Teresa Clark - Storyteller

It's coming...and I can't wait!!!!!

2012-01-13T14:15:00.004-07:00

Celebrate with a Family Story Slam!

2011-11-26T10:42:00.013-07:00

I've got a great idea for your next family gathering!

But first - Don't Forget you can give a loved one the gift of story this holiday season in a marvelous way. They've lived it, now help them learn how to share it at the Story@Home Conference!

At only $265 the gift package is one sweet deal. Your stories matter! Simply click on the link below and go to the registration tab. Don't forget your Family Story Slam tickets too!

Okay - now for the fun idea for your next family gathering!

Happy Holidays!
Over the coming month or so families from all over will gather together to celebrate their unique bonds, reflect back on experiences shared, and focus on the things that matter most. I’m sure you’ve got some great plans up your sleeve already. I’ve got one more suggestion for you - Celebrate with a Family Story Slam!

We all have them: oft-told family tales we enjoy again and again. But sometimes, they get a little tired and worn out, or the details may fade away into family shorthand. A Family Story Slam is a great way to freshen them up and stir up some good old family competition in the process.

Family Story Slam
You’ll need:
A couple of sets of judges who’ll score the stories on a scale of 1 – 10.
A scorekeeper and scoreboard
A timekeeper with a kazoo or noise maker
Family storytellers
A Fabulous Prize
A Theme Topic such as:
Remember the time?
I’ve never been so afraid!
Wasn’t that funny?
I knew I was in trouble when… – etc.

Here’s how it works.
Put the names of everyone who wants to share a story in a hat. The timekeeper will draw their names one at a time. They’ll have 5 minutes and 5 minutes only to tell their tale. If they go over the timekeeper makes some noise. Now they have 20 seconds to wrap it up. If they fail, the timekeeper lovingly silences them.

Next the judges score the story. There are only 3 criteria: Was it ON TIME? Was it a STORY? Was it on TOPIC? They rate the criteria on a scale of one to ten and call out their scores to the scorekeeper who keeps tally on a board everyone can see.

The winner gets a prize!

Results: A great time had by all and you’ve given new life to those favorite family stories.

Note: Advertise this activity before everyone arrives to really fuel the excitement! Love the experience? Be sure to come to the Family Story Slam at Story@Home and bring your story to a brand new audience!

That’s all you need to get the party started, but If you’re interested in knowing more read on.

The Rules

· Story must be true and from your life.

· Story must be told in five minutes or less.

· Story must be told live, without notes.

· Story may be told by one or more people together – but must not exceed 5 minutes.

Tips

Chat over the story with your family.

Clarify your memories.

Compose your story.

(Remember, it’s not a story unless it leads us through an incident that ends in some sort of progress, discovery, or learning.)

Practice your story!

(Remember you don’t get a cheat sheet)

Practice so you can keep it down to five minutes.

(Beware the consequences of going over . . . muwahahah)

Tell it to your plants, pets, spouse, kids or mirror.

(But know they are a tough audience.)

Revise, Rework, Revamp, Finesse

Shave off another two minutes

The Moth of New York City created the Story Slam model. (www.themoth.org)

Have a Ball - A Gratitude Ball

2011-11-21T09:04:00.005-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

I love, love, love this holiday. The food, the family, the gratitude - what's not to love?!!
I wanted to share a fun little tip for sharing the things your family is grateful for. Some of my daughters came up with this at our last family reunion and we had a BALL! ;o)

Here's how it works.
Need:
1 Large Ball
Multiple Sharpie Markers
Family

Throughout your time together everyone draws on the ball the things they are grateful for.
All ages can do this. It's not about artistic ability, it's about thinking what you are grateful for and how to illustrate that. You'll be amazed at how seriously the little ones take this and what they come up with!

At the close of your time together everyone shows what they drew and tells what those pictures mean to them. It's a great way to keep folks busy, get them laughing, and get them talking, without them feeling like they are put on the spot.

Plus, the ball holds the memories long after the gathering is over. Every time you get back together the ball is available for play and remembering. Fun! Fun!

Enjoy! May your week be filled with excellent family moments, heartfelt reflections of gratitude, and yummy food. I hope you have a BALL!

Story@Home for Christmas

2011-11-14T15:49:00.013-07:00

No doubt the Story@Home conference is going to be phenomenal. Every family has stories that need to be told and there has never been such a broad variety for sharing brought together in one place before. Yet, March seems so far away. Don't make the mistake of thinking you shouldn't worry about it until next year!

NOW is the time to plan. You matter - so do your stories! If you could give someone this incredible weekend filled with the power of story for $65 off the list price, would you? Well guess what - You can!!

Package Price: $265
Includes:
Full Conference Registration $79
2 Nights Hotel $198
Story Chat Cards $15.50
Storytelling CD $15
30 Days Blogging/Photo Prompts $12
"Tell Me Who I Am" Book $11.99
Guaranteed iTell Reservation
Gift Wrap
A retail value of $330+

Simply click on the Story@Home link below then go to the registration tab. Don't forget your Family Story Slam tickets too!

Story@Home

2011-10-22T10:10:00.011-07:00

Photo by Carol Rice

There's a running joke in our family that probably sounds pretty ridiculous. Whenever we see anything that looks remotely like a wagon wheel someone invariably says, "Is that supposed to look like a wagon wheel?" It's one of those family short hand tag lines that carry a depth of story behind it. We all break into laughter while non-family members look on, confused. Every family has such love-filled family code.

The stories of our family, and our family history, define us and inform us. Story is the hub of the wheel of who we are. Remove the hub and the wheel collapses. Remove the hub and the remaining parts of the wheel can never be re-connected - until a new story hub is created. Maintain the hub and the connections remain solid and purposeful. It applies to families and it applies to the world. Story is the hub of humanity.

The face of how family history is contained is changing. Social media and the Internet are building up a new interpretation of how we share and learn our family's stories. I'm so delighted and proud to be a part of an innovative conference that triumphs STORY as the hub of all it offers. A unique gathering of masters from the worlds of blogging, family history, and storytelling is taking place in March of 2012 in Salt Lake City, Utah. Like spokes on a wheel these presenters are joining together around the hub of story.

Every presenter is passionately committed to the premise that your story matters, and who you are is important. Whether the story is as fresh as yesterday, a time-honored tale from the past, or somewhere in between each story melds together and creates who you are. Together these presenters will guide participants forward into the wonderful world of harvesting, fine-tuning, and sharing their tales.

I feel so blessed to be a part of all this. It’s not very often in life one gets to be involved in something that feels so epic! The Story@Home conference is hosted by the largest genealogical organization in the world, Family Search International. The conference is sponsored by Cherish Bound, the only on-line publisher in the world dedicated to helping every family create a library of their cherished family stories. It is also sponsored by the Casual Blogger Network, a dynamic network of blogs targeting extraordinary women doing phenomenal things in the normal course of their lives.

