Well doesn’t life have a funny way of serving lessons up on a platter?
In a strategy meeting today in which two very respected and talented colleagues and I were planning a storytelling workshop, I was suddenly struck by the paranoid thought that I had very little to offer. Sure I’d constructed my PowerPoint slides and written out the notes in which I was going to refer back to a successful story I’d created and shared. But still the niggling doubt kept hovering: "What fresh element could I contribute to the workshop aim of 'Create your own UON story?' "
Hadn’t I already done that a long time ago and just adjusted it over time? What fresh insights could I provide in the hands-on period of the workshop? What new elements could I bring to my story of my UON role? When the time came for us all to choose an artwork postcard that best reflected what we perceived as our role, I expected just to choose some halcyon landscape, where everything was perfect and peaceful.
Then the gods of storytelling rolled with mirth as they devised a new situation for me. On the day that I shrugged with complacency at the stability of my role, it all changed and chaos descended. A dramatic change in role that had been suggested, whispered about in dark corridors, hinted at in staff meetings and appeared tantalisingly on the edges of draft documents, suddenly loomed just on the horizon. Just like the figure of nightmares- Abiyoyo of South African folklore- this new role took on gigantic proportions and a sinister aspect.
was that really what was planned? In the story, the giant Abiyoyo is overcome by the musical talent of the young boy. Good communication between staff and management also had the magical capacity to allay all fears and smooth the way to an easier introduction of new responsibilities and tasks. Would the future prove to be harmonious or discordant?
Only time (and future blog posts) will tell. In the meantime, it looks like I will be selecting a new artwork postcard in the workshop and working on a new story.
Happy days.
In a strategy meeting today in which two very respected and talented colleagues and I were planning a storytelling workshop, I was suddenly struck by the paranoid thought that I had very little to offer. Sure I’d constructed my PowerPoint slides and written out the notes in which I was going to refer back to a successful story I’d created and shared. But still the niggling doubt kept hovering: "What fresh element could I contribute to the workshop aim of 'Create your own UON story?' "
Hadn’t I already done that a long time ago and just adjusted it over time? What fresh insights could I provide in the hands-on period of the workshop? What new elements could I bring to my story of my UON role? When the time came for us all to choose an artwork postcard that best reflected what we perceived as our role, I expected just to choose some halcyon landscape, where everything was perfect and peaceful.
Then the gods of storytelling rolled with mirth as they devised a new situation for me. On the day that I shrugged with complacency at the stability of my role, it all changed and chaos descended. A dramatic change in role that had been suggested, whispered about in dark corridors, hinted at in staff meetings and appeared tantalisingly on the edges of draft documents, suddenly loomed just on the horizon. Just like the figure of nightmares- Abiyoyo of South African folklore- this new role took on gigantic proportions and a sinister aspect.
was that really what was planned? In the story, the giant Abiyoyo is overcome by the musical talent of the young boy. Good communication between staff and management also had the magical capacity to allay all fears and smooth the way to an easier introduction of new responsibilities and tasks. Would the future prove to be harmonious or discordant?
Only time (and future blog posts) will tell. In the meantime, it looks like I will be selecting a new artwork postcard in the workshop and working on a new story.
Happy days.
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