TEACHERS, PLEASE READ: Why Storytelling in the Classroom Matters

Why Storytelling in the Classroom Matters

edutopia.org/blog/storytelling-in-the-classroom-matters-matthew-friday

What is "storytelling"? Telling stories, of course! In 2014, there are so many diverse, wonderful, and sometimes overwhelming ways to do this. What I want to explore is traditional, oral storytelling, which has been a part of human life since we first left Africa 200,000 or more years ago. Perhaps storytelling was the reason language developed in the first place, as our minds began to inquire, wonder, think.

Why Do We Tell Stories?

Whether in caves or in cities, storytelling remains the most innate and important form of communication. All of us tell stories. The story of your day, the story of your life, workplace gossip, the horrors on the news. Our brains are hard-wired to think and express in terms of a beginning, middle and end. It's how we understand the world.
Storytelling is the oldest form of teaching. It bonded the early human communities, giving children the answers to the biggest questions of creation, life, and the afterlife. Stories define us, shape us, control us, and make us. Not every human culture in the world is literate, but every single culture tells stories.

You already are. Teachers are storytellers, and storytellers have been teachers for millennia. In reality, teachers don't see themselves as storytellers. Or rather, they see the occasional storyteller and think it's a theatrical, exaggerated show more akin to acting. But hang on a minute -- being a teacher definitely involves acting and theatrics.

Interactive Storytelling

It is important at this stage that I describe my particular style. I don't rely on just "speaking" the story. I don't sit still in a chair. I talk slowly, with alternating rhythm. I walk around. I use my hands a lot. And, most importantly, I invite children from the audience to act out the story as I tell it. They dress up in funny hats and other props, and they follow the instructions in the story and repeat the dialogue I say. I stop and start the story a lot, asking the audience to contribute sound effects, to answer questions, to make suggestions.

The Many Benefits to Storytelling

When you tell your first story, there is a magical moment. The children sit enthralled, mouths open, eyes wide. If that isn't enough reason, then consider that storytelling:

• Inspires purposeful talking, and not just about the story -- there are many games you can play.
• Raises the enthusiasm for reading texts to find stories, reread them, etc.
• Initiates writing because children will quickly want to write stories and tell them.
• Enhances the community in the room.
• Improves listening skills.
• Really engages the boys who love the acting.
• Is enjoyed by children from kindergarten to the end of elementary school.
• Gives a motivating reason for English-language learners to speak and write English.

That last point has really proven powerful this year. My school is 97 percent English-language learners, and I have many children in my class who arrived speaking little or no English. The single biggest factor to their incredible progress in English has been their wanting to become storytellers.

So How Do You Become a Storyteller?

I recommend the following:

1. Read as many different world folktales, fables, myths, and legends as you can.
2. Watch professional storytellers and take notes about how they do it. Every storyteller is different, and you can learn something from them all.
3. Build your confidence by reading your students picture books or chapter books with an interesting voice. Stop to ask questions. Make the book reading interactive. It will help you create a shared event with a story.
4. Pick stories with small numbers of characters and repeating events, as these are easiest to remember. Having said that, pick any story you like -- no, that you love! If it captivates you, it will captivate the younger ones, too.
5. Write the stories down in a notebook. Writing helps you remember a story, and it models the same to the children.
6. When you start "telling" your story, it's OK to have the book nearby and to take a look at it if you forget a part. Don't be too hard on yourself. You are a student again.
7. Get yourself a "prop box" made of old bits of linen, and fill it with hats from charity shops and random objects that children can use imaginatively. I got a lot of my materials from recycling centers.

So What's Next?

Sure, becoming a storyteller takes effort and inclination on your behalf, but with so many benefits, isn't it worth trying? You might surprise yourself. You will certainly surprise your students. In relatively little time, you can be telling stories, running storytelling clubs, capturing the attention of the whole school assembly, contributing to school events and PD training schedules. I never thought I would be doing any of this when I started my teacher training seven years ago.

So what's stopping you? The next story starts with you . . .

 "Analysing stories is usually territory claimed by writers, critics, and university scholars. But recently, evolutionary psychologists have begun to look at the human propensity for storytelling from a scientific perspective."

