The Power Of Story To Heal
(This is a translation of a conversation I had with young adults at Star House in Boulder Colorado. It kind of jumps all over the place because it doesn’t have the audience's input and questions. You can see it as a video on youtube)
At Sage Programs in Boulder, CO, storytelling is a core practice for supporting children’s spiritual and emotional growth. Through oral stories, children can experience healing, reflection, and deeper connection to themselves and others.
I believe that stories are food for the soul…
When I go looking for a story to tell, I’m not looking for something cute or convenient. I’m looking for something that feels true; something that stirs me awake.
A real story has to feed both of us — the child and me.
When I find one that does, I live with it. I work with it. It becomes my teacher. Sometimes a story shows me something I’ve been avoiding, or holds up a mirror to the parts of me that still need to grow. A story might even quicken me spiritually, make me more awake to the world and to myself. If a story doesn’t have that deeper current — that spark of mystery that connects heaven and earth — I can’t use it. It isn’t alive.
Rudolf Steiner, whose work in Waldorf education shapes so much of my own, said he wouldn’t tell us what to teach — only give indications. He trusted teachers to find what sings in their own hearts. I believe that’s what makes the difference between routine and magic. When a story lives in me — when its spirit soars through my words — the children feel it. That’s the moment when the work becomes alive.
Stories as Nourishment
I believe fairy tales aren’t just for children — they’re for all of us.
Children live in pictures. Their souls feed on those pictures like plants turning toward sunlight. Long after childhood ends, those images stay inside them, quietly shaping courage, empathy, and hope.
Parents sometimes worry about the dark parts of old fairy tales — witches who threaten to eat you, forests filled with danger. But I’ve learned there’s a vast difference between hearing something dark and seeing it. When a story is told, the child imagines it only as deeply as they can bear. And within the story’s rhythm, good always triumphs over evil.
Children need that. We all need that.
Stories remind us that while the world can be frightening, it also leans toward redemption. There is order hidden in the chaos, light buried inside the dark.
Naming the Shadow
I believe story is how we name our shadows.
At Sage Programs in Boulder, Colorado, we’ve seen that there are times when a child’s behavior can’t be reached through logic — when they are too young, too , or too wild to hear words of correction. Talking rarely works. But stories do.
Once, I had a little girl who tried to control everyone in her play group. She decided who would be the mother, the father, the baby, the princess — and if someone disagreed, she shut them out. We guided her gently, but it didn’t change anything.
So I wrote her a story.
It was about a buffalo who entered a peaceful community of animals and disrupted everything. He splashed water, frightened the others, and made a mess of their harmony. In the end, he learned what it meant to be a friend.
When I told that story, the little girl lit up. Guess who always wanted to be the buffalo? She lived that role again and again until, without realizing it, she began to change. Through play, she found what no lecture could have given her — self-knowledge.
That is the medicine of story. It heals without judgment. It transforms without demand.
The Teacher Becomes the Student
Over time, I’ve learned that children are the best mirrors. They show you where you’re still asleep. When a child triggers me — when I feel irritated or helpless — I know that the discomfort is pointing to something unhealed in me.
Children don’t just learn from adults. Adults evolve because of children.
Every time I meet that edge in myself, a story helps bridge the gap. It brings what’s unconscious into the light. It gives shape to what’s wordless. Story is my practice — my way of meeting both my students and my own unfinished humanity with compassion.
The Power of Storytelling
As my students grow, so do the stories. We move from fairy tales to myths, to biographies, to history. I still tell everything aloud — no slides, no videos, no screens.
When I first told the story of World War II, I felt the weight of what I was bringing. My students had never heard of Hitler or the atomic bomb. How could I tell them about such things? But when I spoke the story, without pictures, I saw how they worked with it inwardly. They built it in their imaginations, not with fear but with reverence.
There is something sacred in the spoken word. It invites the listener to co-create meaning. It builds inner pictures instead of offering ready-made ones. And when the imagination is alive, the human spirit is safe.
Every Story Is a Mirror
I believe that every story is also about me.
The forest, the witch, the king, the fool — they all live inside me somewhere. The landscapes of these tales are maps of the inner world. There’s no longer a need to cast good and evil outside ourselves; both live within.
Fairy tales and myths are roadmaps for the soul. Each time I return to one, it gives me something new because I have become someone new. The story meets me exactly where I am, again and again.
Where I Am in the Story
I believe that stories are how we remember who we are.
They remind us that transformation is always possible, that even in our darkest hours, something inside us knows the way home. Each time I tell a story, I ask myself and my students the same question: Where are you in this story?
Because the truth is, we are all in it — the fool wandering through the forest, the child naming the shadow, the teacher learning to listen.
I believe in stories because they keep me awake to wonder. They keep me humble in the face of mystery. And when I tell a story that is truly alive in me, I can feel it move through the room — child to teacher, heart to heart — reminding us that the world is still full of magic, if only we’re willing to believe in it.
At Sage Programs in Boulder CO, storytelling is one of many ways we create spaces for reflection, connection, and growth. Our programs are grounded in community, nature, and the belief that learning happens through lived experience.
Learn more about our programs and approach here.
