The stories we tell ourselves matter

I'm here to tell those stories — the rest ... is up to you.

May 16, 2025

My passion and fascination with writing began with a love of history. It’s not surprising when you consider the fact that all nonfiction writing, or all writing for that matter, has its roots in history. The challenges we’ve faced, the feats we’ve accomplished, the experiences we’ve had, the stories we pass down are all part of our history.

Therefore all true stories are history.

And all good stories tell the truth.

History in all its wisdom has many stories to tell us and, from those stories, lessons. Lapses in judgement, tragedies we’d ought not see repeated, bravery to aspire to, trust misplaced. Being aware of and reflecting on our history is essential for making the best decisions about our future.

The Greek philosopher Plato believed we must first educate ourselves with false stories, or tales. Imagined though they are, these tales, he believed, speak to a universal truth, helping shape our understanding of our place in the world and society, fostering virtues and a sense of duty

The renowned Christian author C.S. Lewis believed that myths were essential for exposing children to the challenges they will ultimately face as adults. He believed that through story, children could securely learn about and, thus, prepare for the challenges and suffering they’re bound to encounter — in order that they may face and overcome them. As Lewis said:

“Since it is so likely that (children) will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter, but darker.”

Stories are not just for entertainment or escapism; they are how we share ideas and information, build connections and understanding, instill values and virtues, teach right and wrong, and inspire people to “be the change they wish to see in the world,” to borrow a phrase. Through stories we discover universal truths, expand our minds, question the status quo, learn and grow — individually and collectively.

Thus the stories we tell ourselves matter.

Our current story, we’re told, is one of a country deeply divided, at once resentful and boastful. In this story, characters are distilled down to one of two words: liberal or conservative, democrat or republican, right or wrong, good or bad. Without context, without nuance, there is no story. Without story, who are we?

The true dichotomy, in fact, is not in the labels we give each other, but in the values we live by, in the path we choose to take. Thus it’s not a case of left versus right, liberal versus conservative, democrat versus republican. It’s a matter of ignorance versus enlightenment, discipline versus waywardness, truth versus falsehood, seeking versus certainty.

Recently I was reminded of a quote from a book I read. In “Albert Camus and the Human Crisis,” author Robert Emmet Meagher quotes Camus, who, having lived through Nazi-occupied France during World War II, struggled with how to respond to this new level of evil and depravity:

“Contrary to what we sometimes think, the spirit is of no avail against the sword, but … the spirit together with the sword will always win out over the sword alone. … I have never believed in the power of truth in itself. But … when expressed forcefully, truth wins out over falsehood.”

The concept of truth is one we see thrown around a lot nowadays, specifically the phrase “my truth.” But this assumes that truth is an individualized, malleable thing. A stone to be chiseled and molded for the holder’s specific purpose, whatever that may be — for good or for evil. Instead, a more accurate phrase would be “my experience.” Experiences, valuable and insightful as they can be, vary. Truth is universal.

Thus, my interpretation of Camus’ “sword” is not violence or brutality, rather truth backed by action.

Truth by itself is not enough, as Camus so well understood. But truth conveyed through story, that’s a powerful weapon.

So, what do I hope to do here (as you’re probably wondering)? As Douglas Murray so aptly put it, “You just put a fact into someone’s head that they may not have considered, and then the rest is their responsibility.”

I don’t claim to be an expert at anything. I’m not here to preach, prophesize, bemoan or advise. My goal with Spirit & Sword is simple and straightforward: to share with you some stories … the rest is up to you.