 Teachers, please listen to CBC radio broadcast, IDEAS: Vestigial Tale, Part 1, Part 2.

Do schools kill creativity?

https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/12/the-origins-of-storytelling/547502/

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EPISODE III - THE PHOENIX HAS RISEN

EPISODE III - THE PHOENIX HAS RISEN

[PREFACE: For those following the stories in the series by which they are being presented, this preface explains what happened after my abduction, in the Gypsy Story:

With the advice from Dr. Papadopoulos', Dr. Mandemis', the urging of local police, and members of our immediate family, we moved to Athens for our safety. Extensive medical evaluations of my "pireto", were to follow.

Soon after our arrival, many human hands and machines probed me. All of which, none, could explain how a young lad of eight, could be alive, given his high and "impossible," human temperature. Doctors, as well as scientists, were brought in from many parts of Europe, especially Germany and France. All these scientists were bewildered by what they observed.

By now the news media had gotten a sniff of "the wonder child" and newspapers and tabloids had a field day with such titles, "God's Child, the healer is among us." "The Devil's son has arrived." "Alien being on our planet," and so on. Things were getting somewhat dangerous for my family and me, with all these curious and desperate people wanting to gain access to me. "The government," decided to send me to North America for our protection and further research. ]

(Mr. Leousis arrives at the entrance of the schoolyard to pick up a grade six class, which he will have this day. He asks the teacher supervising early morning bell, where would Ms. Acinom's grade six class lineup. He proceeds to take the group of students up to room 303, so they can begin the day's lessons. After taking attendance and handing out a number of stencils of work assigned to the class, he remarks :)

If you work quietly and do your work well, I will show you a video and then perhaps tell you a story.

(After dealing with several questions from the class, there is reasonable quiet and with the exception of Christopher, who is constantly getting out of his seat without permission, the class is well behaved. Some, one hour later, students begin to turn in their work with the majority having completed. Mr. Leousis, now asks the class to stop what they are doing and that he will show this video entitled, What is that? (Τι είναι αυτό;) 2007 by Constantine Pilaios. He informs the class that this video is to be found on YouTube. He asks the students to copy the title in their agendas and see if they can view it with their family when they get home.

After viewing the video with the class, Mr. Leousis, initiates a discussion, asking students how this relates to their lives. A number of students identify with the relationship of the old man and his son while another group wants to discuss how they love their grandparents and that their grandparents sometimes forget.)

Christopher, "the nuisance", is now very subdued. As the class discussion evolves, he is seen to have buried his face in his folded arms on his desk, receiving the stare of some of the students around him. A girl next to him, signals Mr. Leousis, by placing her fingers on her eyes and pretending to rub them as if Christopher, is weeping. Mr. Leousis moves closer to Christopher and asks :), "Chris are you alright?" (Christopher continues to hide his face in his arms and does not respond. Mr. Leousis addresses the class :)

Sometimes, things happen which are very upsetting, especially when people in our lives, our siblings, our parents, uncles, and aunts, are hurt by some event. These are dreadful happenings for young people like you to have to experience. However, there are some of life's events that inevitably will happen to all of us, that of growing old. I did not choose to show you this video to get anyone upset but for us to have a good discussion of what it means to get to be old. I sometimes see young people, in your age group and older, being disrespectful to older people, and that concerns me most.

You observed in this video; the old man's son was very disrespectful to his father. I don't think the young man was a bad person. As younger men and women, we forget that we would not be around if it were not for the sacrifices of our parents and their parents before them, our grandparents.

When I was a young boy of nine years of age,  I lived in Greece in the city of Tripolis. There came a time when my family and I had to move to Athens, the capital city of Greece. Those who care to visit my blog on the Internet... (Mr. Leousis, pauses for a moment and brings up a slide on his computer that  projects on the class SMART Board.) You can go to this address... (He points:)

http://canadianstoryteller.blogspot.ca

...and there you will read about other stories I tell students. The story, I will relate to you today, took place right after, the story, known as "The Gypsy".

We had moved to Athens, from my hometown of Tripolis because I was to be examined by these specialist doctors. I had received "The Light" and this had caused my body temperature to rise to a temperature of 45 degrees Celsius. For those who are interested, the normal body temperature is 37 degrees Celsius.

