There wasn't much of a chance that I would get my shoes dusty today as it has been raining on and off for the past two days. I spent an hour at the track, walking the walking, talking the (interview) talk. Tomorrow I get to spend a half hour weaving magic with the Pierce College bunch via video cam. It all blew up in our faces last week, put me in a terrible funk that I was bound and determined to rise above today. I managed to do that and get in a good walk as well.
Talking yourself up during an interview is not too much different than storytelling. For awhile I was well paid performer. I learned from masters, honed my craft in front of school age children and their parents, in front of large groups, birthday parties, for charity, in churches, on the road and once for a llama backpacking group high in the Siskyous. I took those ancient words, those dusty and wonder filled tales up and down the West coast, formed two guilds, amassed a large collection of bound tales and learned enough stories to carry on the magic for at least an hour or more in front of a crowd. It wasn't just fairy tale recitation, I became the story. I learned the art of improv and turned those tired old stories into fresh and imaginative tellings, each one a little different from the last, all the while tuned into my rapt and turned on audience.
It was that storytelling talent that first drove me to get my shoes dusty five summers ago. You had a talent contest to attend and couldn't quite figure out what you wanted to do. I figured I had an easy answer to that: learn a story. I was once again telling fairy tales to my kids after a long hiatus from the art. I would find an old story deep in the folds my brain and then, with the ninos on my lap and couple beers in me, I would spin a few threads of magic, just to keep that font of sweetness and light flowing between me and my brood. So we chatted up your dilemma. Should you sing a song, tell a joke, do something spellingbinding, dangerous or witty? In the end I volunteered to teach you a tale or two. I rounded up folk tale books from the branch's fairy tale collection and got a few moments of your time after work. It was late July, early August. You were on your summer break from home schooling, had time to burn before you went home, and life, for me, almost required the break.
There was a junior high track by the branch, hot and dusty during the day, cool, removed and dusty still in the late afternoon and early twilight. We took those books and put them away in your van and then proceeded to burn up an hour walking round and round the track, you choosing to listen rather than learn, me, well, I enjoyed telling you those old and moldy tales. It was like grad school all over again, it was a first time telling in front of a wide eyed group of youngsters. You were happy for the attention, I was happy for the audience. Synergy at it's finest.
In the end you didn't recite stories or sing songs or tell jokes, instead you passed on the talent show part of the party and had a good time instead. Me, I turned those turns around the J high track in East Bremerton into a reason to keep up the sweating close to home. Instead of going home with dusty shoes right after work I would go home and change into broken down tennies and get dusty on my side of town, instead.
I went out walking today and once again, five years later, I have thirty five or forty pounds to lose. I don't have the impetus that I had before, but, then again, better health and lower blood pressure and clothes that fit just a bit better than they do now is reason enough to walk those hours, to kick up that dust, drop some pounds, spin some stories in my head as I go round and round the track. Tomorrow I have an interview, we'll see if that old storytelling magic of mine is as good as it used to be.
Love, your WHMB
Talking yourself up during an interview is not too much different than storytelling. For awhile I was well paid performer. I learned from masters, honed my craft in front of school age children and their parents, in front of large groups, birthday parties, for charity, in churches, on the road and once for a llama backpacking group high in the Siskyous. I took those ancient words, those dusty and wonder filled tales up and down the West coast, formed two guilds, amassed a large collection of bound tales and learned enough stories to carry on the magic for at least an hour or more in front of a crowd. It wasn't just fairy tale recitation, I became the story. I learned the art of improv and turned those tired old stories into fresh and imaginative tellings, each one a little different from the last, all the while tuned into my rapt and turned on audience.
It was that storytelling talent that first drove me to get my shoes dusty five summers ago. You had a talent contest to attend and couldn't quite figure out what you wanted to do. I figured I had an easy answer to that: learn a story. I was once again telling fairy tales to my kids after a long hiatus from the art. I would find an old story deep in the folds my brain and then, with the ninos on my lap and couple beers in me, I would spin a few threads of magic, just to keep that font of sweetness and light flowing between me and my brood. So we chatted up your dilemma. Should you sing a song, tell a joke, do something spellingbinding, dangerous or witty? In the end I volunteered to teach you a tale or two. I rounded up folk tale books from the branch's fairy tale collection and got a few moments of your time after work. It was late July, early August. You were on your summer break from home schooling, had time to burn before you went home, and life, for me, almost required the break.
There was a junior high track by the branch, hot and dusty during the day, cool, removed and dusty still in the late afternoon and early twilight. We took those books and put them away in your van and then proceeded to burn up an hour walking round and round the track, you choosing to listen rather than learn, me, well, I enjoyed telling you those old and moldy tales. It was like grad school all over again, it was a first time telling in front of a wide eyed group of youngsters. You were happy for the attention, I was happy for the audience. Synergy at it's finest.
In the end you didn't recite stories or sing songs or tell jokes, instead you passed on the talent show part of the party and had a good time instead. Me, I turned those turns around the J high track in East Bremerton into a reason to keep up the sweating close to home. Instead of going home with dusty shoes right after work I would go home and change into broken down tennies and get dusty on my side of town, instead.
I went out walking today and once again, five years later, I have thirty five or forty pounds to lose. I don't have the impetus that I had before, but, then again, better health and lower blood pressure and clothes that fit just a bit better than they do now is reason enough to walk those hours, to kick up that dust, drop some pounds, spin some stories in my head as I go round and round the track. Tomorrow I have an interview, we'll see if that old storytelling magic of mine is as good as it used to be.
Love, your WHMB
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