The Life-Long Enchantment of Our Founding Stories

With cancer, a person begins to look at their life in a different way. I have been thinking about enchantment, and my future. I am inspired by the spirit of mystery and magic which is a definition of enchantment. I’m attracted to the philosophy that all forms of life, as well as the inanimate, have spirit. Even a rock, I like to think, has a spirit. I sometimes forget this. And I get caught up in the materialistic, rational point of view. I want to pay attention to the essence of enchantment in my future. It has often been there in my past.

Mary-Alice Arthur, a story activist, shares the idea of “founding stories.” A founding story is a story we discover, or is told to us, usually at a young age. We carry the essence of that story the rest of our lives. I was reminded, recently, of some of my own founding stories, and this is bringing enchantment into my life. I would like to share some of my founding stories in the hopes that you will be enchanted by remembering some of your own.

We often recognize the power of a founding story by how well we remember the scenic details of when we hear it. This story was told to me by my mother when we were driving in the car, and I can still see the piece of road on Route 116 that we were passing through as she began. When I was about five, my religious mother told me about her belief in God. She said, “I know there is a God because of how a tiny seed can grow. One seed can grow into a stem of green grass. Another seed can grow into a dandelion. How this happens is the mystery of God’s power.”

I remember another founding story told to me by my father. He managed more than one farm and an estate for a wealthy man. I may have been about ten when I was thinking about all the different jobs people did. One day I was standing close to my father just above the corn crib. I asked him, “Daddy, why did you become a farmer?” His answer was, “Because I like to see things grow.” This surprised me. Even at that age, I think I expected a more practical answer. Thinking now about my father, I realize his life had enchantment.

As children my brothers and I played in the corn field across the lane. I was enchanted by looking up at the tall stalks of corn with their developing ears. Each one had silk hair spilling from its top. It was fun getting lost in the expanse of the neat horizontal and vertical rows in this large field and yet knowing there was no danger. I was wandering in a mystery maze. Yes, it was enchanting. I’m connecting to these early learnings. My desire is to carry the spirit of these founding stories into my future.

This is cross-posted from Jane Knox’s blog The Ageless Goddess