We were staying at this apartment building one of many surrounding a small "Πλατεία-Public square". The park (platia-Πλατεία) had a few swings and a sandbox for young children to play. The platia was surrounded by a number of benches for people to sit. On one far side was a "περιπτερο -kiosk", a type of miniature shop (kiosk), which sold multiple items, cigarettes, newspapers, soft drinks, ice cream  and everything under the sun. On the exact opposite side of the "preriptero", was a small "εκκλησάκι-miniature chape"l. Passersby would make their cross as they hurried to and from the platia or would on occasion stop, and light a candle for a special prayer.

I was not used to the hot nights of Athens. One night, I got out of bed, dressed in my shorts and decided to go and sit on one of the benches near the “eklisaki”. Most of the platia was well-lit except that a bulb near the eklisaki, had burned out. Sitting there, looking at the bright moon, I could hear an unusual sound, (Mr. Leousis mimics the sound to the class):

"Doop, shhh, dop shh..dop... "

In the distance, meters away, I could distinguish shadow of what seemed to be a person. He was carrying a cane, his one leg being dragged on the ground as he helped himself with the cane: As he got near, I could see it was an old man. He stopped by the eklisaki, rested his body on the cane. After somewhat stabilizing himself, he reached out with his right trembling hand, into his right pocket and pulled out some coins that he deposited in the collection box. He then picked up a small candle and lit it before the icons that lay there. He had not taken notice of me sitting on the bench and thus I remained silent. He began to pray in a low voice:

( O, χρυσή και ιερή παρθένο Μαρία, σε παρακαλούμε προστάτεψε τον πολύτιμο γιο μου. Φέρ 'τον στο σπίτι ασφαλή και άφησέ τον να κλείσει τα μάτια μου με γαληνη. Μόνο για μια σύντομη στιγμή, αφήσε τα μάτια μου να δουν το όμορφο πρόσωπό του για μια ακόμη φορά και να χαϊδέψω το κεφάλι του με μια τελευταία αγκαλιά. Μου λείπει τόσο.)

( O golden and Holiest Virgin Mary, please protect my precious son. Bring him home safe and let him close my eyes in peace. If only for a brief second, let my eyes witness his beautiful face once more and stroke his head with one last hug. I miss him so.)

I could feel the old man's voice crack in pain as he ushered his every word. I became saddened for what I heard, tears running down my cheeks. A few minutes of stillness and the old man turned towards from where he came, and again slowly moved away perishing into the darkness, only his brushing sounds fading even slower.

"Doop, shhh, dop shh..dop... "

The following day at about near sunset, my father gave me some money to go to the peripter and buy some ice cream. As I sat on the bench next to the periptero enjoying my treat, two old ladies arrived who sat next to me. They continuously gossiped about this, that and the other, about almost all passers-by. They must have been living in the neighborhood for a long time because they seemed to have known everyone and had something to say about all. Across from where I sat, I noticed once again, the old man struggling, cane in hand, back to the eklisaki, to light a candle and pray. One of the old ladies spoke to the other:

"(Καημένε Χαράλαμπο, ο πόνος του είναι βαθύ. Ο ίδιος δεν έχει ακούσει από τον γιο του στη θάλασσα. Έχει κανένα να νοιάζεστε γι 'αυτόν. Ή μήπως δεν θέλει να έχει μια κόρη στην Βυτίνα, η άλλη γυναίκα ρωτά; Ω ναι, είναι σε ακόμα χειρότερη κατάσταση, επισκέπτεται μόνο ο γέρος να πάρει τα χρήματά του, όταν βρίσκεται σε ανάγκη. Η μόνη φροντίδα γι 'αυτόν, ήταν ο γιος του και επίσης δεν έχει ακούσει από. Είναι ολομόναχος. Θλίψη του θα τον σκοτώσει..)."

("Oh, poor Haralambo, his pain is deep. He has not heard from his son at sea. He has no-one to care for him." "Doesn't he have a daughter in Vitina", the other woman asks? "Oh yes, she is in even worse condition, she only visits the old man to take his money, when she is in need. The only one caring for him was his son, and he too has not been heard from. He is all alone. His sorrow will kill him.")