These organizations, and the presenters they have invited to participate, powerfully illustrate the reality that the world is beginning to recognize story as the hub of our identity. Strengthen and maintain the hub, and you strengthen the world.

Story@Home
I can’t help but snicker, “Is it supposed to look like a wagon wheel?”

Learn more about Story@Home here:

https://www.familysearch.org/node/1363

http://www.cherishbound.com/blog/storyathome/

Next week – What is a Family Story Slam?

The Harvest

2011-06-16T05:06:00.004-07:00

I get paid to crawl inside people’s heads. I know, it sounds messy and invasive, but it’s true. I’m not a therapist I am a storyteller, a personal-story harvester. My job is to help people discover the meaningful moments of their lives and guide them as they craft those moments into stories they can share. The goal is not necessarily publication. What these individuals do with the results of our time together is totally up to them. Our purpose is to excavate their memories, memories of life’s moments that have influenced the people they have become. Our quest is to craft the memory into something usable, something they can share. How they choose to share is up to them. The sharing may be done in the most intimate of settings, or it may be simply a personal exercise of reflection, or it may evolve into a performance piece. As their story guide I stand ready to walk beside them on the path they have chosen. I may lead them to the path, but they take me into the wood. Every encounter leaves me changed and enlightened. Long after our time together has passed their stories linger with me, their memories still whisper in my head. Their moments have become my moments. I am one person and yet the memories of many swirl within me.

* * *

Maria was fourteen, her memory was more than fresh, it was current.

“I want to talk about the day I became invisible. Have you ever been invisible? It sneaks up on you, at least it snuck up on me. You’d think I’d be more noticed than ever, nope, I’m invisible. I always had tons of friends and was always invited to every party. Most boys love me, but some girls hate me, because I can steal their boyfriends so easily. Then I got pregnant. I kept it secret for a long time. But some secrets don’t stay hidden, they just pop out for all the world see. At first everyone thought I was getting fat, but they could still see me. Fat people aren’t invisible, but pregnant girls are. It started with the boys first. They’d laugh and flirt like they always had then they’d see me rest my hand on my stomach or pull my jacket over my bump and they’d go stone cold silent. Some of them even walked away mid conversation. I’d be like, “Word – wassup?” They’d just keep on walking. The girls weren’t far behind. At first they were all full of advice for me. Telling me how to get rid of it, telling me how to keep it from my parents, telling me it served me right…yeah, they had all sorts of advice. But when they found out I was keeping it, well, it freaked them out I guess. So, they stopped talking to me. They stopped inviting me to parties. They stopped saving me a seat at lunch. It’s like I have a contagious disease. The teachers, yeah, they don’t know what to do with me either. They tried sending me to counseling at first, but they didn’t like my plan. They were real interested when they thought it was my dad’s or some older guys, but once they believed me about who the father was, they stopped wanting to know more. They talked about me dropping out and coming back after the baby was born. It would be ‘easier’ for everyone. I can finish 9^th grade before the kid comes. That’s what’s easiest for me. Then I’ll have the summer to play ‘mom’ and come back in the Fall. Now, I’m just invisible. They don’t call on me. I got kicked off the soccer team. They never ask how I feel or how I am. Yeah, I messed up, I know that, but invisible? That’s just cold. I wonder if that will ever change, I wonder if they’ll ever see me again. Or am I trapped in some weird gray space where no one else knows how to deal? Gray and cold and empty - that’s what it feels like to be invisible.”

* * *

Joe was an old man, his face covered with the kind of wrinkles you get from hard living in the out of doors. He never did tell me his age, but his story provided some clues.

“I remember a blanket I used to sleep under when I was a kid. It was patchwork. Some squares had military insignias and bars. Some squares had pockets. Some were white and some were navy and some were olive green. It was real heavy and sort of scratchy. I don’t know whatever happened to that old quilt. I wish I had it now. My mother used to tuck me and my three brothers in bed every night under that one quilt. It seemed like the nights we were always cold when I was a boy. It seemed like the wind would always blow. Wind and dust, that’s what I remember the most, it was enough to drive you crazy, the wind blew all the dirt away so the crops wouldn’t grow. The wind blew my father away too, when the crops failed he had to go look for work somewhere. He never came back either. Checks would come in the mail sometimes, but we never saw him again. My mother used to sing about good times coming back someday when she’d tuck us in. Her voice was clear and sweet, like her blue eyes. But those eyes always welled up with tears when she’d tuck us in. Her fingers would run over the patches and pockets and stripes on our quilts as she’d tell us about Johnny, and Richard, and Ray, and Frank. They were her brothers, they’d run off to fight in the Great War. The ‘war to end all wars,’ she’d call it. None of them ever came home, just telegrams followed by boxes of worn uniforms and random trinkets. She made the quilt from their uniforms. I guess she got in a lot of trouble for cutting up those uniforms at first. But times were hard and the fabric was warm and it’s not like anyone was getting any use out of the uniforms. Turns out her parents ended up leaving it out so everyone could see it. There was something special about that old quilt. She said she could just about hear the voices of her brothers when she slipped under that quilt. It’s just about the only thing she took with her when she got married. She told us her brothers would watch over us, just like the quilt kept us warm. Her voice would get all misty when she’d talk about them. I sure wish I could remember those stories. I sure wish I still had that old quilt.

* * *

Thomas was seventy-five, but the memory of that summer day hung powerfully before his eyes.

“We were just boys, just silly carefree boys. It was a classic Maryland summer; you know the kind, when it’s hot and humid to the core. The kind of heat that clings to you, it drips off ya’, ya’ know? It threatens to melt you into mud. I guess it was clear back in the 50’s some time. Yeah, I couldn’t have been more than 11 or 12. My friends and I went down to the canal to swim. We were just going to jump in and cool off, but there was this old man sitting on the bank right where we wanted to get in. He was all dark and shriveled up like a raisin. He wore thick metal braces on his twisted legs. He must have had the polio. Times were different back then. Sure, we’d been taught to respect our elders, but this was a black man. We should have known better but boys seem to soak up the attitudes of their time, ya’ know? This was back in the day when we still had separate drinking fountains, separate entrances, and separate bus seats. Why couldn’t we have separate canal spots too? He was in our favorite spot and that just wouldn’t do. It was our spot, not his, he shouldn’t have been there. So we started scooping up mud clods and throwing them at him. Have you ever seen Maryland mud? It’s rust red and stains your hands and knees. It’s real thick and holds tight to whatever it touches. The mud clods stuck firm around his braces and naked back. When I close my eyes I can still hear the sticky clumps slapping up against his flesh. Truth be told, it haunts me still. In no time at all he was covered. He never said a word, just looked at us with deep set, sad, brown eyes. The weight of that sorrow slumped down from his eyes and across his cheeks, pulling his skin down with it. Everything sagged like mud, his eyes, his cheeks, his timid smile. He pulled and pushed at the mud, smearing it more than removing it. When he stood up and tried to wipe off the mud, we stopped throwing the clods, but not our words.

