The Next Frontier in Storytelling
The story of us, Icarus, and mythological fake news
Greetings amazing human.
Greetings from Greece, where I recently completed facilitating a 10 day Initiation retreat for women on Crete.
I couldn’t have planned it better myself, to have initiation rituals be part of my own crossing of a major threshold in life. To come to the birth place of the oldest myths that we know of on earth, as I engage the next chapter of my own mythos.
Welcome to our new world— you are now receiving a STORYLETTER, from the platform substack, this is separate from the emails you have been receiving through The School for Sacred Storytelling~ and is a place where we can actually engage with each other.
Why this, why now
There are 2 reasons why we are moving over here.
Writing newsletters is like singing a song to the universe. Who knows where it lands? This platform allows for more community engagement where we can speak to each other.
Over the last year, I could feel that a chapter was closing. And every time I asked for guidance about what was to come, there has been one response WRITE.
But running an online school consumed all of my focus & energy. And while I believe in it’s mission from the center of my soul— it is time for me to return to the place of passion that brought me to the threshold of wanting to inspire others to use their voice: there are stories that are banging down my door that want to be told. And this means doing something different.
So welcome to this bold new chapter. I’m leaving my day job to pursue being a writer. It feels… crazy. And wonderful. And exciting. And let’s get real, it was a lot easier to make these kinds of bold moves into the unknown when I was younger.
My prayer is that the words, stories, and connection will truly serve your delight, your exploration of thoughts and consciousness, your creativity, your understanding of what it is to be a sacred storyteller in our times.
I pray this will be a place of nourishment for you.
And I’m asking you to consider becoming a subscriber.
By becoming a subscriber you are doing a few things…
You are saying YES, the writing here is valuable, and you want to live in a world with more storytelling.
You are acting as a covert agent for the universe, and angel among us, and giving me a sign, a signal, a gesture, that says, “fu*k yes! this is wanted!”
Did I ever tell you about the time Jerry Garcia came to me in a dream to tell me he was my patron saint of doing just one thing? I hope to tell you that story sometime soon. But first this…
A Word About US (aka Our Community)
I dream of this as being a place of communion, because that is what storytelling is, a place of interconnection. And what I love about substack is that we can communicate with each other. We speak about and share what is evoked in our hearts and minds by the stories that are told, and connect and grow together.
I really want to know what would make this space truly valuable to you.
Can you fill out this survey and tell me about yourself and what makes a storyletter valuable to you?
What Can You Expect to Find Here?
Mythic stories about how to understand the times we are in and guidance on how to use them as tools to explore your own consciousness
Stories about the earth as our healer (through a new project I am working on)
Sections from the books I am working on about sacred storytelling as a healing art and ritual and performance & The Whale Dreamer
Random ponderings about the world we are living in
Have I mentioned how much I want to understand who you are reader, and what makes this is an interesting conversation for us to be in together? Please share about who you are and what makes this valuable.
How often?
1 meaty offering once a week. Perhaps a random thought here or there to wet your whistle.
Ok enough: Give me the goods!!
SHOW ME WHAT A NEW STORYLETTER WILL LOOK & FEEL LIKE!
Chapter 1: News worth paying attention to:
Learn about what is behind the writers strike through this great blog by Matt Stoller. Big picture, wide perspective writing.
Chapter 2:
The Story Of How Icarus Followed His Heart
AKA (The first faked Celebrity Death)
If you want to listen to this story here is the audio….
Rumor had it Icarus was dead.
The judges didn’t ask for alibis or witnesses, they had lost communion with the birds, fish, and wind by that point, the only witnesses who could have told another truth.
So the only account that went down in history was by Icarus’s father, Daedalus, a man so infamous for his creative thinking that it truly was the 9th great wonder of the world that no one questioned his account of what happened.
But there is truth in fiction, and even the old myth catchers knew this, and so perhaps they rested easy hearing a father speak truth of what had happened to his son, even if the facts weren’t correct.
And so the first faked celebrity death went down in history – because Daedalus wanted everyone to believe that his son, Icarus, was dead.
Here is what really happened.
What you may not know is that when Icarus was very young, his mother sang the song of his soul to him. It was an ancient practice nearly lost to the woman of her lineage, but she had remembered it though the miraculous act of birth, and as Icarus sprang from his womb, so did his song, and since she was a song catcher, she heard it, memorized it, and sang it to him over and over and over again until the resonance was engraved in his bones so he could always be called back to the center of himself, no matter how lost he became.