Upon hearing this discussion, I became even more saddened and my appetite to finish my ice-cream disappeared. I remembered the old man's prayer and wish, the night before and I hoped if there was a way to reach his son. That night sleep came easily, and I drifted into the Elysium.

Beyond the valley of new creations, falling into the depths of old, a Phoenix rises before me and cries out:

"Είμαι ο πατέρας μου και δεν είναι παρά ένα. Θα αναζητήσει τους νέους να θάψει το παλιό, είναι καθήκον του. Η παλιά επιθυμούσε τη ζωή, την υγεία και την ευημερία για τους νέους του, αυτό θα επιτευχθεί μόνο όταν το παλιό εισέρχεται στο Elysium, θνητός κομιστής του "Light". Κάντε το έτσι."

 (I am my father and we are but one. Seek out the young to release the old, it is the way of the Phoenix: A coin for Kharon will be the price.)

Immediately before my feet, I could see a coin, which I proceed to pick up. The coin face depicting a Phoenix in transformation".

I could feel myself leaving my body, they call it an out of body experience, (Mr. Leousis, remarks.)

Soon after, I found myself hovering over a huge ocean, its powerful waves bashing against a small tanker of petrol oil. In the engine room, three men were furiously trying to restart the engine.

The ship was adrift and without power, they were doomed to sink. One man pulls out an old pocket watch. The outer facing had an image of a Phoenix, exactly like the coin given to me in the Elysium by the Phoenix. The man opens the watch. On the inside plate of this old watch, I could see the miniature picture of the old man Haralambos; he must have been the old man Haralambos' son!

The young man, stares at the picture of the old man, makes a cross and whispers to himself:

"Αγαπητέ πατέρα, το θαύμα σου και να σώσει το πλοίο. Έχω καιρό να ακουμπήσω το κεφάλι μου στους ώμους σας και να είστε σίγουροι για μια ακόμη φορά. Για να έχετε κανένα φόβο, όπως εσείς με έχουν διδάξει. Μου λείπεις πατέρα. Θα παραμείνουν ισχυρά, όπως μου έχουν διδάξει μέχρι το τέλος."

(Dear Father, work your miracle and save this ship, not for me but for these innocent sailors. I long to rest my head on your shoulders and to be assured once more. To have no fear as you have taught me.  I miss you father. I will stay strong as you have taught me till the very end.)

I sense this familiar warmness in me as I drift closer to this man. With my right hand, I touch him on his right shoulder and moved away. The man freezes for a few seconds. I could see his eyelids flicker, "The Light" had now been awaken within him. He moves away from the large engine and climbs a metal staircase. Next to some lockers, he bends down and opens a large metal container. In this box one could now see three pipes running parallel to each other; one red valve in-between each pipe. He turns the middle valve, one hundred and eighty degrees. Then in excitement, he calls down to the other two men.

"Πατήσε κουμπί!" (Press button!).

The one man, who is struggling to stay upright as the ship is bouncing about, reaches out for a blue push button. After several attempts, his hand reaches the blue button and cuffs it, pressing hard on it. As he struggles to stay close. A ringing sound, "Yie, yie, yie .." and the huge turbines begin to turn slowly, picking up speed with each revolution. The two men stare at each other, and a glowing smile enters their faces. In excitement, the one on the top, old man Haralambos' son, raises his arms and looks up at the ceiling calling out, "πατερούλη μας έσωσες, μας έσωσες! " (Father you have saved us!) He takes out his pocket watch, kisses his father's picture and like all proud Greeks, begins to dance, Opa!" (Mr. Leousis calls out as he proceeds to dance in front of the class.)

A week later, sitting at the platia, I witnessed father and son coming to the eklisaki to light a candle of thanks for the miracle at sea. Two days later, Hades the God of the underworld, waited for the promised oath, the old man had made the night I first met him. The cycle of life had now been completed. His son knew deep in his heart that his father had left in peace, knowing that his son had held his hand as he took his last breath of life. A life gifted to him by his father's prayers a week earlier when he was out at sea. The Phoenix had risen once again!