“Go away old man, we don’t want your kind here.”

“Sure hope you’re not here when I come back with my pa. He’ll teach you a lesson, sure.”

He nodded at us as his started to turn away. Then I guess he didn’t like the way the mud felt all twisted around his braces so he waded into the canal. The shallows gave way real fast and he was in over his head in no time. That’s when we realized he was in trouble. It must have been the weight of his braces that pulled him down. His arms seemed strong enough, but they started to flail as his head slipped under the water. Water running red with mud, water so thick you couldn’t see through it. His head came up once, twice, three times and then he was gone, just gone. We stood there with red stained hands waiting and waiting for him to rise back up, but he never did.

It drove our mama’s crazy, the way we came home wet and dripping with mud and water. They bemoaned how hard it would be to get us clean. We striped off our overalls before we ever came in the kitchen. We scrubbed and scrubbed at those red stains, but they wouldn’t come out. I guess there’s just some stains that never come out.”

* * *

Memories are powerful and they have an incredibly long shelf life. Most of the people I work with end up focusing on thoughts and images they had not considered for a very long time. Something happens during our time together to trigger the recollection. Frequently the renewed memory opens them up to a deeper understanding about themselves and how they view the world.

Many cultures suggest you cannot find peace with a person until you know their story. I have found you cannot dislike someone once you know his or her story. In deed, knowing the stories of those who surround us opens our hearts to forgiveness and tolerance. We become more compassionate through the sharing of personal story. We become more sure of who we are and the values that support us. We become more grounded in seeing the good in this world.

So, the next time you feel frustration rising up within you towards another, take a moment to listen to their story!

Book Review: Tales From a Free-Range Childhood

2011-05-08T08:39:00.004-07:00

Donald Davis.

Merely mentioning the name brings smiles to people's faces and images into people's hearts. That is, if they've been lucky enough to hear Donald tell one of his stories. (www.ddavisstoryteller.com)

If you don't recognize the name, you should. Donald Davis is the author of recently released, Tales from a Free-Range Childhood. (Available from Blair Publishing

www.blairpub.com)

Davis grew up in a different age when children were allowed to run more freely and fill their days in ways no one could schedule (or possibly imagine). Two hundred and thirty pages of unique reminiscences of growing up in a different era comprise this unpresumptuous little paper back. You may be tempted to declare you're not interested, but that would be a mistake.

Davis is a gifted writer and storyteller to be sure, but this is more than a simple biography. Davis at once entertains and enlightens. Whether you're reading about broken bones or old cars or old babysitters, Davis is weaving a spell that must be experienced to be believed. With perfect timing and delightful imagery he invites you into his world. Yet, while sharing tales uniquely his own he opens up a place of unique memory within your own heart. You'll be reading his stories, but you'll be remembering long forgotten moments from your own life.

This is the kind of book you'll read again and again as you share it with family and friends. That's when the magic happens. No matter who you share this book with you're sure to get lots of great memories and moments shared in return. Conversations will open up and for a moment you may just think you're back on grandma's front porch, just shooting the breeze with loved ones.

So what are you waiting for? Curl up with a good book!

Tales from a Free-Range Childhood by Donald Davis.

http://www.blairpub.com/

Somebody's Watching...

2010-10-23T14:54:00.003-07:00

Check out these pictures! They were taken in 1948. The boys in the picture were 18 years old and just graduated from High School. I’m humored by the boys in these photos, both by their youthful exuberance and their charm. (Ignore the fact that one looks like Jake Gyllenhaal – I don’t know who he is - a Gr. Grandfather perhaps?!!)

In the first picture one boy is making an obvious statement by holding up his clear glass soda bottle while his companions hold up dark bottles. In the second picture he’s making an obvious statement by thrusting out his gut and holding the dark glass bottle to his lips. Either picture tells a tale.

These pictures were taken 62 years ago. The boy in question is not even alive any more. He’s left a legacy of children, in-laws, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Each of which have made their own assumptions about the fluid being consumed when they have seen these photos. Truth is, we’ll never definitely know what those boys were drinking and it doesn’t matter. But the suppositions will never die.

There’s an old 80’s song, recently been made popular by Geico Insurance, which contains the line, “I’ve got the feeling, somebody’s watching me.” The song creeped me out when it first came out and the big-eyed little stack of money doesn’t lessen that creepy feeling for me.

Awhile ago I heard Kim Komando (http:// www.komando.com) busting out some rather startling statistics. According to her, 80% of perspective employees check Face Book on every job applicant they receive. Kim went on to say that 1 in 5 teens have texted or emailed some form of nude picture of themselves to others. In addition, 2 in 5 have been involved in some form of explicit or inappropriate texting.

I couldn’t help but contemplate the possibilities those statistics conjure up.

If two 62-year-old photos could stir up assumptions - what on earth will all of those random texts and photos stir up in someone else’s future? There won’t be two old photos in the possession of a handful of people; there will be 100’s of photos for the entire world to see with the mere click of a button.

We live in a world where beauty queens and Olympians are destroyed due to random old photos suddenly surfacing. Yet, still we gleefully post, text, and send away. Even if we’re not being flippant with our images, the possibilities of someone else snagging a picture of you and posting it online are pretty good.

Back in the day there were “mother networks” in every community. They knew whose kids were up to what and they were quick to report to (and support) one another. My mother had such a network. She made George Orwell’s, “1984” prediction of the existence of a “Big Brother” that would watch and record our every move completely conceivable. I swear my mother had spies, she’d know what I’d gotten into before I’d even pulled in the driveway. I learned the best way to avoid the stress was to avoid the inappropriate behavior, because she’d hear about it. However, in my wildest dreams, I never considered that the future “Big Brother” would be a beast we feed and groom ourselves.

Let’s face facts, this technology isn’t going away, those images are out there, never to be retrieved. So, what to do?

IF you don’t want a picture of you posted on the world-wide-web engaged in some questionable activity, then avoid the activity.

IF you don’t want your future boss to know about inappropriate antics you pull in your leisure time, then consider changing how you spend your time.

The pictures will be posted - you’re not magical enough to avoid that.

The only thing you can control is what you choose to do, where you choose to go, and how you choose to be seen.

