Certainty and Control

So, what drew me to narrative – what are my narrative beginnings?  To be honest, I’m not really sure.  I have always loved stories, having found them to be safe spaces to inhabit, particularly when I was young and lived in uncertainty, anxiety, and fear.  But, that feels like an epic and I, perhaps, just need a narrative beginning and I think I know where to start.

Last weekend, on the patio, I read Clandinin and Connelly’s chapter that compared formalists to narrative inquirers and parts of descriptions of both resonated with me:  How could I be attracted to both – I want to use the word “camps,” but it seems heavy with confrontation – perspectives?  Ever since that reading, however, I’ve wanted to write about my geometry proofs.

My older sister and I shared a bedroom the whole of our growing up – or at least the parts of that growing up that I can remember.  We had twin beds, two nightstands, and a dresser.  All of that furniture was matching maple (little of our household furniture was matching back then) but at some point along the way, my parents purchased a used library table and two chairs (that were, oddly enough, from the library) that went in our room.  In high school, a different town, school, and house, we still had the library table in our room in the basement of our bi-level home.  [something about the lamp]

I adored sitting at that table solving geometry proofs.  I did them in ink and recopied until perfect.  The tedious process was engrossing and calming to me.  I suspect I found that work satisfying because there was certainty possible.  While I loved stories, I always read the end by the time I had finished only a third of the book.

On the other hand, I am drawn to narrative; I believe that experiences and lives cannot be understood or appreciated fully without narrative.  And narrative, by its very nature, eliminates certainty, leaving me to wonder why I am drawn to it.