Narratives and Rituals in Search of Truths

      ©Lars Lorentzon

      When I was quite a young boy I spent a lot of my time listening to elderly people, sitting in a dayroom, talking to each other. I lived in an institution for elderly people, where my father worked as a director. Men and women sitting in chairs around a table, doing nothing else but telling the stories of their lives day after day, week after week, year after year. I spent a lot of time as a participant observer in these groups.

      I loved to be there for two reasons; Firstly, it was the calm. No stress, no work, no "musts", and not the least, the continuity. It was the same life every day. . There was always a conversation going on in a small talk type manner. There were silences but also moments of argue and quarrel. It happened that people fell asleep for a short while or left the group for a few minutes. But most of the time they were there, in the room, participating in the stories that were told. The group made a sharp contrast to the daily life with all its stress and hurry.

      Secondly, it was my fascination for the stories and the way they were told. I was fascinated by the stories themselves, their contents. But also of the way they were told, most often with help by the interruptions and contributions by the other members of the group. In fact, there were a lot of stories, from all narrators, a web of ongoing narratives, from all participants, where every story seemed to highlight each and every one of the other stories. I experienced it as if it was the group who told a story by the means of its group members. But also, there were interventions that stopped, or hindered the continuation of the narratives for a shorter or longer time. This combination of sustaining and preventing contributions, created a tension.. I was thrilled by all the winding in the web of narratives and longing for the narrators to reach the core, to tell the end of all the ongoing stories. The flow of simultaneous narratives in the group was to me a very exiting world.

      It did not take me long to learn the outlines of every person's life story. This meant that I more or less knew the story they were going to tell the group. I also learnt the approximated procedure of all those interacting stories and interventions from different members. I knew which stories that would be told. The contents and the rituals were known. One could think that this would be monotonous. But no! It was more like listening to a fairytale or to read a book you have already read. The familiarity of it, do not exclude that new thoughts, memories or feelings are brought to surface. There will always be more or less important variations. These stories, told over and over again, always changed slightly somewhere along the course of the narrative. This is what I think; every one of them was trying to tell the real story, the full and true story of their lives. And everyone listened in hope of hearing the real story. I don't think that any such thing as "a true story" exists, but as an inner fact it does and lies behind our need to share our stories.

      All narratives in a group are created in a field of tensions between the wish to reveal the truth, and conceal it, a well as the wish to really hear the story and to protect you of hearing facts that could be hurting.

      The good narrative in the group is never a monologue; rather it is often interrupted by contributing stories from the listeners in form of "this reminds me of …" and so on. Even for a very young boy it was obvious that the interrupting story was a method of high lightening something in the previous story, or it was an interpretation, or a way of helping the narrator to continue. In my practice as a group analyst I am convinced that these "interrupting stories" very often redirects or deepen the first narrative, or its narrator unconsciously. The new story, without the step of an awareness process, gives him a new starting point for continuation. This storytelling kind of communication keeps the attention on the ongoing exchange of experiences instead of focusing the person. I think it is important in all analytic groups to promote this kind of communication.

      In a narrative, nothing resembles a straight line between A and B. What sometimes is called "straight communication" does not exist in human narratives. A narrative is more like wandering. Curiosity, engagement, tension is provoked by this wandering. I think it is precisely this that makes conversation so important and irresistible. And the fact is, that in a good narrative neither the listener nor the narrator really know what is going to be spoken and told. The narrative has its own life. It is a combination of reporting and creating. When a narrative is told in the context of a live audience of other narrators who have the possibility and even a responsibility of taking an active part in the creative process, as is the fact in the analytic group, this wandering about is very pronounced. But sometimes it can be difficult to grasp that it also is a quite rational process to stroll around.

      If we look at the interventions, interruptions, made in the group, or perhaps we could call them communications, the following pattern was obvious.