“I’ve got this feeling…somebody’s watching…” You!

Out Standing in the Field

2010-07-19T13:56:00.002-07:00

It's no secret I love random!

I drove past this field above Swan Valley, Idaho and just had to stop to take a picture. There are no words of explanation really. Just a table, chair, and laundry basket in the middle of nowhere. Now there may be a thousand possibilities for why this is out standing in the field. And believe me, I'd love to hear your ideas, but in the end we'll never really know for sure. It makes me giggle, actually. I can't help but wonder if there's a camera nearby or some kids watching while hiding in the underbrush.

It reminds me of an evening I was driving through Bone, Idaho. I saw a wallet lying in the road with some obvious cash sticking out. I was just about to stop and retrieve it when the setting sun illuminated the fishing line strategically attached to the wallet. My eyes darted along the line only to see two guys plopped in old metal chairs leaning up against the wall of a hole-in-the-wall store (fishing pole in hand) just waiting to tug that line. The joy on their faces was unmistakable.
Life is such a delight! It never ceases to amaze me how creative some people get in living out their humor. A table in a freshly plowed field. A wallet tied to a string. A street sign for a road named "Why Worry Lane" where very few people will ever pass. (Back roads above Palisades, Idaho)

How can you not chuckle to yourself? It just makes the day a little brighter. So to all those randomly humorous people out there who will never know me by name - Thanks for making my day!

Thirty Years!!!

2010-07-03T07:47:00.016-07:00

They say time flies when you're having fun.

Perhaps that's why the last thirty years have flown by!

I've been holding hands with the same guy for thirty years.

Thirty years ago today I married my best friend. We were oh so young, and quite the doe-eyed optimists. We didn't know all that life had in store for us but we were absolutely sure we wanted to face it all together.

If someone had sat us down that morning and told us every joy and sorrow and trial and triumph we were going to face together I would have never believed it.

Life is certainly not dull.

Yet, today, I am still married to my best friend. I recognize this is an incredible blessing and gift. We still like each other's company best. We are still absolutely sure we want to face life together. How cool is that?

I am pleased to report that there has never been a day in the past 10,950 that have not included a shared laugh and our sharing the words, "I love you." I still get a kick out of the fact we have kissed over every state line we have crossed.

I absolutely love what we have created together. Our growing family is such a delight for us. They share our passions for God, nature, laughter, and each other's company.

Yep, it's a good life. I'm a happy wife. And I can't wait for the next thirty years.

Going…Going…Gone!

2010-06-26T14:57:00.004-07:00

I passed this random tree on a back road in Utah last month. There’s no homes for miles, but for some reason numerous people decided to toss their shoes into this tree. The tree and the shoes captivated me. Why? When? Did they do it all at the same time, or did one person start it and then others followed? Did they even really know each other? Did they all go away bare foot? Are they still? Have others driven by, pulled over, and thrown their own shoes into the mix? I’ll never know, and that’s part of the allure. It’s a mystery and I love mystery.

However, there are those who don’t like mystery. In deed, some are driven crazy by it. As a result, people have suggested I can’t simply disappear off Face Book, as it would be a mystery and thus lead to unending speculation.

It’s true I am leaving Face Book. Let me explain.

There is an ancient Arabic proverb, which states, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” I could spend all day debating that little nugget of wisdom. However, there’s really only one reason I bring it up and that is to suggest that in the Face Book world there may be a place for a new proverb.

‘The friend of my friend may be my enemy!’

In a world where employers are checking out employees on Face Book you simply can’t be too careful. My profession frequently takes me into the presence of minors.

Whether mainstream or at-risk, students deserve safety and protection. As a result, running background checks on me (the resident storytelling teaching artist) are a pretty common part of the hiring package.

I can’t control, nor am I accountable, (nor do I want to be) for the actions of my friends or their friends. Yet, any inappropriate actions of any of my friends or their friends etc. may be linked back to me and consequently affects my reputation and my ability to be hired. When it comes to the safety and protection of minors you can never be too careful.

I’ve struggled with how to handle this. I like being in contact with my friends! However, I need a degree of separation when it comes to my online presence. Thus, I am leaving Face Book.

You can still keep in contact with me, and I hope you do, by following and commenting on this blog. Sign up for the RSS feed or email notification. I don’t know how consistent I’ll be, but I promise to give it a good try. Any time you post a message to me here, I will receive it.

However, if you’re under the age of 18 I won’t respond back. It saddens me to take such a drastic measure, but I am protecting us both. After all, isn’t that what good friends do?

Be safe, be well, and check in from time to time!

Teresa Clark

New Trick for an Old Dog

2010-05-06T08:41:00.003-07:00

They say you can’t teach on old dog new tricks. So explain this.

I hate tomatoes – fresh ones anyway. I love sun-dried tomatoes. I love stewed tomatoes – especially in soup. Ketchup is my friend. Salsa is awesome. However, fresh, raw, sliced tomatoes trigger my gag reflex. They always have. Because of this I have sworn off such offerings for nigh on 50 years. I've just slipped the nasty things off to the side.

Until….

I started making fresh salsa about a year ago. It’s actually more like pico de gallo (or ‘teresa de gallo’ as my daughter’s call it). But I’ve played around with ingredients and seasonings until I achieved perfection. Turns out the best and freshest version has diced, raw tomatoes in it. Not too hard to accept because the nasty, slimy centers are still removed. It’s not like I started liking tomatoes all of as sudden.

Until….

We went to visit my son and his wife and she served us BLT’s. (Bacon-Lettuce-Tomato Sandwiches.) I had been watching my husband obsess over BLT’s all month. He had made it look so delicious I had told myself I was going to try one next time I was offered one. And suddenly, I was being offered one. So, I ate it – and guess what?

I LOVED IT!!! My husband has made me three more in the past two weeks. Isn’t that laugh-out-loud funny?

So yes, you can teach an old-dog new tricks! You can make a new discovery every day. You can face your fears a little bit at a time until you master them. You can delight in being wrong!

I’m hungry…I think I’ll go have a BLT.

Wind in My Hair

2010-04-18T17:09:00.007-07:00

Life is a roller coaster! Which is good, because I love roller-coasters! Not the new-fangled loop-the-loop numbers mind you. Nope, I love the old-school, rickety, wooden ones. I love the click-click-clack-click sound they make as you are being hauled to the top. I love the wind as it zips through my hair and the stomach lurching drop of that first descent. I love the wobble at the curves. I remember once I went to King's Dominion in Virginia with some friends. They've got some awesome wooden roller-coasters we rode over and over and over again. That night, while I lay in bed with my eyes closed, I re-lived every screaming twist and turn. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the feel of the wind in my hair.

