With the ever-widening wealth gap between the rich and the poor, statistics abound. But they fail to animate the human spirit. Story is a way into history and "teaching our hearts how to live as choiceful human beings."
Inspired by the simplicity and power of Naomi Shihab Nye's story, here's a list of five simple things we can do to help with healing the heart of democracy.
Fairy tales serve as a platform for facing our demons in a safe place and developing a moral compass. Just some of the insights captured in our sketchnotes.
Sit down with these sketchnotes while listening to Krista's interview. See what you hear differently as you peruse these visual notes. Tell us about it.
This animated short from StoryCorps shares one of Studs Terkel's hope-filled stories about the power of the unfiltered human voice, a baby's voice, in our modern life.
Pádraig Ó Tuama on the inaccuracy of the Christmas story, as commonly told, for we might miss the more important message within.
A diverse panel of big thinkers demonstrate how writers and scientists can jointly explore the wide spectrum of theories and questions around storytelling.
A video that's so heartbreakingly gorgeous and unswerving in its emotional sway, it'll have you pondering your own station in life.
On these early spring days, this 53-second story from Kevin Kling is a fine way to kick off the week. Listen, and take heart.
If our show site were a magazine, this would be the pull quote.
A Presbyterian minister's favorite spiritual music comes not from the sanctuary or Sunday morning choir, but from Saturday night taverns with Patty Griffin, Jennifer Knapp, and Over the Rhine.
For one kid from the Bronx, the story of eating dates only on Christmas Eve takes on special meaning as told to him by his Polish grandmother.
Last fall the idea to visit the family graveyard came to mind for the first time in ages. Día de Los Muertos seemed like the perfect excuse to make the journey. I allowed life and distance to keep me away, however, and I never went.
I am not Latina, but I did develop a strong appreciation for Mexican culture while studying midwifery on the Texas/Mexico border. When I moved home to Georgia, I kept a piece of Mexico in my heart. Since the first idea to celebrate my ancestors Mexican-style entered my mind last year, the urge had only grown stronger. So as November approached this year, I resolved to do it. I invited my two sisters. One said she’d bake a casserole and we planned to picnic at the cemetery. On October 31st, they both cancelled on me. I was determined, however, and went anyway.
An image of the Buddha is carved into a banyan tree at Wat Mahathat in Thailand. (photo: McKay Savage/Flickr, cc by 2.0)
The name Buddha means “awakened one.” This is the story of how a young man became the Buddha. As with all ancient tales, we can’t know what is to be taken literally and what is to be taken metaphorically. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m inspired by his story either way.
A mass of people dress up for the Toronto Zombie Walk. (photo: Sam Javanrouh/Flickr, cc by-nc 2.0)
For some reason we’re experiencing a zombie moment. From zombie crawls across the globe to the record-breaking 11 million people who tuned in to watch the season premiere of AMC’s The Walking Dead, zombies are seemingly everywhere this season. Even sober institutions like The Centers for Disease Control are using zombies to teach us about disaster preparedness.
Every day is the anniversary of something. The date on the calendar ripples with other dates, other stories.
It’s now a month since the tenth anniversary of 9/11, when, two days earlier, a dozen of us marched into Manhattan’s Bryant Park wearing somber black vintage clothing, clutching manual typewriter boxes in our hands. Our up-dos and pearls lent us an air of Old New York secretarial efficiency. We were not to appear casual or chatty; we would not be using our cell phones.
When we first took our seats on the plaza, tourists snapped photos as if we were museum specimens. Gradually the first hesitant talkers sat down across from us, then a few more, until the hours passed quickly in an exchange of words and a clattering of keys.