And that my students is the story of the Phoenix, which states that, out of the ashes of the old, the new will rise. In other words, it is quite natural for people to grow old and eventually pass away. But, it is also important for the young to remember, that if it were not for the ashes of the old, the new would not come into existence.  

 

  

Country of safety - Canada

At that time, there was some serious research being done on high MBR (Metabolic rates), at a Nuclear Medical facility in Canada, so we were brought to Montreal at the Royal Victoria Hospital. You all know where that is? ( Mr. Leousis, asks.)

If I were to give you permission to see my medical file, it would be this high. (Mr. Leousis, expands his hands to show how tall this massive physical file would be.) The last I saw this file was fifteen years  ago, and it had to be carted in, on those four wheel carts: You know, like those carts they use at hospitals? (Some student's heads are seen to bob up and down in assurance.) Today, this file is  probably in electronic form and takes little if any space.

At this experimental, hospital facility, once again, I was kept  for months and treated so, so. I liked all the attention at first: All the ice cream I could eat but after a while, I began to cry because I missed my friends, my school, and my wonderful world in Hellas.

One of the things that scientist soon discovered was that I had the ability to control my body temperature at will. Such a discovery was very exciting for them: I was not able to elevate my temperature any higher, than 45 degrees Celsius, but I could easily lower it to between 36-37. So they encouraged me to practice this control. By so doing, they were now confident; I could live in the "normal world".

At first, I didn't understand the importance of this "self-control".  My parents repeatedly "encouraged me"... (Mr. Leousis, once again, smiles as he quotes the word "encouraged" as he then nods his hands as if being spanked.) ... to practice this self-control. 

Mysteries of the Subconscious

I remember once, when I was bitten by a dog and had to go into the emergency for care, my parents went into a fit. Not because of the dog bite but because of the fear I would not be able to control my temperature and would be discovered. It was repeated multiple times to me, on the way there, not let the nurse or doctor know, "I-WAS-DIFFERENT!"(Mr. Leousis, emphasizes this point.) Under the threat of a whacking, I obeyed.

My childhood in Montreal was anything but "normal". For me to describe these events with you at this moment, would take an entire year of class substitutions.  So let's get started,  with the fourth episode of my stories, "The Secret Garden".

By Elias Leousis,

(Η αγάπη είναι το μελάνι, η σοφία είναι το μήνυμα.) 

Love is the ink; wisdom is the message!

 


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EPISODE X - LOVE, TRUST AND FORGIVENESS

EPISODE X - LOVE, TRUST, AND FORGIVENESS

I accepted an assignment last year to substitute at an elementary school on the East end of Montreal. I was to replace Ms. Ettedanreb in a grade six class. In my arsenal of "Teaching Tools," I carry a number of videos, which are publicly available on YouTube. From these videos, I hope to inspire my students to talk about value systems regarding our relationship with others. One such video is entitled, "Το λάθος - Ταινία Μικρού Μήκους." (The Mistake - Short Film by Antonis Agaoglou):

This film depicts a young girl of about twelve years of age, who is much immersed in herself, possibly having "a bad day." I would encourage my readers if they have not seen this video to have a look by "clicking," on the link above. The moral of the story is not trusting those around you and their good intentions may ultimately scar you, with guilt. After showing this video to the class, I initiated the discussion about a personal experience I had with my young son when he was only two years of age:

I arrived home one day from teaching to be met at the door by my young son. He greeted me anxiously calling out, "Dada, dada, vouh,vough, vough..." and pointing to the upstairs of the house. I placed my briefcase down, took the child in my arms, and hugged him. He continued pointing to the upstairs. I proceeded to climb the stairs with my son; indeed, there was a familiar sound. As I turned the bend on the staircase, I now could see where the sound was coming from; my blood rushed to my head like a cannonball! I could see the hair dryer having been plugged in from the outside of the bathroom. The hair dryer itself, lying unattended in the bathroom sink. I became terribly upset at my son and scolded him, "No, no, no!" The poor child broke into tears, sobbing and crying.