      The first type is interventions in form of a new story from another member, a story based on a memory that the first story surfaced or clarified. These associative stories are often not consciously addressed to the narrator, but more to the narrative itself. The engagement, the focus is on the storytelling, the narrating process in the group. When the first narrator later on continues his story it is often easy to find that the interrupting narratives has had an influence on what he now tells the group. The new stories open up new lines. They can broaden, deepen or concentrate the story.

      Concealment, as I have said before is always an inherent part of a narrative. Without it, there would be no excitement in listening to a story. I think all interruptions have their roots in a feeling in the listener, that the story he listens to has some hidden part. This is the part we seek. We are always listening to the hidden story within the story. Sometimes the narrator hides consciously, sometimes unconsciously and sometimes he seems to hide simply because he never thought of, or realized, some experiences that really made important differences to his story. I think these "side stories" often are very effective to reveal the hidden story.

      But of course there are other ways in which the listeners can interrupt and influence the narrative. By questions, comments and reflections that focus parts, or hidden parts of the story. " Tell me more about this or that…!"

      The next level is when the attention seems to be turned from the actual story to the narrator. What I refer to is my impression that the members in the group, the physical persons, experience themselves and each other in a role of narrators, instead of the person behind the narrative. On this level we address the narrator. "You always tells us so and so" or "You never tell us about this or that". This kind of comments seems to have their focus on the story, or the narrative level even if it is the person that is addressed. The aim is to encourage the narrator to create a better, maybe truer story. From my experiences with analytical groups, this kind of narrator-linked comments can be very useful, because they open up for the question: why am I telling my story the way I am?

      The third level is openly addressed to the person behind the narrative. In every narrative there is a communication in the here and now embedded. I told fairy tales to my children when they were young. Often I invented them in the moment I was telling them. I really enjoyed this and often I think that the narratives created themselves, I just told them. Sometimes my children, after hearing a story, asked me: "Why did you tell me that story?" Confronted by that question I often realized that I had tried to say something important to my child through the story, but obviously in a way that was not quite clear or understandable, or maybe too delicately concealed, provoking anxiety or curiosity or maybe confusion. My reason for being unclear was my fear of being straightforward, consciously or unconsciously. I think that it is this ambiguity - when you can not decide if you are listening to a story from the past, or are addressed as a person by another person here and now, this forces the group to shift attention from the level of the narrative to the actual person. In all narratives there is always a connection between past and present, but sometimes this connection is so confused that you have to deal with it more direct and openly.

      The difference between the "old peoples group and my analytic groups is that the former used much more comments of narrative- and narrator- level. Maybe these old, experienced people, had learnt that there was no idea to try to change each other, and used no energy on the personal level.

      Another difference was that the conversation was so ceremonial, and repetitive. In the analytic group the variations are greater. But sometimes I must confess that my analytic groups are just the same as the old folks group. All narratives are the product of the joint group, the intense interplay and communications between the group members. If a person in a group shall be able to produce a narrative that captures and mirrors his life story, he must get the help of his audience. Every narrative needs other narratives to be fully told.

      In group analysis all members are supposed to tell the stories of their lives. There is no contradiction between this formulation and the recommendation to follow the rule of free association, because every thought, feeling or memory that comes to our minds are always embedded in a story, perhaps a short story that is a fragment of the life story. For this reason, an analytic group must create a culture or a climate where narrating can take place. The most important skill of the analyst is to promote "a story sharing climate" in the group.

