I am rarely disappointed.
My college-age students areusually able to recall many of
(19:46):
the story elements most of uslearned in elementary school.
The answers I most commonlyreceive here are relatable
characters or a relatableprotagonist, conflict, relatable
themes that speak to the humancondition.
The above three elements are, ofcourse, interrelated.
Relatable characters slashprotagonist.
(20:09):
This one is somewhatself-explanatory.
If we are going to hang in therefor a 273-page novel or a
90-minute movie, the characterwe're invested in must be
relatable.
Specifically, it is the goal ofthis protagonist in which we
invest throughout.
It's been said thatscreenwriting, based on
(20:29):
traditional Western storytellingstructure, is simply something
happens that causes anotherthing to happen and so on.
It's also been said that greatscreenwriting hinges on hope and
fear.
We hope the protagonist withwhom we identify will accomplish
her.
Goal.
We fear that she may not.
That which stands in the way ofthe goal is the all-familiar
(20:51):
antagonistic force.
It can be something as amorphousas fear or self-doubt, the
standard for a Miyazaki film,for example, but in many Western
traditions a storyteller is morelikely to incarnate the force in
a villain with a twisty mustachewho ties maidens to the railroad
tracks.
A character's relatability isonly partially dependent on
likability.
(21:12):
Earlier I mentioned my distastefor books about Western
storytelling structure andscreenwriting.
The presumption that commercialscreenwriting equates with quote
good screenwriting is only oneof my objections.
Another is the parroting offormulaic screenwriting devices
that border on comical.
For example, the antagonist mustshow their full capacity for
(21:33):
evil by page 60.
Think, Darth Vader using thedeath grip to off incidental
characters for the audience'sbenefit, long before going head
to head with our hero.
Another silly rule.
For the protagonist to beappealing and relatable, he or
she must kiss a baby, or walk anold lady across a busy
intersection at the start of Act1.
(21:53):
This is only a slightexaggeration.
It is largely agreed upon thataffinity depends on such
demonstrations of virtue orethos.
The more nuanced truth, however,is that we relate to
vulnerability and faultedness.
The protagonist simply must befaulted in order to have a
character arc.
That is, if we are going totransform along with him or her
(22:15):
on the yellow brick roadjourney, there must be room for
growth.
Conflict and character arc.
Conflict should be describedthis way.
Character has goal, somethingstands in the way of that goal.
Therein lies the conflict.
Simple as that.
Many traditions, however, splitthe goal into a want and a
(22:35):
higher need.
We've all seen films in which weas an audience know exactly what
the protagonist could, should,or must do to achieve her goal.
But she inevitably has some formof hubris or some fatal flaw
that blinds her to it.
This fatal flaw is what accountsfor a strong character arc and
therefore greater transformationfor the patron.
(22:56):
In the classic Rags to Richestemplate, Pygmalion, my fair
lady, pretty woman, theprotagonist moves from, well,
poor to rich.
It is symbolic of meek toempowered.
As mentioned earlier, mostMiyazaki films feature
variations on the theme ofovercoming meekness or doubt and
stepping into one's personalpower, relying on the resonance
(23:17):
of a theme dating back toChrist's parable, The Rich Man
and the Beggar.
For that matter, all heroes'journeys, it could be argued,
follow this same model.
I would venture to say it isreflective of the spiritual
journey we are all on.
Other character arcs mightinclude ignorance to
enlightened, futile topurposeful, defeated to
(23:38):
inspired, prejudice to tolerant,self-serving to altruistic,
egocentric to selfless, greedyto charitable, judgmental to
compassionate, or arrogant tohumble.
The way in which conflictresolves categorically
determines the main theme.
In class, I often use the Wizardof Oz to speak about not just
(23:59):
want and need, but how theconflict resolution results in
thematic content.
I use the classic for the simplereason that, for the larger part
of my twenty years of teaching,everyone in the room, any given
semester, had seen or read it.
This is no longer the case inrecent years, leading me to
suspect I no longer reside onplanet Earth.
(24:20):
The other reason I use theWizard of Oz is for its
conciseness.
Though L.
Frank Baum's novels venturedinto many lands with myriad
tangential characters, thescreenplay honed the particulars
down to a core essence that isthe quintessence of both the
hero's journey and the throughthe rabbit hole template of
storytelling.
When analyzing the Wizard of Oz,there's a great deal of
(24:41):
consensus.
Students usually agree, aftersome discussion, that Dorothy's
primary goal in so many words isthis.
Dorothy wants the Wizard of Ozto send her home to Kansas.
I then asked the class if thatgoal was accomplished.
The consensus.
No it was not.
The wizard turned out to be afraud.
(25:02):
Me.
What did she actually have to doto get home to Kansas?
Answer.
Dorothy had to click her heelstogether to get home to Kansas.
Therefore the goal, when splitinto want and higher need, looks
like this Goal.
To get home to Kansas.
Want.
Dorothy wants the Wizard of Ozto send her home to Kansas.
(25:24):
Need.
Dorothy needs to click her heelstogether to get home to Kansas.