So yeah...life is a roller coaster. The past few months have certainly been illustrative of that. We've had all sorts of multi-generational major surgeries in our family that have forced us to face fear in the face and let go and trust God. We've lost my husband's feisty, life-loving, big-hearted, incredibly supportive mother. We've moved a daughter into her college dorm, traveled every other week since January, and moved furniture (and 2 pianos) all over the West. And I finished out my first semester as a full-time college student - with straight A's.

I'm definitely feeling the wind in my hair!

I confess it's gotten to be a bit taxing. Okay, let's just say I fully embraced "whoa is me" for a minute or two. It's been hard. I allowed myself to feel bone tired and soul-weary. I keep saying I'm looking forward to "normal." But every time I do, there's this little voice in my head that whispers, "This is normal." So, if this is "normal" then I better sit back and enjoy the ride! Because, I'm just going to keep on riding it over and over again.

So, I've got a few goals I wanted to throw out to the world. I figure if I scream it

from the top of the ride I'll hear it screaming back at me in the whistling wind of my next descent.

I am going to appreciate the click-click-clack sound of change. I am going to

thrill with the view from the top and embrace the stomach dropping thrills of the descent. I am going to scream - not with fear - but with the pure exhilaration of life. I am going to run to the front of the line to keep on riding the ride. And when I close my eyes at night and re-live every twist and turn I am going to fall asleep with a smile on my face as I remember the feel of the wind in my hair.

Trails in the Mist

2009-07-09T14:39:00.015-07:00

" In wildness is the preservation of the world."
- Henry David Thoreau

A friend and I recently bemoaned the fact the world is growing too loud. Not the actual planet - the society we live in. There is so much noise around us. Everywhere you turn media is pounding into your head. From restaurants offering up the latest news via a bevy of flat screen TVs to the cell phones tweeting in our pockets and everything in between there is noise and interference and static. We wondered how anyone could feel joy or peace when they are so removed from the beauties of nature and the wonders of good conversation.

Later, my daughter informed me the people around her were fighting via text messages...while sitting in the same room! I'm all for utilizing the marvels of technology, but give me a break! When was the last time you turned everything off and went outside? It's pretty phenomenal out there - give it a try!

"I am well again, I came to life in the cool winds
and crystal waters of the mountains..."
- John Muir

Getting away from the noise is only part of the reason for seeking a respite in nature. Nature renews us, lifts us, empowers us to face another day. We walked to this water fall one summer day in June. There are those who would say the day was ruined because of the rain and fog. I was entranced. The renewing power around me was tangible. My heart grew light, my skin was caressed, my eyes were gifted with wonder after wonder. My soul cried out with the desire to spend more time than I could allow.

"...It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of the air, that emanation from the old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit." - Robert Louis Stevenson

The day ended far too soon. I vowed I would return. Not perhaps to that exact place, but I will return to the light and shadow of the deep wood. I will walk again under the healing embrace of the trees. I will revel in the pristine blue of the sky and dance in the rain when it comes again. I will fill my heart with images to carry me through the noise and confusion of some future day. I will do all of this.

Will you?

What Would You Do?

2009-03-24T17:29:00.004-07:00

I watched a powerful video today about the rapidity of shift in our lives. Check it out at http://www.flixxy.com/technology-and-education-2008-alt.htm then ask yourself this:

What if it all ENDS tomorrow?

If the world-wide-web crashed, if TV and satellite and all technology ceased, what would you do? Imagine looking up from your blackened screen into the fear-filled eyes of the masses. Would your thumbs twitch? Would your family sit in stunned silence?

What would you do?

A young mother asked me that very thing recently. She wanted to cause me concern about the loss of data I have stored online. Things like photographs and online books and more. I believe she expected me to panic. Actually, I found the idea rather invigorating. Without a moment’s hesitation I responded, “Wouldn’t that be wonderful! Sure images and data would be lost, but no failed technology can rob me of my stories unless I stop sharing them. My life’s memories are intact as long as I take the time to reflect on them and share them. If the internet failed, I’d be the expert on hand to help everyone learn what I already know - storytelling is the essence of humanity.”

I went on to glory in the idea of families sitting around the dinner table talking. I waxed nostalgic about the return of visiting neighbors clustered on front porches, and the whispered gossip sessions over back fences. The young mother’s eyes got a little dreamy. “I’ve never experienced any of that, wow, what would that be like?”

“Why don’t you find out,” I replied, “In fact, I dare you to try.”

Sometimes, I feel like Don Quixote chasing windmills when I talk about storytelling. There’s been a renaissance over the past 30 years or so in regards to the importance of storytelling. Storytelling festivals have popped up all over the country. Professional storytellers can be found in every state in the union. In deed, storytelling has come to be recognized as an art form. I embrace and applaud all of that. Yet, storytelling as a life skill and core principle of family togetherness has slipped through the cracks.

Family time has devolved into a rush of timelines and orchestration of schedules. Meals are grabbed on the run, or in front of the TV. Communications have collapsed into texted chore charts and check ins.

What if it all ENDS tomorrow?

Do you ever find yourself feeling sad or lonely in a crowded room? Have you had days when you realized no one looked you in the eye, or stopped long enough to listen to how you really are? Do you ever feel like life is zooming by so fast you can’t catch your breath, more or less remember a single thing about yesterday?

Stop. Breathe. Close your eyes and take a moment...

What if we all decided to take a stand? What if we reclaim the family dinner and return to being fully present when our children want to talk about what happened at school and who they have a crush on and who broke their heart? What if, instead of firing off an angry email to those who we disagree with, or who have hurt the ones we love, we sat down and really talked? What if we declared technology free zones once a month, once a week, or once a day where whatever we did had to involve the sharing of story?

Imagine the impact of introducing the up and coming generation to the indescribable joy of listening to some one else’s story.

In a world where WW II vets are dying at the rate of 1000 per day we can’t afford to imagine, we have to act. Think of all that is being lost each time the coffin lid closes over the wrinkled old face of someone people have stopped listening to.

I’m not suggesting we stop technological progress. I’m not presuming we can block the shift. I’m suggesting we make sure we don’t discard our human connectivity in the midst of it all.

After all…the power has gone out before, it will go out again. Will you be ready with a good story?

I can help.

Contest Winner Announced!

2009-03-23T07:31:00.002-07:00

Congratulations to Carolyn Stearns! Winner of the "Family Chat" card contest. The winner was chosen through random selection. (i.e. my 11 month old grand-daughter pulled a winner from a pile of numbered slips of paper in my hand.)

All of the entries were excellent and I thoroughly enjoyed them. (You can read them too - see the comments from my post: The Most Important Things in Life) Thanks to everyone who entered. Keep checking back, I'll be launching another contest soon.