What you most likely know is that Icarus and his father were fleeing from the labyrinth of Crete. As you know, Daedalus wanted to head to the city, where he could find another king to take him in so he could continue to express his brilliant innovative ways, but what you may not know is that Icarus was not in agreement with that plan. He knew it was just be a matter of time before King Minos hunted them both down- killing them or forcing them to flee again.
Icarus wanted another kind of life– one that didn’t involve being on the run, or hiding, or involved being forced to create and make for someone else's bidding. He could feel another kind of destiny for himself. His mother’s words rang in his ears, “You are healer– a man of root and stone– and you must be with them in order for your true talents to emerge.”
Icarus was done living in his father’s shadow. He could feel his own gifts bubbling from within, and he wanted to discover them. Following his father would mean a life on the run– and would mean his own true talents would never have a chance to emerge.
All of a sudden, the song of his soul began to emerge from the ocean, and even though he couldn’t see any land, he could feel a specific place where he should land.
Icarus refused to go any further– stating he knew the place below him was his true home. Daedalus looked down– “Son, there is nothing there but ocean. Why would you go there?” And he warned his son, as we all know, not to fly too close to the water for his hand made wings would take on water and get too heavy. The stubborn blood that ran through father ran through son, as he remembered his mother’s words.
“My home is there, I can feel it. There is something beyond what the eye can see.”
A few who carry this legend will say they had a bitter fight where words that cause a kind of damage that can’t be undone were exchanged, and so the two went their different ways. Those who carry that tale do so because they only know how to create a needed change by destroying what they once had in order to leave it. (These people will often cheat in order to end a relationship or do something that forces the other person to abandon or reject them in order to create the change they didn’t know how to initiate out of their own core will power.)
Others who carry this rare part of the legend will say that Daedalus refused to go with his son, explaining that his journey was not his own. Explaining that white Icarus was hearing the call of the wild, the city was his home.
The people who carry this part of the legend came from strong families who had strong shoulders and strong backs. They will say that Daedalus gave his son his blessing, and told him to follow his heart. Even if he didn’t understand what his son saw in the sea, or understand what was calling Icarus, Daedalus trusted his son’s gift of sight and intuition, and so he said, “Icarus, if you can show me that this place you see is real, then I will craft a tale so that no one will come looking for you ever again.”
Icarus flew down to the place in the ocean that was singing the song of his soul, and he flew a circle over that place, and another, and another, and the song got louder, and even though there was nothing to see, the feeling was so strong, that he flew 10,000 circles, raising the waters, over and over and over again.
Until it happened– a mountain rose from the sky, and Icarus landed.
“Come father,” he yelled up to his father who was hovering and sweating from trying to stay close.
But this was not Daedalus’s place and he knew it. The winds picked up, and the older man, while strong, was getting tired. He would have to head on if he was going to make it.
He waved to his son, promised to keep him safe, and left, flying toward the city.
But Icarus yelled back, “Come back for me! Please!”
Some say Daedalus promised to return. Some say he didn’t. We all know that when he got to the city he told a story of how his son’s search for his own godliness led him to fly too close to the sun, and that he perished because of this.
And there was a truth to this. His search for his godliness and his own creation powers led him to kill off a part of himself, the boy who had once followed in his father’s footsteps without complaint was dead, that skin was shed. In his wake was a man, who owned his own island.
Icarus cried for 10 years – even though they had both done what they needed to, the abandonment boiled in his blood so strong that it heated the waters of this island. While his father had done as he promised, and protected him by telling everyone that he was dead, Icarus could not leave this place, and he could not go home.
In the stillness of this place, time stopped.
The secret of who he truly was began to emerge from the sanctuary of silence.
And in the stillness, the waters warmed with the grief from tears
And his gifts as a healer began to emerge.
And in the stillness, his heart healed.
And so it is.
Thank you gain for reading. I love hearing your thoughts, and please do share what would make a weekly storyletter a valuable part of your reading and storytelling life.
with care,
Love this Leah, thank you so much for inspiring me!
A delicious way to re-enter this next day! Waking to some meditation and then tripping over the revisioned story of Icarus
brings me into my day anew…Thank you!