Sharing stories

One of the hardest things about coming back to Sweden, besides not getting a permanent home of my own unintruded and not getting a job for all these years, is the complete uninterest in my experiences. Not only, that I haven't been interviewed in the press and media as expected and what would be self-evident after both writing books, reporting to the UN and various cases, besides my continued Hula-dancing here and business plans, but even more so, none of my old friends and acquaintances have wanted to learn more. Would I not want to learn more about theirs? The culture here is so cold.

It struck me the other day, that it was similar when I returned home after my exchange year in Ticonderoga, NY already in the late 80's and why the fraternity organization IKU was founded - for all of us exchange students to not only keep in touch, but to have friends who have had similar experiences and not minding a little reminisce now and then, without being looked upon as too self-enhanced.

Mankind have always shared stories around the campfire. In Hawai't they're even told through their dances and songs. While we in Sweden too have folksongs and poets, we don't really have a culture of storytelling, at all. I miss that. There is something very precious about sharing an experience we've had with someone - it can both solidify the memory, as well as become a good vent for investigating it from other angles. And least but not last, sometimes we need another person to help release our emotions so we can move forward. It's through our stories, we become.