Remember as you go through your day that things my not be as they appear. Take this old house for example. At least, I always assumed it was an old house, until I actually went inside. Then I discovered it was an old school. Former students (or their children and grand children) have visited the abandoned structure over the years and scribbled memories on the walls. There are tales of children riding to school mounted three & four to a horse, or x-country skiing to school in the winter, there's random poetry, regret for neglect, and yearning for bygone days. I've always been entranced by this structure and it's unique location, but once I knew part of its story I cared even more. (You can see more pictures at my post: The Power of a Personal Tale)

Look around...are there people or places you pass every day that you think you know? Have you stopped moving long enough to learn their story? Make today the day you step beyond the assumptions!

What's Most Important in Life?

2009-03-03T14:25:00.002-07:00

There's nothing that warms my heart more than shared laughter and smiles amongst those I love.

Yet, sometimes the trials of life dampen or block the joyous moments. That's when I roll up my sleeves and take charge!

It happened last summer. My daughters and I decided it was high time we got their father into the woods. His medical conditions made this a bold goal, but we were determined. We loaded up the camping gear and Dad, and headed for the forest. There would be no hiking or boating this trip, but that didn't mean we couldn't find laughter and joy!

We were essentially grounded, so we built a nice fire and sat around it instead. "What are we going to do now? This could get real boring, real fast," our patient declared. Undaunted we pulled the "Family Chat" cards out and started asking questions. To say our patient was resistant would be an understatement. But we would not be swayed...it only took a few cards before he got into the spirit of it. We were 50 cards, three stacks of wood, and well past midnight when we finally stopped laughing and sharing enough to call it a night. It's an evening we all reflect back on fondly. A night filled with story and discovery, laughter, warmth and joy.

I want everyone to have such moments! Let's start right now. Look at my previous post. There's a picture of a chat card - take a moment to reflect on the question then post your response right here. Don't forget your email address and you'll be entered to win a set of "Family Chat" cards for yourself! Hurry - this contest ends March 17th.

I can't wait to read your stories!

Family Chat - Rediscovering What I Know!

2009-02-28T14:51:00.005-07:00

Have you ever noticed that we continually forget and relearn and forget and relearn?

This is the tale of such a journey.

I know storytelling is the life blood of families. I know we make a better world each time we take a moment to listen to the memories of the people we love. But sometimes, the busy crazy moments of life get in the way. And sometimes, life takes your breath away and you don't know what to say.

That's how I felt last week. We almost lost my mother. There were a few days when I wondered how much of her we would be blessed to keep. There were a few days when she didn't recognize us or understand what was going on around her. Blessedly, that situation changed and she began to respond and remember. That's when I forgot everything I knew. I was at a loss for words! What do you say to a loved one after such an experience? I found myself staring more than I was talking.

Then I remembered the Family Chat cards in my bag. I pulled them out and suddenly the awkward silence was filled with memory - her memories.

I'm not claiming they cured her, but I am claiming they cured me! As soon as the warmth of cherished memory cascaded over my soul I regained my footing, I caught my breath and I listened with delight.

Susan Klein reminds us, "If you were stripped of all you own, the one thing you would still have would be the stories of your life. Knowing that means also knowing that our life stories are sacred possessions."

There's no time like the present - start listening and paying attention to the stories of life found in your family - start honoring those sacred possessions!

The Power of Story

2009-02-19T13:14:00.005-07:00

At first glance you would know Heather was different. Her lips and cheeks were chapped from mouth breathing, constant watery eyes, and runny noise. Her body was slightly twisted and her gait was jerky. Her voice was husky and strained. No one anticipated she would enjoy, or thrive during, my 7th grade storytelling residency.

The theme of the residency was Storytelling Builds Communities. While clustered in groups, students were led through exercises which inspired the sharing of personal experiences. Groups were specifically designed to place students in new circles of people they didn’t usually hang out with. Heather ended up in a group well beyond her comfort zone, but when she started telling her stories they listened. There was a moment when she actually paused in wonder – because they were hanging on her every word! Throughout the week the size of the circles grew until the final day of the residency they told in front of their entire class. Heather had originally announced she wasn’t going to take a turn, but after being encouraged by her original group, she took the stage. The class loved her story. They laughed at all the appropriate moments and cheered loudly at the end. Heather beamed.

The final moment of the residency was a storytelling assembly in front of the entire student body. 10 students of the core group of 60 were selected to perform. Heather was one of those. There was a hushed silence as she took her slow and jilting steps towards the stage. A collective gasp rose up from the audience when she almost fell on the stairs. But Heather kept going. She took a moment when she reached the microphone to look out over the student body. This was a tough audience for any storyteller – Kindergarten through Eighth grade. But Heather owned the moment. The story she told was of her most embarrassing moment. Her pacing was excellent, her delight in the humor was obvious, and the crowd loved her. When she ended her piece they exploded in applause. Heather beamed and smiled from ear to ear then rose her clasped hands above her head like a champion athlete and soaked it all in.

It’s a moment I’ll never forget, but I believe the sweetest moment came after school. Heather was outside waiting for the bus with a cluster of students circled around her. They were reveling in her moment and telling her how incredibly cool she was. There’s only one word for the expression on her face – priceless.

I believe this transformative moment will be cherished not only by Heather, and I, but by the teachers and students of her school because they were given an opportunity to see past her disability into her heart.

That is the power of story!

Cherish Bound's “I’m An Author” program can bring that transformative power to your schools. I'd love to tell you how.

Follow this link to learn more:

http://www.videoutah.com/videofiles/CB/CherishBoundSchool.mov

Never Forget - Never Be Forgotten

2008-10-21T13:46:00.007-07:00

This summer I took the opportunity to go for a walk with friends in the Smoky Mountains. We came to an old cemetery far off the beaten trail. It enchanted me.

Then I found a tombstone that rocked my soul. Granted the silk flowers are faded, they could have been there for 20 to 30 years or more. But this child died in 1879! Somewhere along the way, the story of this child was told so well that she was remembered and honored over a hundred years after her death. What a remarkable testament to the power of love and memory.

Never underestimate the incredible influence of shared memory to keep those we love and those who have gone before us alive in our hearts.

Given my experiences this year with personal story and my moments of reflection in this graveyard I can’t help but believe I am on the right course with Cherish|Bound. While I know full well the best way to share a story is face to face, I also know it’s not always possible. Now, more than ever before, we need tools to help us remember and be remembered. Our world moves at such a frantic pace that we sometimes go days without connecting with the ones we love. Most people will never tell a story from the stage. Yet everyone needs to know they are valued and loved. Everyone needs to know they are an important part of the story of our lives. Everyone needs simple tangible reminders that their time on this earth has mattered.

