Oh, the power of stories

What is so fascinating of a story? If nothing else - its end. Chinese opera (as Dr Foltz so lovingly puts it) have the best endings not only due to their inherent beauty, but also from the fact that they are simply over. And good endings do that to a good story: simply put that they are simply over.

Good stories have good endings, and this makes them good stories as the entirity of the body of the story goes towards serving said end. The end of a story is the focal point throughout the body that all of the body works towards.

And that is precisely what draws us back to stories. That is precisely why we read, watch, listen to and consume stories: for the end.

And yet, look at our scientism. Over-scientification seeks, inadvertently, to remove the surprise of the end of the story. "Wrinkle-be-gone," "acne reliever," and other antiaging - antinatural - products all are advocacies of removing the naturally surprising end to the story of our physical beings. And the firms that create these products present this natural happening as the horrible letdown of self.

The same process can be applied in metaphor to other areas of study. Observe what the love of knowledge has the power to do to English majors, philosophy majors or psychology majors. In all, the over adamant love of knowledge can cause them to try too hard with the story they are presented with, thus killing the organic unfolding of the story. The English major has the propensity towards seeking for all the nitty-gritty and petty problems of the story. The philosophy major is presented with the pitfall of looking for the metaphorical universalities (if any, or with any hope of applicability) of the story. The psychology student (oh, I am speaking from pure experience) is looking to the author – what is she revealing about herself through the story?

And all of this causes us to lose the beauty of the organic story. And this, in turn, causes us to lose the beauty of losing ourselves in the organic beauty of the story. Even now, as you read this, I defy you not to wonder where I am going with this rant. Are you not seeking the end? Once again, I say, we are all on a bound to seek the end.

And it is good to have an end, otherwise (o’ crudely stated) we endlessly seek. However, to be motivated towards rather than captivated by the end is, again, where our dissection leads us. We care more about dissecting and figuring out the end of the story than we do about letting the end dissect and figure us out.

What is a story if not a dialogue between you and it – or more to Martin Buber’s view – you and the who who created it? The very who who creates a good story, from this monograph’s author’s perspective, does not begin his endeavor by first concluding the metaphor he wishes to convey:

He simply writes.

Or, more to the point: the writing simply hims.

Will the author contradict herself? By all means! As Madeline L’Engle states it the alternative to the organic, the over introspective, "may be more predictable than the rest of us, but they are also less real.” Why give up reality for predictability? If we could predict the end of a book in the first page, rather than let the real, organic story evolve in front of us, why read the book at all? Read the first page, and call it good! Why kill a story by seeking its end before its end seeks and finds you? Why try to kill the natural end of the story before the end is in sight?

I was talking to a friend the other day who works around the elderly. Now, granted, this friend (as long as I have known him) doesn’t not like the elderly, he is simply… uneasy around them. But in talking to him he told me: “Joe, if I ever get that old, and wrinkly, and whiny, and unattractive: shoot me.” My friend, you are killing the end before the end has the chance to kill you. I am not about to say: “Don’t take care of yourself, don’t try to look good, don’t care about your physical self,” would I be a good Christian if I did? But at the same time, I say to you: let the end of the story direct you, rather than imposing an end that might not even happen, such that your presupposed end directs you and you wreck yourself worrying about what might never be!

Makeup covers the natural end of a pimple; shaving the natural end of growing hair. Are these things and actions wrong? No, unless they are the tool you use to present to yourself a reality that only you can see. And they certainly aren’t bad if you associate culture to good, and nature to bad. Ought we to associate as such? That’s for you to decide.

But when considering a story: don’t lose yourself to analysis: lose yourself to the story.