I proceeded to walk down the stairs with my crying toddler in my arms. As I approached the kitchen where my wife was busy cooking and said, "Do you know what he did, he plugged in the hair dryer!" My wife proceeded to explain, that it was not our child who had plugged the hair dryer, but it was her: While blow-drying her hair, the electric power had gone off. She had placed the dryer in the empty sink and had gone downstairs to check with the neighbor to see if their electric power was off as well. They too had no electricity; there must have been a hydro electric power interruption. Listening to this plausible explanation, I became devastated; my heart sank with guilt!

I had accused my young, precious child of something, scolded him for it, for something he had not done! In fact, the poor child was trying desperately to warn me of possible danger, the hair dryer having been left dangerously unattended! How can one ask for forgiveness from a two-year-old, whose little heart had been shattered? He depended on love and trust from his father, in a moment of disillusionment, received neither?

(After, listening to Mr. Leousis's short story, almost all students in the class, put up their hands. Each student was trying to explain their experiences of not being trusted; having been wrongly accused of something, which they did not do. In most cases, the issues revolved around sibling rivalry: Brothers or sisters would commit an act, breaking something, removing an item, etc. and the other innocent child, being wrongly accused and punished.)

I think this story, "EPISODE X: LOVE, TRUST, AND FORGIVENESS", is a much directed at parents as it is to students. What follows should be a lesson for all:

I was about eleven years of age, when like all children, boys especially, I wanted to have a bicycle. My father was adamantly against this, sighting the number of horrific accidents, which had taken place in the city involving bicycles. The attraction to riding a bike, however, was too tempting for a young boy my age to heed my father's concerns.  I decided to rent a bike each time from a bike shop on Rue Napoleon without my father knowing or having given his approval. On beautiful, July afternoon, I rented a bicycle and was "rushing the wind," when I heard the sound of a car horn behind me. I moved closer to the parked cars and continued on my way, thinking that this vehicle would pass by me. Again, I heard the honk of the persistent horn, I moved closer to the parked cars to move out of the way. Looking behind to see who was honking at me, I lost my balance and slammed into the back of one of the parked cars. The vehicle behind me stopped.

Two men in suits got out of their vehicle and rushed over to lift me up. Blood was now rushing down my face and bellows of tears filled my eyes. I tried to resist their care; it was because of their persistence that I had crashed into the parked car. As I fought with them, one pulled out a police badge; now I became more terrified, that I had done something wrong! They took me into their vehicle and asked me if that was my bicycle I was riding. Apparently, someone had called the police about a stolen bicycle, and they were on the lookout for one when they spotted me. I proceeded to explain that I had rented the bicycle from the shop at Rue Napoleon, so they took me to that shop.

After verifying that, in fact, I had legitimately rented the bicycle, they felt responsible for my accident and were now apologetic and concerned. I was not interested in their apologetic gestures but more concerned with what would happen to me when my father found out. So when the officers asked to drive me home, I quickly thought that it would be safer if I were brought to my aunt's house, some short distance away, on rue  l'Hôtel-de-Ville.

When we arrived at the house and rang the bell, I called out to my aunt in Greek, so the officers would not understand, "Thea pes pos meno edo." (Aunt, say that I live here.) When the officers described to her what had happened, she understood. Washing the tears and blood from my face, my aunt noticed that I had broken my front tooth. She advised me not to say anything to my father, else he would be furious that I had rented a bicycle in defiance of his advice. The bruises on my face and especially the broken tooth needed a plausible explanation: When she brought me home, she told my father that I had slipped on her staircase and fallen down.

That night, I entered the Elysium for guidance. Out of the horizon of life and death, bright rising rays hurled into my existence, a chariot of fire and light, hurling down into my presence. It was Helios, the sun God, standing before me, proud and noble, like a true God, but his eyes filled with eternal tears.

“Νέε θνητέ κομιστή του ονόματός μου, μην αψηφάς τα λόγια του πατέρα σου ούτε ο πατέρας σου να επιζητά να τιμωρήσει ενός νέου την κρίση. Μίλησε στην καρδιά του άλλου καθώς κοιτάζω πάνω από τα αστέρια και παρατηρώ τον πολύτιμό μου,Φαίδων. Κοίτα πίσω στα χρόνια που θα έρθουν και μοιράσου αυτή τη σοφία με τους νέους,΄ώστε να μπορούν να γνωρίζουν ότι η συγχώρεση υπάρχει μόνο όταν υπάρχει αγάπη και την εμπιστοσύνη μεταξύ των θνητών και των παιδιών τους.”