Picture this: Chaos reigns as wrappings are torn off and squeals of delight fill the room, except in one corner all is calm. Grandma has stopped unwrapping gifts and is reading a book! Eyes misty, a smile lingers on her lips as she looks across the room towards you. Your eyes lock as she tries to whisper a thank you. Words fail her - instead she clutches the book to her chest as tears spill over her cheeks. The room falls silent as all stop to watch this tender scene. Realizing she has their complete attention, Grandma opens the book and begins to read. Gifts are put aside as everyone leans in to hear the story.

Obviously, this is no ordinary book! It's a Cherish|Bound book created just for her. It’s filled with stories and images custom selected to honor her. This is not a fictional tale, it can really happen - I've seen it!

That’s why I’ve aligned myself with Cherish|Bound. They’ve got the tools you need to find, capture and share the most priceless moments of your life. This is more than a picture book, more than a digital scrap book – this is a STORY book. From story creation to publication I'm committed to helping you succeed! NOW is the time to create the books that will lead to magical gift giving moments.

Visit www.cherishbond.com then email me at teresaclark@cherishbound.com and I’ll get you started on creating your customized story books today. It’s not too late to make this holiday season be the one everyone remembers!

Never Forget - Never Be Forgotten

The Power of a Personal Tale

2008-10-21T09:28:00.014-07:00

There’s an ongoing debate in the world of professional storytelling. It regards the use of personal story vs. sticking to the ancient folktales. The argument goes that the folktales have endured for centuries – thus they are tried and true – simmered down to the essence of what a tale should be - and are consequently most powerful for learning and telling solid story structure.

I agree they are powerful tools to use and maintain in the quiver of every storyteller. Most of my residencies and festival performances begin with such tales. However, I have come to believe that there is a hunger in the world that must be fed by personal tales. Perhaps it’s due to the lack of front porches and traditional sit down dinners, but it seems few are being heard or listening anymore. Humans are social creatures. If the opportunity to share personal experiences is blocked - community is harmed. This isn’t merely supposition on my part it’s based on actual experience.

I was performing at a festival accompanied by my 20 something daughter. I’d told folktales throughout the festival with positive results. I was feeling good about my performances, until my daughter looked at me and said, “When are you going to tell what you’re best at? When are you going to tell them a personal story?” I was somewhat taken aback, but I decided to listen to my story-savvy daughter. My next set I told a personal tale. This is the performance where people rose to their feet! From 3 year olds to 90 year olds, audience members lined up afterwards to thank me for sharing such a moving piece of my life with them. I was stunned.

I decided to take this exercise into the class room. Every residency I have done this year has been focused on telling personal tales. I’ve seen storytelling transform lives before, but nothing like this! The stories I’ve heard are amazing. I’ve heard a former gang member share the moment he realized his choices were destroying the friendships he cared most about. I’ve witnessed a pregnant fourteen year old tell how the day she became pregnant was the day she became invisible. I agonized with a student who told of a field trip to court the day her father was on trial. I’ve mourned with a 12 year old who shared the details of her grandma’s passing. I could go on and on.

My point is this. Everyone has experiences they need someone to listen to. Everyone has a vast supply of memories pushing at the floodgates to be shared. I’ve found starting the novice storyteller out with the sharing of personal tales has empowered them to begin in a place that is comfortable. I’ve also found that real community and trust is created when beginning storytellers share their lives with each other. Later, when they move on to folktale, they are better suited for guiding one another because of the trust that was formed before.

Ultimately, I think this is the way folktales evolved. Personal experiences shared within intimate circles which had staying power expanded and evolved in the retelling until they crossed continents and cultures and became traditional tales. Could it be the personal stories of today will become the folktales of tomorrow? Could it be the fabric of a successful community is woven first from the thread of personal story? I believe the answer is yes.

Everyone has stories they need to tell – let me help you tell yours!

Tell Me A Story

2008-10-16T13:10:00.010-07:00

I was caught off guard by what I saw when I entered the 6th grade class room. 29 students looked up at me with eager anticipation, 1 student sat behind a wall. It was a make shift cubicle made from foam – core. It wrapped around his desk so he could see nothing from the front or to the sides. I’d never seen this before!

Every residency I lead begins with storytelling performance. The heart and soul of the power of storytelling is not just in the listening. The connections are made through the eyes and the heart. You may hear a good story, but the power of storytelling is not fully felt if you cannot make eye contact between the teller and the listener. I was not prepared to sacrifice this vital piece of my performance, so I requested the wall be removed. There was concern voiced by all the adults in the room. Jake had a habit of making inappropriate comments and actions and it was felt this wouldn’t change simply because I was telling a story. I implored them to let me try. The wall came down accompanied by several threats.

I knew what would happen, but they didn’t. The magic of storytelling is that it fully engages the imagination. Frequently, the student most likely to act out is the student most impacted by storytelling. Their powerful imaginations which often lead them into trouble are fully engaged in the imagery of the story. They forget to act out, because they are immersed in the pictures within their mind’s eye. In other words, they are swept away.

Jake was loyal to me from that moment on. He loved the storytelling and would work diligently on his tasks in order to be able to hear more stories. Even his work improved. Towards the end of the residency his teacher showed me a copy of his first draft and final draft of the story he’d chosen to tell and write. Not only was it more detailed and creative, the penmanship was dramatically improved. The teacher told me, “It’s obvious he’s really taken pride in this work, this is so amazing.”

I’m not suggesting that storytelling cured Jake’s problems, though I do think it opened some possibilities for him. I know the entire process had a transformative impact. At the end of my final day with Jake he handed me a picture he had drawn filled with flames and graffiti style writing which said, “We Will Miss You.” Then he looked at me with sad honey-brown eyes and asked, “Who will see me when you are gone?” The question took my breath away. I couldn’t leave him thinking the difference had been me. So we chatted about his successes of staying free of the wall during my residency. We identified the positive behaviors that had allowed him to stay engaged. Then I challenged him to continue those and reminded him that it was up to him to be seen.

While few students will be forced to sit behind an actual wall, I know there are many who stand on the other side of unseen walls. I’ll keep using my art to transform their lives and bring those walls down.

Advocacy

2008-03-20T17:34:00.004-07:00

Advocacy - working passionately on behalf of a particular idea.

Years ago, I attended my first National Storytelling Conference. A lone girl from Idaho checking out a new community, I came with no friends or traveling companions. Late my first night on site I stumbled upon a room full of harried volunteers stuffing conference binders so they would be ready for the official start the next day. Up until that instant I had assumed the organization was a well oiled corporate machine - not a hand full of over worked and under appreciated staff and volunteers. It was a transformative moment for me. I stayed to help, and I’ve been doing so ever since.

