Story is a human superpower. It’s one of the most subconscious, conscious, and forceful ways that we make sense of our world and the things that happen to us and others. It’s one of the ways we relate to each other. It’s one of the ways we learn and teach. It’s a way used to remember and forget, to advance or stay stuck. Story drives people, cultures, nations, and our day-to-day behavior.
I’m reminded of this during my morning meditation. Reminded that story is my jam (as the kids might say—though of what generation I’m not sure because I’m, as usual, way outside of the current hip loop and behind on relevant lingo). Reminded of what makes me reach for a new book, a previously read book, or for a pen. Reminded that what makes a good story a page turner or a show binge worthy is the oscillation from tension to resolution.
I’m on day five of a twelve-day course on Insight Timer called Release Stress Through Sound & Frequency with Sonic Yogi. The lesson is titled “The Structure of the Story.” And while I’m seated in a comfortable position and focused on my breath, I’m also listening hard to see if what Sonic Yogi says about story matches what I’ve learned and what I know. Listening to see if I can add something new to the story I’ve made in my head about story.
At one point he says, “The basics of tension and resolution lead to an ongoing narrative.” This isn’t new to me, but it’s well said, spot on, and true for real life and fiction.
One of the main questions asked when writing or reviewing a story is: What’s at stake?
What is the character’s deepest desire? What is preventing them from achieving it? What will happen if they never get what they want? What will happen if they do?
If the stakes aren’t high enough, a reader will be compelled to say, So what? And then often go find something that engages them more fully because its stakes are dire.
Effective and engaging stories are those that drive the tension to a fever pitch – either slowly or with soul-crushing speed – and then resolve it. That resolution can be negative for the character or positive.
After I’ve finished the meditation, I continue to mull over the idea of harmony and disharmony, of tension and resolution. I think about stories with dire stakes.
Every apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic story addresses dire stakes.
A few days ago, I attended Ploughshares Fund’s annual nuclear policy forum online which featured talks, Q&A sessions, and panels with people such as House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, President and COO of Nuclear Threat Initiative Joan Rohlfing, Principal Deputy National Security Advisor John Finer, and Senior Advisor for Global Zero and member of the board at Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists Jon Wolfsthal.
Many of the discussions revolved around phrases and subjects like, “nuclear weapons as a way to meet deterrent capabilities,” the “importance of arms negotiations,” the New Start Treaty, and the two issues of Sole Purpose (ie., nuclear weapons as deterrents only) and No First Use (which is a policy in which, as ucsusa.org explains, “the United States would commit to never being the first nation to use nuclear weapons in any conflict, a change from its current policy”).
All these things sounded well and good (Mostly. Well, okay, not really, I’m a fan of total disarmament) until Joan Rohlfing said, “Outdated thinking is holding us back from change.” With that statement the story of how we look at nuclear disarmament suddenly had a new potential ending. I felt a shift in my own thinking and hope for a new way forward. With those words I felt as if I was breathing the first whiffs of fresh air after being in a toxic environment for as long as I could remember. The narrative we’ve told ourselves for the last seventy years suddenly had a new outcome and the lead-in to positive change. A change that would hopefully drive us forward to complete and worldwide nuclear disarmament. Cleary and while acknowledging the complexities involved with nuclear matters, Rohlfing went on to say there are “more sensible approaches to these issues.” The idea of a more sensible approach reminded me of a line of dialogue that comes up in so many stories and which drives me crazy. “I had no choice.” Maybe the line is good for effect. It shows how the character has been pushed into a corner. It shows the rising tension. But it’s not true. There are always other choices. Sure, they may be ones that aren’t appealing or that may end in death or disaster, but there is always choice.
Our outdated nuclear thought model says that the only way to keep the world from ending in a radioactive mushroom cloud is to have the biggest nuclear stick.
What if we moved away from fear, especially the fear of loss of control?
Tension to resolution. Disharmony to harmony.
As she concluded her thoughts, Rohlfing emphasized the importance of hope, saying that when it comes to global conflicts, no matter how dire, we should be able to “fail safe and not fail catastrophic.” She said it’s possible to have “a vision of a positive future,” and that we should update our thinking to go after that.
What a message.
Even if characters, real and fictional, face dire circumstances in order to grow and advance the story, we and they can still create tension and have resolution without having a world-destroying button as our only deterrent to conflict and war.
As another of the panelists said, “Nuclear weapons are things that harm in large and tragic ways.” So why not embrace a vision of a more positive future?
We have the power of story – that’s our superpower – and we can form a narrative that takes us to a much better ending. Whether that is in real life or fiction. As another panelist said, “Arms races are costly in resources and in risks.” We can do better than what we’ve done up to now. We can change the direction of our ongoing narrative. We can imagine a different scenario because we are all master storytellers.
*Pictures taken in 2018 at Oslo's Nobel Peace Center's 2017 Exhibition titled Ban the Bomb