(Young mortal bearer of my name, do not defy your father's words nor your father seek to punish a young one's discretion. Speak to each other's heart as I look into the stars and gaze upon my precious, Phaethon. Look back in years to come and share this wisdom with the young, so they should know forgiveness exists only when there is love and trust among mortals and their children.) 

I knew what needed to be done.

Like in the story of the ancient's God Helios, in order to please his son, loaned to him the power of the sun and so the story goes. However, young Phaethon, lacking care and experience started scorching Earth, his punishment received the wrath of Zeus, and eternity of the stars became his just punishment for all to witness.

I tried speaking to my father the next day, but he was extremely busy with work. A week went by before I could find my father in a "quiet moment", safe enough to break the bad news. I glanced over, when my father was retouching some negatives and said, "Father, I have deceived you and don't know how to explain it." He listened. After I had finished relating to my father what had happened, during my accident, he leaned over, rubbed my head, kissed me. He said, "It's alright my son, I love you and trust you, and you are forgiven." However, that did not end it: Because I had been given the guidance of "The Light", to be truthful with my father, that very act, saved me from going blind!

For that week, I felt a throbbing pain in my upper lip and a disgusting liquid seeping through. When I mentioned this to my father, he immediately took me over to the dentist. After examination, the dentist informed my father that the root of the tooth had become infected.  The infection of this abscess was moving up towards my left eye; a few more days and I would have probably lost my sight, if not in both eyes, for certain the left one. I now had seen "the  light,": The love, trust, and forgiveness had saved my sight!

My young friends, as per the advice from Helios, the sun God

“Look back in years to come and share this wisdom with the young, so they should know forgiveness exists only when there is love and trust among mortals and their children.”

I tell my story to you as “The Substitute Teacher” in your class today, that when there is love and trust between you and your parents, there will always be understanding and forgiveness.

By Elias Leousis,

(Η αγάπη είναι το μελάνι, η σοφία είναι το μήνυμα.) 

Love is the ink; wisdom is the message!

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EPISODE XIII - ELYSIAN FIELDS, IMAGINATION IS THE PATH

EPISODE XIII - ELYSIAN FIELDS, IMAGINATION IS THE PATH


Over the past few weeks, during the summer break, a number of readers have e-mailed me, asking questions about what are the Elysian Fields. Where are they to be found and how does one get there? These are just a small fraction of questions regarding this subject. I will try to explain this "experience" as best I can because like all experiences, it is unique to everyone's use of his or her imagination.

I cannot show you the path to the Elysian Fields, there is no map, nor any direction.  I can give you "a sense" of what it is like by telling you my stories that I hope will enlighten you. I will serve as one of the many "guideposts"  which you will encounter in your life on Earth. We are here to aid you along your path to the Elysium Fields. By sharing our wisdom with you, you WILL know when you have arrived at the Elysium Fields for you just reward.

I had to substitute for some senior grades at one of the large high schools in Montreal. In one such class, in walked two identical Afro girls; one led the other because her sister was blind. My curious eyes welcomed them, and I asked the sighted one if there was anything I could do; she smiled at me and introduced herself as Amaboe and her sister's name Kcarobe. I puzzled for a moment and asked the sighted sister if her blind sister would be comfortable if I showed a video. At which point, Amaboe turned to me and said, "It's alright sir, my sister can see through my eyes." I smiled at her and said, "Your sister is very lucky to have you see, The Light."

I would like to have the reader first "view", the following video, which was shown that day, to appreciate what will follow next about my attempt to explain the ELYSIAN FIELDS. The video is titled, Small Pleasures by Constantin Pilavios and can be found on YouTube.

