Africa

This therapeutic story can be used for supporting learning in general, as well as re-learning abilities after a health problem. For example, it can be applied quite beautifully with stroke patients. Obviously, it is also indicated as a story supporting change and developement with anyone who has got a strong biographical link to Africa. Of course, instead of Africa, other continents or regions of the world can be used, in order to adapt the story to individual needs. The reason why I chose the mapping of Africa as the key focus of this story is, that on maps Africa has the shape of a head or scull and thus points to brain functions.

Maps have existed for millennia but there a big differences between modern maps and those from dating from earlier centuries. For example, three hundred years ago, if a publisher printed a map of Africa, it had big white patches on it. ‚Terra incognita’ was marked on it; unknown territory. The coasts were then largely free of such white spots, but the interior of the continent was still a single, large white patch. However, many researchers undertook trips into the heart of Africa and what they learned there, they reported to the cartographers who diligently recorded everything. Land and water routes were discovered. The turns of each river were researched and drawn. The names of the settlements were recorded and the names of the tribes written down. The white patches on the map became smaller and smaller. The parts of the country that were explored and known steadily grew. Finally, the white spots disappeared completely. The whole of Africa was mapped.

To Fail with Enthusiasm

In a professional forum a colleague asked, if anybody knew of a certain therapeutical story. He remembered one that he once heard and thought that it was from a famous storyteller. Until then I never had actually written in this forum but now I wrote on behalf of this colleague’s question that I thought it was the famous story about a tiger. I was quite happy that I was able to contribute something at last until I read the response of another colleague. “I don’t know anything about a tiger”, he wrote, “but I guess you may have thought about the famous lion story”. I instantly sank into a hole three miles deep, full of shame and embarrassment. Now wasn’t that just typical of me and my incomplete knowledge? Shortly afterward I told a friend of mine what had happened, still very ashamed. But he hugged me and said “But you gave that wrong information with much love and enthusiasm”. I looked at him and began to work my way out of that hole.

The Zen Cat

“Mom, in my next life I´m going to be a cat”, my son said, “look at her. She eats when she eats, she purrs when she purrs and she sleeps when she sleeps. She is always self centered”.

“Good idea”, I answered, “ you can try to find out how that feels in this life already, if you want to”. My son glanced at me knowingly and smiled.

Coger zarzamoras

Cuando era niño, a menudo ayudaba a mis padres en el jardín. Me acuerdo de como mi padre me instruyó a cosechar zarzamoras: “Toma una mora en la mano y tira un poco de ella. No fuertemente, solo un poco. Si está madura, cae en tu mano por sí misma. Si no se suelta por sí misma, déjala. Todavía tiene un sabor agrio.”

Le gramophone

J’ai un phonographe à la maison. J’y fais passer des chansons comme « Nur nicht aus Liebe weinen » – Seulement ne pas pleurer à cause de l’amour et « Ich weiß, es wird einmal ein Wunder gescheh’n » – Je sais qu’il y aura un miracle un jour. Zarah Leander chante ça avec sa voix basse – c’est magnifique ! Puis j’écoute la voix de corbeau de Louis Armstrong, et pour moi c’est une rencontre avec lui-même, avec lui tout personnellement. J’écoute Caruso, il chante avec son vibrato depuis la nuit des temps : « O sole mio… ». Leurs voix volent vers moi des rainures du disque, sans électricité. Elles arrivent vers moi comme les voix de ces personnes même. Quand leurs voix retentissent du pavillon, les chanteurs sont des hôtes dans mon temps. Je les rencontre dans la même pièce. Puis le gramophone se tait, leurs voix retournent dans cet autre monde séparé du notre, là où habitent les anciens possesseurs de ces voix.

Explosion

This is a story by my colleague and friend Katharina Lamprecht from Bruchköbel near Frankfurt, Germany…

One day an old Sufi master came through a little village, where just previously a big blast had occurred. In the middle of the village square was a huge hole in the ground and stones and lumps of mud and earth scattered everywhere. „Master“, the people cried, “look at the disaster that happened to us.  The center of our village, our village´s pride and joy, is destroyed. What shall we do?  Please, advise us.” „Dig“, the old man answered. „Dig? But there is already such a big hole. Wouldn´t it be better to fill it up“?
“If you have to overcome an obstacle, there are different ways to do so. You can either ignore it, remove it or use it. You never know if there is a treasure hidden”. Pondering these words, the people began to dig slowly, deeper and deeper until they hit upon a natural spring of pure sweet, delicious water which in time brought trees and flowers to their village square.

El vuelo del águila

No sé si ya alguna vez hayas visto un águila. Claro, en el parque zoológico, pero en eso no estaba pensando. Si uno ve un águila en el zoológico, esa parece sin ganas, cansada y medio dormida. ¿Pues qué debería hacer? Un águila fue creada para volar, y eso no lo puede hacer en una jaula, en todo caso no verdaderamente. Lo que a mí me impresiona de las águilas es su fuerza y como la manejan. Se podría pensar que un ave tan grande también aleteara fuertemente cuando vuela. Pero eso no le hace falta a un águila. Traza círculos en el cielo, y aunque solo pocas veces mueve sus alas, puede subir hasta que la perdemos de la vista. ¿Cómo es que el águila sabe que es capaz de volar? Si un semejante animal pudiera hablar – creo que no empezaría a cuestionar la existencia del aire antes de ponerse a volar. Las águilas no necesitan pruebas. A ellas les basta de ser sostenidas. El resultado les sirve de prueba.

Keys

I’m using this story to support people who have suffered a stroke to recover their memories. Of course it can be used with any kind of amnesia or neurological loss of abilities, like with a person waking up after bein in coma for a long time. The story can also be used with students who are afraid of exams or with self inconfidence problems.

Was it a dream? Was it reality? I walked through the building. To my right and to my left were many doors. I turned the handles but not a door opened. The rooms were closed to me. I sat down and wept. “Why are you crying?” asked someone. I pointed to the locked doors. “Do you not know… ” he said and pointed to the pockets of my coat. “You have the keys!” I reached into my pockets and indeed pulled out two massive bunches of keys, two key rings with hundreds and hundreds of different shaped keys, large and small. How was I to know which key fit the lock of many rooms? “You have to try it,” said my encourager. “In your own time. You have all the time in the world. Try all the doors and try all the keys. Gradually you will open more and more doors. Never give up. Your freedom will grow with every open room and one day you will know the door to every key and the key to every door.”

Des pieds engourdis

Un jour d’hiver alors que tu as fait une longue randonnée, il peut arriver que tu ne sentes plus tes pieds. Et au début quand tu arrives au chaud tes pieds sont encore engourdis. Peut-être les poses-tu sur un radiateur – ce qui est bizarre c’est qu’ils commencent juste à faire mal une fois que le froid est passé et non avant dans la glace et la neige. Un fou pourrait dire : je ne décongèle pas mes pieds alors ils ne font pas mal. Pourtant celui qui a de l’expérience sait : La chaleur endolorit les pieds froids seulement un moment. Il faut dépasser cette phase. Une fois la douleur surmontée on passe à un moment de chaleur agréable.