Stories that move

This morning I had the privilege to read a story that’s been written for the Leeds volume of Sfts; written by a guy who’s downwards spiral into homelessness and alcohol addiction was hugely accelerated by a tour of duty in Bosnia in the late nineties. Some of the things he saw there still come back to haunt him, and yet through the help of friends and a charity across Leeds he is finding a pathway back from the edge.

A precious story honed in the crucible of life.

This afternoon I went to a funeral. I didn’t know the guy very well at all. In fact had only spent a few days on holiday with him last summer, amongst a larger group of sun seekers. Then he seemed as fit as a fiddle, diving into the swimming pool and larking around with my two girls. I was drawn to Andrew by his love of life, and the quality of his relationship with his wife Christine.

A few days after the holiday he was diagnosed with motor neurons disease. Today he was buried………….my age, in fact born just a few weeks after me.

Shocking.

On my desk right now I have on the one hand a story of incredible redemption; the story written by an ex squady who’s life is slowly turning round. To my right lies a card to the grieving wife of a man far too young to die.

Some stories like Andrew’s don’t need capturing. He is part of a vibrant family that practice easily the craft of story telling. His life story will be rehearsed round the family table year after year, as the memory of all that makes up one life is fondly recalled.

Others do.

Stories from the streets of Leeds today.

What’s happening where you live?

Home is where your story begins.

When 12 yrs ago I walked away from, well my last proper job, I thought I had walked away for good from that terrible thing called “a make it happen team.” Or at least that is what they were called in my time.

Yep it did, or tried to do what it says on the tin…………..make it happen.

Trouble is, we never quite made it happen, if you know what I mean. O yes we made all sorts of things happen, but we never made, well “it” happen. “It” sort of eluded us.

We tried to do bigger and better “its”, more colourful and spectacular “its.” You name it, we tried it, but we never seemed to turn up when “it” was meant to.

So I took to the road, walking out of the front door or my own home, and walking right into the story line of my life.

I vowed in those days that I would never try to make it happen. If it didn’t flow out of the substance of my life and those who I am sharing the journey of life with, then I would not manufacture some substitute.

Now in these challenging days of finding a way in the publishing world it is very tempting to renegade on that vow made some years ago. After all, surely that’s the whole nature of business…….go out and sell yourself and make it happen. Yes to a measure, and we are committed to networking the festivals, our own networks and online to seed our ideas as far as they will go.

However much you try though, you cannot make a grassroots movement happen.

Impossible. It has be to be from the bottom up, the grass roots.

So again, during this especially quiet week in my little world of business, I have posted another photo to remind me of the starting point in my story, just so I dont get disconnected and start to try……….and make something happen.

I dont know where you call home. It might be a city, a nation that you have left and still long for. It might not be a literal place but  a set of friends; your tribe in other words. But universally, its that place where you feel you belong. Where your story counts; where you are fully known.

Home is where your story begins. You can’t make anything that will last, happen without that.

In for the long haul

I suspect it’s completely explainable, but you come back from an adrenalin packed week in London, full of promise and vision, then after some great fun on the streets of Leeds………………you sit in front of the lap top waiting for the phone to ring.

Yep I know I shouldn’t be saying that. “Always project an aura of busyness and purpose” would be what the marketing boys would say. Yet this is just a very quiet start to this week.

The metaphorical pin just dropped; I heard it.

So today I have drawn great encouragement from a link to  an article put my way by a mate called Lee, on a similar journey to me. I suppose he likens seeding an idea and building a business to the horse and cart approach…………..bit by bit in other words. Just keep going in the right direction and, eventually, you will get there.

So ignore the overnight successes and put to the back of your mind any perceived pressure you mght feel from investors. (None of which is real)Just take each day one connection at a time, one story at a time, one partnership at a time.

So that is what I am doing today. No the phone is not ringing incessantly. I am not fighting my way through a huge backlog of orders for books and requests for help in trying to shape a collection of stories.

What am I doing instead? Well, taking each opportunity, however small, one at a time to keep seeding that which I have sight of. The idea that dropped into my lap in the coffee bar of Damascus some eighteen months ago, as I listened to the arabic storyteller.

So for my sake, not yours, I have posted a picture of him today, or at least his look a like.

To remind me of the journey I am on, lest I wander off into a field of cabbages.

 I might not be the best at marketing.; to be honest I hate that whole thing. And I am sure there are others with far more dynamism and oosing all sorts of connections and influence.

As for me? Well, its a long way from my home to Damascus, especially when you walk it.  So yep Steve, todays self help lesson is all about the horse and cart.

Step by step, one at a time.

Cabbage head

Tonight I have to say I don’t feel hugely inspired. Feel a bit of a cabbage head actually, so I thought I would post this photo of a celebrated cabbage! In fact it is one of the largest ever given to me, not that I have been given many cabbages.

These are a couple of my mates holding it up as we walked through the West Bank, just outside Jenin.

They’re a couple of cabbage heads so quite appropriate I reckon.

Maybe I should get a tee shirt printed saying “I went to the West Bank and all I came back with was this cabbage.” No……….maybe not, because I actually came back profoundly impacted and I hate those tee shirts.

The West Bank was one of the most moving places I have been to, and like many places we walked through, people who had little to give would always give of their substance.

Tonight therefore, to save you from useless ramblings from a  cabbage head, I am giving you links to the last couple of  posts on the web site. Take a look. They will inspire you far more than a few dribbled out words from me.

Grand Central……a poem by Shazza

The Kiss……………….a short story by Mark

Truly inspiring stuff. Thanks Shazza, and thanks Mark.

Update on the company

This has been a good couple of weeks for Sfts.

Yesterday we did our first hit on the streets of Leeds, gathering small video clips from a whole bunch of people, including buskers, street runners (You know thse who jump from building to building risking life and limb in the process) and an anarchist.  Some will shape through into stories; others will simply feature on the web site. Great people….great fun!

This morning I listened to a recording of our first radio programme that we have prepared for Cross Rhythym Radio. All about the walk to Rome it should go live sometime this summer. Just great to re live the adventure.

We have sold four shares over the last 40 days! Awesome….that keeps us going until the end of August If anyone is interested in investing then click here for a shortened version of the business plan.  A group of people can invest, charities can or individuals.

As you know we have commissioned the London book and upgraded the web site. There is a lot of interest rising in the capital. If anyone else would like to be involved in this journey then do email steve@storiesfromthestreet.com 

So good days. I am pleased.