During the showing of this video, I watched intensely how Amaboe's eyes scanned the screen like a hawk gliding the air looking for the smallest of movements on the ground below. She was the viewer; her sister Kcarobe was the receiver. With each minute scene, where the man described his sensual perception of his surrounding, i.e.,  Small pleasures, someone to cover you, dreaming, waking up to the song of birds, fresh-smelling clean sheets, etc... With each scene, a sense is heightened. One could see the stoic reader, Amaboe capturing with her eyes, every essence of the video while Kcarobe's face lit up like the firefly entering the man's sleeve. With each wonder Kcarobe's thrill increased because she knew, the answer to the riddle, long before her sighted classmates could even come close to guessing, that the man was "blind". Thus, our main character in the video, as well as Kcarobe, knew the answer to the puzzle that has eluded humankind from the beginning of time; she knew the path to the Elysian Fields.

Two weeks later, I found myself in Toronto, Ontario: Some good Samaritans had offered me their place for the summer for which I am forever indebted. Each early morning, I would exercise by walking around this park, adjacent to the apartment building, in which I was staying. Most days, I would surpass an elderly lady who was pushing her roller walker: She was frail and weak but determined to push against the cement cracks on the sidewalk and have her daily outing. Each time I would walk past her at a fast pace, I would greet her and she would share a smile with me.

As I continued on my journey, I thought what it would mean for a person to grow old and wondered about the old woman. That evening, I entered the Elysian Fields seeking answers: 

In the reflection of thought and that which is known, I gazed down a valley of sorts and as I watched, an old man and an old woman, cast stones (Petra) behind them. For each stone cast by the old man, a young male child would come to be, in its place. Likewise, a female child would be created from the Petra (stone) thrown by the elderly woman... I puzzled at this scene and could not understand the mystery. As I approached closer, from the side of their tent, I could see the most powerful entity of all, Zeus's light shine on me. He said:

"Ο Δευκαλίων και η Πύρρα, μου έδωσαν ελπίδα για την ανθρωπότητα, εγω θα τους ξαναδημιουργήσω. Ας συνειδητοποιήσουν όσοι με γνωρίζουν, ότι θα πρέπει να ξεχνούν ποιος έριξε τις πέτρες της δημιουργίας τους, η φαντασία δε θα είναι τίποτα περισσότερο και καμιά ζωή δε θα αξίζει να ζει κανείς."

"DEUCALION and PYRRHA, have given me hope for mankind, I have cast them anew. Let all who know me realize, that should they forget who cast the stones of their creation, imagination will be no more, and no life will be worth living." I knew what to do.

The following morning, on my daily walk, I met the old woman on my way, once again. This time I stopped, touched her right shoulder to get her attention and said, "Wheels when you are young, wheels when you are old," she looked at me, smiled and responded: "Except now I have few friends to play with." We both laughed. "That is because you have given up on your imagination," I responded. "Use your imagination," I said. "I see you pushing the old ice cream cart on wheels."


"Look at all those children rushing out for your treats!" The old woman broke out in uncontrolled laughter; her heart glowed with "The Light". She now had taken control of her world and in her childlike happiness called out, "Vanilla, Chocolate, come and get it!"

Passers-by, along the park, soon would stop and listened to our laughter as I would inform them of our discovery, and they would "play along." The ice-cream lady had arrived, and they all pretended to look into her box of goody's, pulling out this and the other treat, and using pretend money to pay for same... It was a joyous morning of open hearts, each of us for that moment, realizing what "The Light's" wisdom, had revealed to me:

The mystery of life is nothing more than small sense experiences, flavored over with a touch of imagination, from the hearts of men/woman, having been given life from "Petra"; willed by the imagination of the Gods.

The old woman was no longer lonely and alone; her friends in the park would wait each morning to meet her and use their imagination to laugh and to play, forever more.
Therefore, my young friends, I hope you realize that what you have in your hearts is the joy of life, revealed to you through your imagination, the path to the Elysian Fields.

If you are sharing this story with your parents or grandparents, please watch the following video "Wake up", by Kostas Karydas. I am sure, they too, have a wisdom to share with you, which will guide you on your wonderful journey of life and to your final destination to the Elysian Fields.


For now, "The meaning of LIFE?

Open your mind to see the hidden layers of reality.

By Elias Leousis,

(Η αγάπη είναι το μελάνι, η σοφία είναι το μήνυμα.) 

Love is the ink; wisdom is the message! 

CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO THE MAIN PAGE.