The Naked Truth and Story

Sam passed a man at the entrance of the subway on his way to work.  The man appeared there at the beginning of the month. He sat cross-legged in the corner, wearing a wrinkled dress shirt and trousers, and scuffed black shoes.  He was trim, with black hair, peppered with grey, and a distinguished look, hidden behind a scruffy beard. 

Once in a while the man would ask for change in a quiet voice, eyes downcast. Next to him lay a tiny book titled “Truth and Story”.

Sam didn’t really take notice of the man.  He knew he was there but he walked by every day with barely a glimpse. In fact, this was the case for many people.  Hardly a person acknowledged the man. He was simply the homeless person sitting at the entrance of the subway.

It was a Monday on the second week of the month.  The race was on as a flurry of people headed to work, minds already on the day ahead.  As with the previous week the man was there in the corner.  He looked the same, but this time, something was a little different. 

He had a large sign that read in large purple letters, “Once upon a time, I was you…”

A couple of people noticed the sign, they read it, and then carried on with their day.  Sam read the sign and continued his rush to work.  

A few days later the man was again sitting in the corner, and holding the sign, which said:

“Once upon a time, I was you…

I had a successful job like you, and then one day, I didn’t…”

Most days the same people would walk by.  Many people from the week before saw the sign, they read it quickly and as they passed, they looked at the sign again. Sam did too.

A few days later, once again the man was sitting in the corner, holding another sign.  This time the sign said:

“Once upon a time, I was you…

I had a successful job like you, and then one day, I didn’t…

I am a smart man, believe it or not. So maybe you are wondering why I am here…”

As people walked by, they read the sign, they read it again, and then they looked at the man.  They saw his wrinkled clothes and scruffy beard. Then they walked on.  Sam did this too.

The next week, the man added more to his sign. By the third week, people, like Sam, were calling the man Jake, nodding their hello and throwing coins into an old hat that sat in front of him.  Some people stopped to talk to Jake.

By this third week, of course, Jake’s message had grown considerably. It told the story of a once successful man who lost it all. A story that might have been relatable to any one of the people who passed him each day.

At the end of his story it said:

“…Are you interested in my truth now?”

And then, the man was gone.

People, like Sam, looked for the man in his corner. Many of them wondered about him. They were getting used to seeing Jake, to seeing his story unfold.

A few months later Sam was on his way home from work. He was just about to get off the subway when he saw a man who looked vaguely familiar to him.  The man was leaning against the pole holding a book called “Truth and Story”.  

Sam walked up to the man. “Jake?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” the man replied. 

Sam spent time talking to Jake. He asked, “What did you mean by the final sign you did… Are you interested in my truth now?”

Jake pointed to his book.  “This book is a review of a Yiddish folktale.  It’s one of my favorites.”

The story is about Truth.  Jake explained….

In the beginning of time, Truth walked naked upon the earth.  Everywhere he went, Truth tried to share the knowledge that he possessed.  But no one listened to Truth. Truth wandered from village to village, town to town, always with the same reception and always alone. 

One day he came to the house of his sister, Story.  Story lived in a fine and fancy house, surrounded by flowers and ferns, trees and blossoming vines.  A wide, shady porch stretched around the house, filled with comfortable rocking chairs and hanging swings. Story herself sat in a wide wicker chair, dressed in a flowing chiffon gown that shimmered with light and color.  Her curling hair tumbled about her shoulders, and was strewn with flowers and ribbons, and her fingers and throat, wrists and ankles were adorned with jewels. 

When Story saw her brother approaching, she ran to him in distress. “Why Truth, you look awful.  So sad and dejected.  What’s wrong?  How can I help you?” 

“I don’t think anyone can help me, Story.  I’ve gone to every village and town trying to share my knowledge, and no one will listen.  I have such important things to say, Story!  But I can’t make them listen.”

“You’re wrong my brother.  I can help you.  I know just what you need.  Come with me.”  Story led Truth to her bedroom where she threw open trunks and hampers full of clothes, shoes, hats and cloaks. “Dress yourself, Truth.” 

Truth was horrified: “Dress myself in these gaudy things?  Oh, Story, I can’t.  I feel so silly!” 

But Story insisted, and Truth obeyed.  He put on purple trousers made of velvet, a fine linen shirt with flowing sleeves and a quilted vest sewn with glittering jewels.  He wrapped a flowing silken scarf around his neck, and hung golden hoops from his ears.  He put rings on every finger, a pair of silver shoes on his feet, and on his head he wore a hat with a long curving feather.  When he thought he was finished, Story wove ribbons into his hair, poked a flower into his lapel, and hung a satin cloak around his shoulders. 

At last Story was satisfied: “Now you are ready,” she told him. “Back to the villages and see what happens.” 

Truth felt ridiculous, but he thanked Story, and set out once more to enlighten the world.  After one year he returned to Story’s house.  “What happened, Truth?  You look happier than the last time I saw you,” she said.

“I really don’t understand it, Story, but these silly clothes worked!  Everywhere I went, people would gather around and listen eagerly to everything I had to say!  It was wonderful, but I am confused.  I still have the same things to say.  Why will people listen now to what they rejected before?” 

Story smiled: “Don’t you see?   No one wants to listen to the naked Truth, but everyone will listen when it’s clothed in Story.”  (Career and Community Development)

Jake paused then and looked at Sam.

He explained, “So you see Sam. I like to compare me to this story. Sitting in that subway every day, I was the naked truth. People didn’t want to relate to me. They created their own stories of who I was.”

He continued, “I was seen as a homeless person, a bum, sitting in the subway. No one really saw me. They weren’t interested in me. They didn’t really begin to see me until they saw my story unfold. That is when people became curious and engaged with me.

“There’s always a story Sam. We need to slow down and listen carefully to what’s being shared. That means being open to hearing it first, then learning, and even unlearning.

“Sometimes we need to question what we have always thought or known to be true; to stop from looking at it in a way that fits into our own understanding or interpretation.

“Everyone has a story that deserves to be heard. We owe it to the person who owns it, to be able to share it, without judgement. We owe it to ourselves to listen, for greater understanding.”

—

Reference:

Career and Community Development: A School Planning and Teaching Training Handbook; The Art of Storytelling; page 112)