I watched an episode of LOST last night in which one of the characters told another one that he loved her. There'd been a tension going on for awhile in the show, then other characters entered in as possible love interests further muddying the water, and then this -- an out and out declaration. The fact that love was declared isn't really the most interesting tidbit, though. What I find interesting is that that scene kept running through my mind, unbidden, while I was stuffing laundry into the washing machine. I'd most recently spent about an hour working on the church finances and sending out work related emails. My mind had many other facts and figures it could have settled on. But it settled on a story. It wasn't even a matter of recalling the "fact" in the story (that love was declared) but recalling the whole scene, the trees, the looks on their faces, the words themselves.
Stories are like that. They contain facts, or details. (I should point out that I'm using the word "facts" somewhat loosely here. It's a "fact" that the statement was made in the show. But given that the show is entirely fictional, how much of a "fact" is that really?) But stories contain so much more -- context, images, actions and reactions, feelings. When I was stuffing laundry into the washing machine, it wasn't just an impersonal detail that drifted into my mind, it was a whole feeling that seemed to expand in my chest, an image that flashed before my eyes, a sensation of reliving the moment in all of its joy and angst.
D recently posted something along the same lines (although the concern was rather different). Stories stay with us differently than facts do. They seem to nest within us, occasionally flapping their wings to remind us of their presence.
It's interesting to note that dreams come in the form of stories -- not necessarily coherent stories, but stories all the same. We don't wake up and think, "Wow, that was quite a dream about the periodic table." If we're going to have a dream about science, it will involve action and people and some odd plot line that we'll later try to explain to our spouse or friend or roommate and we'll struggle because we recognize that we're simply not doing the intricate twists and turns any justice. We don't dream in lists or outlines or powerpoint presentations. We dream in stories. And when I wake up, I'll feel that story in a way that I just don't feel facts and figures.
I think facts are important. The right set of facts can build up into a compelling story eventually. But to remember something, to connect with it and respond to it, what works best is a story. That's exactly why the anecdotal evidence is often believed despite facts to the contrary. It's not scientific or precise, but it's compelling. It connects to my being in a way that facts simply don't.
I think Stephen Colbert called that "truthiness".
ReplyDeletePerhaps the reason a story (in the context you described) stuck with you because it appeals to more of your senses then say doing financial work. The more senses an experience involves, the greater fingerprint it will leave on an individual.
ReplyDeleteyes, i think that's a large part of it.
ReplyDeletei don't know that it works this way for everyone. i'd be interested to know if stories "stick" with N's more than they so with S's, for example.
but i also think there's a sense where the story doesn't just appeal to more senses (facts being read to me while i read along is visual and auditory -- watching a tv show is visual and auditory) but it's appealing because it comes with context. context seems to add value somehow. i think our brains are made to see things in context.
when i'm walking down the street and i suddenly smell cherry blossoms, it's noticeable because it stands out in the context of other smells that i've been smelling. so context brings out differences or makes a fact more outstanding.
when i'm dealing with my kids dislike of spanish class and i start hearing from other parents that their kids also hate spanish class, then i've got a fact in context and it doesn't stand out more because it's different but it stands out more because it's been backed up by more agreeing context. so context, in this sense, adds value through similarities.
either way, context seems to fill details out, not that it adds details to the details but it adds *stuff* or weight or something to the details.
when we want to really make a point with a bunch of facts, what do we do? we stick them in a chart that compares the facts with a bunch of other facts -- doing our best to put those facts into a context. i don't know that it works as well as a story, but it definitely shows the value of context.