“I want this story. Your story. The tale of what brought us to this place, in these chairs, with this wine. I don’t want a story you create from here”–he taps his temple with his finger–”I want one that is here.” He lets his hand hover over his heart for a moment before sitting back in his chair.
Taking his time as though he has all of it in the world, in the universe, from the days when tales meant more than they do now, but perhaps less than they will someday, he draws a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart, and they fall from his lips effortlessly.
“The circus arrives without warning.””
(from The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern)
I just finished this book. I don’t ordinarily really like fantasy (Harry Potter aside), but this one felt like what happens on a great day in a TPRS class. Like my experience with Feldenkrais this week, it flowed in the “pure” way that Ben Slavic has talked about.
Between these two influences and memories of my Aunt Berna, a fabulous story-teller who turns 80 this week, I feel as though the universe is conspiring to remind me to be where I am with kids. I don’t need to force the telling or the talking. As long as we allow emotion to be part of the fabric of the story, the students will start to feel like they are part of something similar to the Night Circus.