Previously in the evening I’d heard others grumble and murmur about this short coming or that failing of the organization and the people running it. The rumors and discontent pounded over me like a raging water fall. I was stunned and disheartened. For a moment I bought in to the rumors, until I walked into that room. What I found was a collective of passionately committed people, warts and human failings and all, sacrificing self for the benefit of all.

Standing under a raging waterfall can kill you - stepping back to take in the larger view can open you up to breathtaking vistas. The hero’s journey is never one of ease. Indeed, challenges shape the hero. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go over the years when things didn’t go smoothly. Why quit? Why not stay and work to facilitate change? I don’t understand, I never will.

“Be the change you wish to see in the world” - Mahatma Gandhi

Education & Production

2007-09-04T20:04:00.004-07:00

Who is that? Well, believe it or not - it's me!
I've fought the good fight, but I've decided the time has come to let my true colors show. No more hair dye, no more battle. I've never done anything so empowering!

And now we'll move on to
Education and Production.

Let's talk about Education first.

For years I've served as a Teaching Artist in schools. Storytelling is my art and my passion. Now, I not only guide students through the process of storytelling, I help them write and publish their own books! Through the I'm An Author program students can experience the total process from orally telling their tale to the printed word and published project. I didn't think I could love what I do any more than I already do - but this has added an entirely new dimension to my residencies!

Watch this 5 minute DVD to find out more:
http://www.videoutah.com/videofiles/CB/CherishBoundSchool.mov

From the page to the stage my storytelling residencies will get
your students writing and telling their stories! Book a residency
with Teresa Clark today.

And now for Production!
The wonder doesn't stop there! I can help anyone find, capture and share their stories.
I can't tell you how many times people have left my performances saying they have a
head full of memories, but no way to share them. They fear public performance, so they
walk away convinced their stories will never be told. Yet, I truly believe everyone has
stories that need to be told. Now - I can help you! If you're looking for a way to get
your family talking, or looking for a tool to rebuild a relationship with someone you
love - there's no better tool than story. It's been said the shortest distance between
two people is a story!  I'd love to show you how to tap into the power of story today.

Watch this 5 minute DVD to find out more:
http://www.videoutah.com/videofiles/CB/2005CherishBound.mov

Find out more about Cherish Bound by clicking on the "What is Cherishbound?" link to the right above.

Performance

2006-11-03T20:26:00.007-07:00

Looking for something new or different at your next office party, conference, festival, family gathering, or school? Think of me! Customized workshops & programs are available upon request. Assemblies are also available on a broad range of topics involving history, folktales, animal tales, and life's experiences.

Performance.....what can I say? Far better than explaining what a performance is - why don't you just visit this link and watch me in action!

http://www.videoutah.com/videofiles/CB/frogchild_story_web.mov

What Do I Do?

2006-09-20T14:30:00.001-07:00

Let me start with what I don't do!

I do not offer dramatic readings. You will not see me in front of a crowd with a book in my hand. It's funny, this is actually a hard concept for some to grasp. I can't tell you how many times a year people tell me, "Oh, I really enjoy your readings." I have to chuckle, what else can I do?

I think part of the confusion stems from folks not knowing how to describe what they have experienced. One 4th grader put it to me this way,
"When you were talking, I felt like I was watching a movie!"

You see, if I am doing my job well, I disappear as the story evolves and your mind is filled with imagery tailor-made for you by your life's experiences. It's a public performance art with deeply intimate impact. It's a life skill with incredible communicative powers. It's just plain fun.

Quite simply, I tell stories. Yet, there is so much more to it than that!

Essentially my involvement with storytelling can be broken into four parts.

Performance

Education

Production

Advocacy

My next few posts, I will spend some time exploring each part.

My Inspiration?

2006-09-13T15:00:00.005-07:00

The groundswell source of all my dreams starts at home, with those I love.

Not only all those who have gone before me, but those who stand by my side, and those who follow.

In a word ~ Family!

Indeed, I am twice blessed.
My closest friends - those that I trust with the inner most parts of my soul - are also my family.

They steady me and ground me, they nudge me and encourage me, they give me wings.

How could I not be inspired?

Why Storytelling?

2006-09-13T14:53:00.000-07:00

I thought you'd never ask! It all starts with a story, of course. When I was a teenager I found myself very frustrated in my interactions with people. Everything felt so surface, as if we were going through the motions of interacting, but never really connecting. I was blessed with a core group of friends who pushed beyond the surface connections, but I was fully aware it was a rare gift and not the norm. From that point on I have hungered for those kinds of connections. Not, "Hey, how ya' doin'? - Just passin' through." Rather, those genuine moments when souls step out of their shells and embrace.

For a long time, I searched. I confess I had come to fear our overextended techno-planet lifestyle had led to a numbing of hearts. Then one day, that all changed. I witnessed my first live storytelling performance and my soul leapt within me for joy. There was magic in that space. A collective of strangers shared an intimate journey of the heart. I was hooked. Like a parched traveler I thirsted to know more, experience more, understand more. Within a week I embarked on my storytelling quest of discovery and I have never looked back. My quest is to help people reconnect with themselves, their hopes, and their dreams. I tell so my listeners will remember what it‘s like to feel.

Over the years I have journeyed on this quest I have come to discover the source of my hunger. My Grandma, when I was ready to listen, shared tales with me of her storytelling ancestors. It seems she had a grandma and an uncle that were storytellers. Whenever they came to town, folks would gather from all over the surrounding communities to hear their stories. As time passed others told me of other ancestors who were known as storytellers - seems I'm genetically wired to be a storyteller! It's funny though - truly good storytellers listen more than they speak. It was only in the listening that I was led to understand this gift that dwells within me.

Why Idaho?

2006-09-13T14:23:00.002-07:00

That's the question I hear most often when I announce where I am from. It seems I live in a most misunderstood state. It humors me actually. Believe me I've heard it all!

"Ya'all live in double-wides, don't you?"
- Tennessee

"Oh yea, you must be a pig farmer!" - Texas

"Now refresh my memory, what part of Iowa is that in?" - Washington

Oh, let's not even talk about how many people have decided to simply call me: "Spud." - Oklahoma

Of course there's always this witty little comment, "I - da - ho" (wink-wink) "You - da - pimp?" - Wyoming

So, in an effort to answer this oft-asked question, I've posted a few of the pictures I've taken of my beloved state.

Leading me to ask:

"Why not Idaho?"

Whether watching the sunset from my back door, driving to the mountains, or cruising through a ski resort, I am never disappointed by the sights and sounds I encounter. We've got big sky, fresh air, and clean living - what's not to like?

Yep - I'm Teresa Clark. I'm from Idaho.

Have I got a story for you!