Stories are powerful things! Stories were an important part of my first curriculum. And, “No!” I am not speaking of the Dr. Seuss or Dick and Jane kind of storybook curriculum. I am speaking of something even better. Let me explain.

My sister and I spent most of our early childhood in the quiet village of Matura on the island of Trinidad roaming my grandparents cocoa estate. This was where my father would leave us for a day or days while he went off to work.

“Ma” was a disciplinarian who took her job of caring for two motherless girls dutifully. And yet, as she busied herself with making cassava bread and grating the cocoa balls to make chocolate tea, or as she fed us lunch, or made poultices to treat the ever present boils that erupted on our skin from rough and tumble exploring in the estate, she still managed to remain distant from us. Oh, but at nights! At nights, her stoic love underwent a remarkable transformation!

When the moon cast its soft light on the Spanish styled verandah, and stars winked at us from above, we sat on long wooden benches as Ma told us Anansi stories and Trinidad folktales.

These were fanciful tales where animals talked, Cricket and Spider were friends, Anansi tricked the other animals with his craftiness, and an ugly chick named Gyo Phelon went off in search of his fortune. How we enjoyed those tales! There was no need for television. Actually, even if she had one, it would not work; Ma had no electricity. But, as cicadas trumpeted their shrill cries through the air, and owls hooted, we were transported to the world of the imagination where folktale characters roamed the night to work mischief. Then we would huddle against Ma’s form as she hugged us close — our bodies silhouetted against the dim glow of gas lamps in the windows.

These stories were comforting! They were therapeutic! This was the occasion in our day in which her love for us was personified and our hungry hearts were fed. And more than entertainment, and more than vain imaginings, they were preparing us for life outside of the sleepy village of Matura. We learned that good manners are still valuable, friendships are to be cultivated, and fortune waits for those courageous enough to venture out.

My early experiences sitting on that bench next to Ma as part of our nightly ritual have forever cemented in my mind the power of story. Perhaps, it was destiny that I would feel this yearning to write, to share creative stories and eventually weave my scholarship with narrative inquiry in the co-authored books Collaborative Autoethnography and Transformative Autoethnography. And yet, I am convinced that the capacity to craft stories is an innate human gift. Each of us has been blessed with the gift of story and the power it possesses.

My professional journey has taken me down many unexpected paths. Yet, when I think about these various career excursions of being an award winning author, a professor, a lifestyle blogger, and a leadership consultant, one thing remains constant. It is this love I have for crafting and telling authentic stories that connect us to each other and our imperfect humanity.

Story is the cornerstone of my practice at Nexe Consulting and my ministry at Value What Matters. When it comes to telling stories, genre boundaries are meant to be broken. Now, after years of honing my story craft in diverse settings, I get great joy in helping others craft stories that can heal hearts and transform lives including their very own.