Author: Michael Tino

I’m one of those atheists who thinks a lot about what separates us humans from the rest of the natural world. Storytelling, our ability to pass down concepts, skills, and values through narrative, seems to be the primary gift. In my family, stories passed down an African identity through generations of slavery and colonialism. Growing up in poverty, stories gave me far flung and diverse experiences. Storytelling, through writing, has been my space for artistic expression, fulfillment, and my currency for advancement in the world. For me, storytelling is life. -Cir L’Bert, Jr (CLF)

What are the stories that have given you life?

Ever think you knew something and then when you try to explain it to someone, you realize you don’t really understand it like you thought you did? It happens to me all the time. So for things that are important to me, I work hard to tell the story to those that will listen. Being able to tell the story helps me better understand and think about meaning. and those listening often ask questions that allow me to think of it in a new and more expansive way. I do this for my work (ever heard the story of the CLF financials?) and for my personal life. -Jody Malloy (CLF)

What story have you told recently that helped you find new meaning?

In Unitarian Universalist spaces, one of the covenantal agreements we often observe is to honor the impact of our words and behaviors over the intentions. This is a very difficult agreement to uphold, because it requires that we loosen our grip on the role we assign ourselves in our own story in order to understand the role we play in another person’s story. -Lori Stone (CLF)

When have you learned that you were the villain in another person’s story? How did you respond?

Growing up in an Arabic speaking home in New Jersey meant that I absorbed two languages all day. At school and out in the world, I heard mostly English (some Spanish and Portuguese when I went into New York City or Newark). I loved when my mother told my sister and I stories in Arabic. Whether they be stories of her childhood, or stories from the Koran or folklore. I just loved absorbing imagery in the Arabic language. How stories and emotions are communicated are vastly different depending on the language one speaks. There are sentiments in Arabic that cannot ever be fully translated into English and vice versa. If I could choose a super power, it would be to know all the languages, so I can tell stories in each one. -Aisha Hauser (CLF)

What would your super power be if you could choose one?

As someone who feels more connected to celebrations of the Winter Solstice than of Christmas, I’ve often longed for an ancient story that I can call upon for Solstice celebrations, just as narratives about Jesus’ birth are told over and over again this time of year. It feels like my ancestors may have had those stories, but they were lost to time and Christian dominance — which leaves me in a strange position as a modern person, knowing that it is an ancient thing to celebrate the Solstice, but not having stories to hold me in that knowing. Last year, I wrote a story about the Solstice for the children of my congregation to perform as a pageant, and we’ll be doing the same story again this year; it doesn’t fill the gap of an ancient story, but feeling the potential of starting new rituals now, seeding the new stories that may hold us in future, helps feed that longing for me. – Rose Gallogly (CLF)

What are new stories you can tell this time of year? How are you planting the seeds of future traditions?