Doesn't sound too transformativeas stories go.
The thing is it's symbolic.
The metaphorical version of theabove looks like this.
Goal.
To be content.
Want.
Dorothy seeks contentmentoutside of herself.
(25:46):
Need.
Dorothy must seek contentmentwithin.
Of course there are dozens ofways to word this, but you get
the idea.
Dorothy's line in the film doesnothing less than spell out the
theme.
If I ever go looking for myheart's desire again, I won't
look any further than my ownbackyard.
Because if it isn't there, Inever really lost it to begin
(26:08):
with.
A popular book in the eightieswas titled, All I Really Need to
Know I Learned in Kindergarten.
The theme of contentment,wholeness, tranquility, or
well-being residing within isquite universal for its
relevance to the humancondition.
Most spiritual traditionsacknowledge inner peace as
independent of circumstances andconditions, which are neutral
(26:29):
beyond our perception of them.
In that way, the tools ofcontentment are intrinsic.
As Abraham Hicks would put it,contentment is an inside job.
In addition to the main theme,literary works often incorporate
sub themes.
None of them need be didactic.
A theme might explore all sidesof an aspect of the human
(26:51):
condition, rather than issuing apreachy or moralistic directive.
In fact, many traditions wouldargue that a moralistic agenda
robs work of literary value andartistic integrity, pushing it
into the realm of propaganda.
Similarly, sentimentality isfrowned upon in some literary
circles.
Indulging it a form of backseatdriving is seen as nothing less
(27:15):
than death to literary value.
As it turns out, art mirrorslife once again in that
objectivity wins out toattachment in most spiritual
traditions.
The way to identify the maintheme of any literary work is to
identify the want and the need,then analyze the resolution of
the inherent conflict.
If neither the want nor the needis met, you have a tragedy by
(27:39):
definition.
This doesn't mean there's noredemption to be had.
Tragedies like Shakespeare'sHamlet or Titus Andronicus, for
example, become cautionarytales.
In addition to soliciting ourpathos and serving as catharsis,
at the very least we look at theCarnage and say to ourselves,
Alrighty then, best not to takethat approach.
(28:00):
In the case of Titus, thepitfalls to avoid would be
revenge and family vendetta.
Both are dead and roadssmattered with plenty of blood.
When either the want or thehigher need is met via the
conflict resolution, a story issaid to be a comedy.
This does not mean a kneeslapper per se.
Comedy is simply a term thatrefers to the alternative to
(28:22):
tragedy, a story in which thereis redemptive value.
Not all literary works are outto change the world.
In an action adventure film withlittle to say, the want and the
need may be the same.
The protagonist wants to savethe president from terrorists,
and he needs to do so.
He wants to pull off thebankheist, and he needs to pull
(28:43):
it off.
But in character driven farethat seeks to do what R does,
move beyond titillation for boxoffice proceeds, the want is
separate from a higher need.
Let's look at our Wizard of Ozexample to find the main theme.
The higher need was this.
Dorothy needed to click herheels together to get home to
Kansas.
(29:04):
It's symbolic for Dorothy neededto seek contentment within in
her own backyard.
To arrive at the main themeimparted by conflict resolution,
one simply generalizes the need.
We all have the goods within tobe content.
We mustn't seek contentment inthe exterior world.
Or it's futile to seekcontentment outside of
(29:25):
ourselves, or some variationthereof, you get the gist.
As in the case of many literaryworks, all character arcs in the
Wizard of Oz support the maintheme.
The cowardly lion learns he toopossesses what he seeks,
courage, and has all along.
He knows because he stood up forhis new friends, or family as
(29:45):
the case may be.
The Tin Woodsman learns he doesin fact have a heart, because he
feels for his companions.
The scarecrow, who'sinternalized the belief his head
is full of straw rather thanwit, learns he does in fact have
a brain.
He's gotten the motley crew outof many a pinch on the
Yellowbrick Road journey.
In this way, all charactersovercome self-doubt, a classic
(30:09):
milestone in the hero's journey.
More importantly, all thecharacter arcs support the main
theme of intrinsic completeness.
However, the unlikely friendsmust go on the yellow brick road
journey to discover theirempowerment.
There are plenty of sub-themesat work in the Wizard of Oz.
One of the most prominent isthat of the wounded healer, the
(30:31):
faulted protagonist whose woundor lack drives her to seek,
creating a space in which otherstoo can rise to become their
best selves.
But what about it all?
It should be clear by now thatwe internalize the thematic
content story offers by going onthe yellow brick road journey
along with identifiableprotagonists.
(30:53):
This is what's meant bytransformation.
We transform along with theprotagonist.
This is precisely because wehumans grow via conflict
resolution alone, on both themicro and the macro level.
The synthesis of cognitivedissonance in an individual is
what leads to new thought formsand paradigms.
We've all had the experience ofresolving a dispute with a loved
(31:16):
one and arriving in newterritory as a result.
Simply living through it is abonding experience that leads to
affinity in the relationship.
