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The problem with writing daily posts like this is figuring out what to say. Some days I think I've run out of words. When that happens, if I can listen to the universe then I might hear something.
That happened today. I had no idea what to write. I went out to run errands and, while at the printers to pick up postcards for the KC fringe, I glanced at their tv. It was one of my very favorite Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes (what, you think having a favorite is weird?), Darmok.
If you haven't seen it, it's about an encounter with an alien species that communicate through metaphor, and the extraordinary length their leader goes to help Captain Picard understand. It's about the power of shared effort, of language, and most importantly, of stories.
There is a scene where Picard tells a very brief version of the story of Gilgamesh and Enkidu. The first time I saw it in 1991, I wept. I wasn't sure why, but I knew it meant something important inside of me. You can see it here.
SPOILERS FINISHED
By 1991 I had met Brother Blue, taken the fateful storytelling course with him and then went on with the rest of my life. I was thinking I would be a writer or, if I was lucky, a folklorist (my degree is in folklore). I didn't yet know that my path would be a bit of both and more. That episode, that myth so briefly told, helped give me clarity that my path would be different. Even though I had known Gilgamesh for years, even though I studied with one of its translators, something about this simple telling was overwhelming. I was so moved by the story that I wanted to tell it myself.
30+ years later, here I am. I have been telling Gilgamesh for decades. For me, it's a story of friendship and survival and loss, and I tell it as such. Whenever I tell it, I always say, "Gilgamesh and Enkidu were friends," and clasp my hands. Every time, someone notices and smiles. It's not verbatim from Picard, but close enough.
I love how this ancient story–told in an adequate television series–seen by a 23 year old me–helped send me on the journey to my life's work. I love how Gilgamesh is relevant still and will be in a fictional future. I love how every time I have told this story for the last 30 years, two things happen: one, someone weeps and find their own meaning in it, and two, someone asks if I have seen Darmok. I have.
It helped change everything. It helped me come to this moment, where you are reading my words and, I hope, feeling some connection.
Laura tells Gilgamesh, tears in her eyes, feet firm on the ground.
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