Reading out loud

Storytelling has an oral tradition. And there is something special about being read to. Listening to the voice of another ride the wave of the words from the page, rather than just reading it in your own head. As children we are read to all the time. As adults, rarely. Although, due to technology and other factors, it is making a come back. And I think it is going to make a big difference in our lives.

As a young child, I was blessed to have a father who told stories. The favourite for everyone was the one he would tell you at night, just before you would fall asleep. He would leave you with the beautiful images of a turtle. fish and an owl. Three young, baby animals. The owl, who is scared to fly, looks down from his nest to see a turtle walking by and a fish in a pond. He wants to be like them, and they help him understand his own talents. The moral of the story is about self acceptance. Although, we never realised that at the time. As young children. The lesson was a hidden gift. We were too lost in the magical world dad was bringing to life through his voice. Dad would use gorgeous little onomatopoeias to create the sounds of the turtle walking ‘tapu, tapu, tap, tap, tap’. Or the fish swimming ‘shwish-a, shwish-a, shwishhh.’ His fingers would mimic the turtle’s walk gently on your arm. His hand would capture the movement of the baby fish in the air, it was like the fish was swimming toward your nose as you lay tucked up in bed. Wide eyed. Listening with great attention to this story. A story told nearly every night. A story you begged to hear. There was something magical about it. Something calming in dad’s voice. Something absolutely beautiful and reassuring about life in that tale. It was a blessing. A father’s blessing through his myth and his own folklore as he bid his children goodnight.

And then, suddenly, we became ‘too old’ to be told stories out loud. Unconsciously. Without warning. It was never discussed. Never a formal request. Sadly, the storytelling just simply stopped. And instead, we all read our own books or listened to music before switching off the light to go to sleep. As we became older, dad’s storytelling was, alongside other things, simply a natural attrition. And yet, my siblings and I always talk so fondly of those memories of the owl, the turtle and the fish. That story was an important foundation for each of us in our childhood. Something which provided us with a secure footing in life, even into our adulthood, even if we did not know it as such. Because, this is the power of storytelling. Particularly storytelling told out loud.

I followed my father’s tradition as a mother with young children. They would often beg me for my made up stories. Stories I would tell them, sitting on the edge of their beds. They would choose an animal or two, and I would make up a story on the spot about them. Improvise with whatever fell out of my head and tumbled from my tongue into the night air. For their little hearts to capture and take them into their land of slumber. Smiling as they slept. My animal stories weaving into their dreams.

As a young child. I loved reading my reader out loud to my older siblings, my teacher or my parents. I loved sitting at my desk in school with my cheeks resting in the palms of my hands, my elbows holding my head up as I listened and allowed myself to be magically transported into another world as our classroom teacher read to us at the end of the school day. It was my favourite part of the day.

I have loved reading stories to my children when they were small enough to snuggle into my lap. I loved reading to them as they were older, and listening to them read their own readers. I would visit their classes now and then, to read stories out loud to their classmates. And I am lucky to have had a teenage daughter who as well as enjoying reading herself, created a special evening practice for us to read together, now and then, out loud. To share a book together. Instead of a television show.

There is something special about the spoken word. Writing a book with a friend, we meet weekly and read out loud to each other the chapters we have written. It is a beautiful practice, to be read to. Stories are powerful. And they embody something magical and mythic when they are shared aloud. They harmonise us. Connect us. Heal us. I would always feel this when in the audience watching spoken word. Their is great beauty and power in the ancient oral tradition of storytelling. Something intimate. Neurologically, our brains open us up for deeper emotional engagement which then fires up other parts of our brain, including our sensory motor region, activating neurons like we are actually experiencing what we are hearing. Research has shown this brain activity can last for several days, which is why stories tend to stay with us. And we feel these stories in our body. Releasing oxytocin into our body, the hormone that is made for human bonding. No wonder we can feel exhilarated and connected when listening to a story read out loud. It is a beautiful thing to be part of.

Audio books for adults were previously designed predominately for those visually impaired. But as we have shifted culturally, with the enhancements of technology and the rise in popularity of podcast, the magic of audio books is now for everyone and anyone. I signed up for Audible recently. Downloaded my first book, ‘Becoming Wild’, by Carl Safina. And although I miss holding the book in my hands, and seeing the words on the pages, I am loving being read to. Too tired to read at night, I turn off the light and listen to the author take me on journey. I am lost in the magic of the animal kingdom, of the world of the beautiful, mythical, archetypal creatures, the sperm whales. It is so wonderful to be read to before I go to sleep at night. Like a child. Tucked under the covers.

In England and Wales, nurses are using traditional oral storytelling in psychiatric hospitals. Reporting that it is helping ‘distract patients from stressful situations, reduce anxiety and can be used to de-escalate volatile situations.’ Such is the power of storytelling. Oral storytelling can have an equally positive impact on our mental health outside of these extreme environments. I believe it can improve the mental health of each and everyone of us, if we incorporate it into our everyday lives. Having similar effects on our bodies and minds, as meditating does.

There is a reason parents tell or read stories out loud to their children at night, before they go to sleep. It helps relax them. It makes them feel safe and secure. It helps with language as well as social and emotional development. It bonds them. It activates their brains in healthy ways. Which can last for days. It releases the cuddle and love hormones which turn up when we kiss and hug. I am so grateful that all these beautiful benefits of the traditions of oral storytelling have returned for adults to enjoy. It will foster human bonding, for a better world.