PAPER BOATS IN THE RAIN

When the rain poured, relentless, grey, and turning everything muddy, I used to make paper boats. Little pieces of paper folded into graceful little boats that floated bravely across muddy puddles.

Back then, I wasn’t thinking about where they would end up. I was just a child, sending stories out on the water.

Not sure where or whom they would reach. Not waiting for something to happen, just making one paper boat after the other and sending them away.

And then one day, my stories found their way back to me.

I was not looking out for them, but they came floating by, each one steady, each one purposeful. They turned into marketing campaigns, posters, and blogs.

Some wore the colors of the brand; some had their own stories to tell. But they all had the wide-eyed wonder of a little child who folded paper bits into tiny dreams and let them go.

But times have changed. And so have we. We traded paper boats for PlayStations and glowing screens. And somewhere down the line we forgot the beauty of idle minds creating beauty out of boredom.

And it reflects even in the way we write and the things we choose to read. Bullet it, say it in fewer words, keep it crisp, keep it concise, get to the point. Oh, just get it done! In the most effective way possible, while skipping the magic. The magic of going slow, savouring every beautiful word, letting the words draw you in and hold you there while it takes you on incredible journeys. Like a flying carpet.

When stories can be told in a way that touches someone’s heart, why tell it in abrupt lines and words that will never linger after they are read? Why read anything that doesn’t make you sigh or smile? As a generation we chase speed so much, that sometimes we forget to slow down and take it all in. It’s all about getting to the point in the fastest, most efficient way possible. Almost like choosing Mc Donald’s over fine dining.

No matter how much we chase speed and efficiency, there is still something to be said for the little joys we find in all the things that we take slow. Like savouring a steaming mug of coffee before the chaos of the day finds us. Like turning towards the sunset or a full moon and being filled with awe. Like the first whiff of petrichor rising from the earth after the sky finally remembers how to cry. Like catching fireflies in glass jars and watching them light up that little world you hold in your hands.

Maybe the best stories we tell must be said by the child inside of us. Because you see, when we grew up, we stopped making paper boats.

Storyteller