      But the member's expectation, when they join the group, is not to find a place to share life stories. They come for personal change. Because of this, the attention in the group tends to turn from the story to the storyteller, the person. I agree with Jim Hume who said that too much analysis (attention on the personal level) makes the group boring, withdrawn and narcissistic, and too little does not create awareness. What I will add is that we as group analysts must have a genuine interest to listen to narratives and learn as much we can about how to stimulate a narrating culture and find ways of expressing this in the group. This is basic! Our knowledge of psychodynamics is of course useful in this respect; our interpretations and other interventions on the personal level can liberate the free associations (resistance analysis) and thereby open up for more general personal self-understanding. But the risk is that we become too much occupied by the question "Who he is" and loose our engagement in "What he tells us". I just came to think about a group experience that may help to exemplify some of what I have talked about. I had the privilege to attend a small group conducted by Jim Hume a few years before his death. As I remember it, his comments in the group were almost always in the form of an own narrative, often narrated with an emotional ton, not strong but clear. One of the group members was an old women, a very significant psychoanalyst., still going strong. The stories she contributed to the group expressed vitality and energy, but this vitality arouse in me more irritation than interest. I noticed that Jim seemed to withdraw in a sort of depressive way. Suddenly he said in a slightly sad tone; "Perhaps I just envy you, but when I listen to you I came to think about all this young people, who walk's faster than me and pass me on the sidewalk, it makes me sometimes so sad and envious". In the end of his story he looked into her eyes and she started to cry. Later on she tooled us things I still remember. Maybe Jim heard her hidden story, or just reviled what memories and emotions that in him came to life, when listening to her but anyhow his narrative contribution opened a door for her to bring us narratives that we could share fully and wholehearted.

      Perhaps my point is that also the group analyst must be a narrator in the group, not a person who analysis persons who are engaged in a conversation. The analyst's role is to create a climate where the members can narrate their life stories, and learn by them about themselves and life. If the analyst will success he or she must restrict himself or herself to be just one of the narrators, but who consciously tries to use he own narratives to promote this narrative learning process in the group.

      Let me give you another perspective of the dynamics in the narrative process. Olof Lagerkranz, a famous Swedish author, has written a book about Josef Conrad's "The heart of darkness". In this book Conrad tells us a story about a journey he did to Africa. The narrator in the book is a "captain Marlow" who tell the story to a small group of men, the crew of a sailing ship, sitting on the deck, in the dark, in the mouth of the river Thames, waiting fore the tide to start their journey. While waiting, we all can listen to Marlow's story. In his book "A journey with the heart of darkness", Lagerkranz analyses how this narrator, Marlow, sometimes conceals fact that Conrad want to hid or protect, but not so perfect that a good reader, as Lagerkrantz get some hints about it. He also shows how Marlow sometimes reveals facts that Conrad initially not had in mind to tell. It seems as Conrad could not resist to let Marlow tell some facts that went beyond what Conrad intended. The story gets its own life.

      By the way the story "The heart of Darkness" could have been written in many ways. Conrad chose the form of a narrator telling a story to a live audience. This is ingenious because through identification the reader finds himself sitting in the circle, listening to captain Marlow. This creates that special tension which we meet in the live group. Many times I have thought that the narratives told in the group, if they had been told in another setting, which they often have, they could be completely uninteresting or even boring. But told in the group they arouse excitement, engagement and reflections. It is the frame, the circle and the aim, the serious engagement to be honest and truthful about the experiences of life, which creates this kind of culture. It awakes a deep interest in human life.

      There is a major difference between "listening to a report" and to really "share a narrative". Sharing means that we get caught and absorbed by the narrative. It somehow invades us, becomes a part of us and starts a process in us. Memories, thoughts and feelings within us come to life. It seems as a paradox; when a story really absorbs us, we also find ourselves! I Swedish language we have a word for this - "inlevelse", which literally, translated would be "inlivingness". It is close to the germen word "einfuhlen". This kind of sharing means that the shared narrative give birth to a narrative in the listener that in its turn will be expressed and perhaps this new narrative opens up new paths fore the first narrative. In the long run, in the group, that all the shared narratives in a way creates a group narrative.

      We often compare group analysis with psychoanalysis. We should not, because I think it is two quite different realities, at least from the perspective of narratives and narrators. It is quite a different thing to tell all the stories of your life - from the earliest memories to the present experiences in the here and now group - to a live audience of other storytellers invited to engage and participate in the matrix of shared narratives. In psychoanalysis the narratives are just means to understand a person. It is a clinical process where the analyst must restrict himself to analyze the patient, not involve in spontaneous communication, like that of a group. All the stories that come to life in the analyst must be used, and transformed to comments that illuminate the patient or the relationship between them.