If both parties have conflictresolution skills and resist the
impulse to bolt, therebyabandoning the other, the bond
is cemented.
On a societal level, it issocial unrest, strife, and civil
(31:38):
disobedience that leads tolasting institutionalized social
reform.
Otherwise, the status quocontinues to reign.
The limiting thought formsinherent in our social
conditioning persist, and weremain prisoner to old
paradigms.
The act of investing in anarrative, in the wants and the
needs of a relatable character,creates a receptivity that
(32:01):
allows thematic content, orenlightenment, to land, to
reshape our hearts and minds.
But the mechanics of exactly howthis transpires can be a bit
mysterious.
We've covered the elementsnecessary for story to
transform, and we've touched onthe mechanics of effective
structure, but there's more tothe equation.
(32:21):
And here's the clincher.
It's all chemical.
On cocktails and vices.
Storytelling has been an innatehuman drive from day one.
Academics fond of evolutionarytheory have determined its main
functions are forging unitywithin the tribe and
transformation for theindividual.
(32:41):
It is my premise that thispersonal transformation
translates into culturalevolution.
But how?
To recap, a story must speak tosomething relatable about the
human condition in order totransform.
In addition to a relatableprotagonist, the goals of whom
we invest in, stories inherentlyincorporate conflict.
(33:03):
In the same way the brain iswired for language, our innate
understanding of conflictresolution as transformation,
crucial to our survival, wiresus for story.
Consider for a moment that inevery language, conveying a
complete idea or conceptrequires a subject and
predicate.
It is virtually impossible tocommunicate anything coherent,
(33:25):
to convert an abstract conceptinto a percept without relying
on this formula.
This speaks to an innate wiringfor language.
We are simply wired forstorytelling due to our innate,
hereditary understanding of itsrole.
If I put a gun to your head andcommanded you to tell a story,
the moment you opened your mouthor put pen to paper, whatever
(33:48):
story you concocted would take acertain form.
It would incorporate conflict.
The resolution of this conflictwould determine the main theme
imparted, which has the power totransform others via catharsis.
Let's look at the mechanisticway in which this occurs when
listening to a story orallyaround the campfire, flipping
through pages, or munching onpopcorn while glued to the
(34:10):
silver screen.
Studies have shown that readingnovels cultivates empathy and
compassion in children.
Our sheer identification withthe protagonist and resultant
investment in his or her goalshould be an obvious
contributor.
As a filmmaker, I've always beenawed by the phenomenon that
simply spending 90 minutes withan on-screen character, even a
(34:32):
despicable one, compels us toroot for him or her.
We can watch Bruce Willis amassa body count of hundreds in The
Last Boy Scout and still rootfor him to prevail.
Such is the power ofstorytelling and the
all-engaging medium that iscinema.
And with slightly scarierimplications, such is the power
(34:52):
of story as propaganda.
Reading novels has also beenshown to cultivate tolerance in
children.
Simply exposing children tocultures and lifestyles to which
they might not otherwise beprivy makes the other more
familiar, and therefore lessthreatening.
Regular exposure to diversityvia literature and film erodes
(35:13):
the tribal instinct to demonizethe other or forge a common
enemy.
I would argue that along withthe hand that rocks the cradle,
regular exposure to redeemingstories exercises compassion and
tolerance like muscles.
After birth, an infant's braincells continue multiplying
rapidly.
At the age of six months, thatsame baby will have more brain
(35:35):
cells than at any other juncturein life.
This is for one simple andrather tragic reason.
If we don't use it, we lose it.
The phenomenon of synapticpruning suggests that if we
don't engage in a givenpractice, like learning the
violin, for example, the braincells and potential neural
circuits conducive to such anactivity will be snipped.
(35:58):
In the same way, serotoninregulates our awareness by
tuning out all but what isimmediately crucial to survival.
The pruning takes place forefficiency's sake, but the
implications of it arestartlingly tragic.
The sheer stilting of humanpotential is what inspires
programs and public serviceannouncements geared toward
underprivileged communities,encouraging parents to sing to
(36:21):
your child, read to your child,talk to your child.
Exposure to stimulation andnovelty, simple dendrite
activity, is crucial to brainplasticity and the tempering of
overzealous synaptic pruning.
Societies that partake in storyand historical periods during
which storytelling is a culturalvalue are simply more empathetic
(36:41):
and compassionate.
These attributes serve thepropagation of the tribe.
When Aristotle spoke of thecathartic role of theater in
Greek culture, he was consciousof impending fascism.
He was making a conscious effortto preserve the arts as a
cultural value.
But he may have been on to more.
The article Reading LiteraryFiction versus Popular Fiction
(37:04):
promotes different sociocognitive outcomes by Beth
Elwood, confirms the byproductsof compassion, empathy, and
tolerance.
Further, by citing differentstudies, the article
distinguishes between commercialfiction and the literary fiction
that incorporates the redemptivequalities this chapter is
devoted to.
A commercial series likeGoosebumps is not likely to do
(37:26):
much for the child's emotionalmaturation, nor the
proliferation of the tribe.