      Hindrances

      I think group psychotherapy has one of its important roots or origin in an old tradition of spending time together in small groups, being together just for the sake of sharing experiences. We needed all the narratives, because this was the only way to learn about life. The narrating process was a necessity for learning and living. There were no other channels of information.

      In the old peoples group, all of the members had lived in a society where oral tradition had long since been established. In the institution those days there was just one radio, and one piece of newspaper. You had to talk; you had to listen if you just could not live strictly within yourself. But I must add; even if the sharing of experiences was necessary it was obvious that people in a deep meaning enjoyed this conversation.

      In this respect, life of today is quite different. Our main narrators are media of all kinds. The small groups nowadays meet in front of the TV. We love the forever-ongoing narratives of the show Dallas. We listen to narratives from media strangers many hours per day. And they are perhaps even more stereotypic compared to the stories told by the old folks group. We learn to listen to narratives, not to talk or cooperate with narrators. You can se the result in all conferences!

      I think this is the reason why small group communication nowadays often holds some characteristics of simply killing time. The conversation "man to man" seems not at all necessary; at least this is what we consciously think. When you nowadays contribute with a story of your own in a small group it must be either a good story (narcissistic) or something very important or serious.

      Members that nowadays form analytic groups have only tradition and legacy from killing time's groups. This means two things; it is difficult to promote group therapy as a way of improving mental health and that it takes a lot of time for the members to find that they really possess personal stories of their own to tell, stories that they find that the others want to hear and even need to hear. When groups come this far, members find it a privilege to belong to them. But the tradition of today, do not support group conversation. Modern man has forgotten that a living group is a genius narrator!

      Another hindrance is the therapeutic expectations which combined with the lack of oral tradition very strongly, also in groups, tend to focus the attention more to what the people are in a psychological sense than what they tell. They want to be treated, not heard. They think they must treat rather than listen. The only narratives that seem relevant are their case stories and medical history. . These expectation and ambitions are valuable to a certain extent to create a therapeutic culture, but we must learn to deal with it, somehow help the members to find out that they have a lot of important stories, that might seem irrelevant and beyond the hard work of psychotherapy, which the free association rule can help them to find and later tell. The real therapeutic change come when you start to tell your own stories. But also this is a slow process. To some extent the process can be speeded up, by working in semi-slow open groups.

      The last hindrance is the fact that we have deliberately put group analysis in the realm of medical treatment - diagnosis, journals and so forth. This puts heavy stress on the persons, the participants, not the least on the analyst. This is serious! We write it down! Other people might read it! All financiers needs result reports. It promotes too much self-awareness, and dependence! The play, and enjoyment, the fun in the living conversation has no place here. We seem to be far away from the sailing boat on the Thames or the dayroom where the group had the time to create the full and true story. But everyone's real story needs all this to be told. What space is left for a transitional area where true stories can be told?

      By the way, what is that true story I refer to? I think the true story starts when a person suddenly finds that he has something to tell, something he must tell the group. Not as a part of a pastime, but from necessity. When he starts to tell this story, all kinds of concealing activities starts as well. By the help of the others interventions he returns to the head tracks and sooner or later, often much, much later, he approaches the end. In this end there is not only a story we fully understand and share, a story that come to mean something new for the whole group. It's a brand new story of life, new for everyone, even the person who told it, but a lot of emotions... Narrating and living meet, and the people become individuals in a community. In these moments one can feel that the group give birth to life, through all kind of emotions - crying and laughing, fear and hope. The experience goes far beyond our image of a treatment method.

      I think all of you know what I talk about, but I am afraid that no one of us could describe it in a paper or an essay, at least not in a medical journal.