Stop Forcing Your Stories — Let Them Tell You When They're Ready

The Bealtaine Story that Needed to Wait a Year

Several years ago, I was listening to an interview with a storyteller who lived on the west coast of Turtle Island. He declared that certain stories were only meant to be told at certain times of year. He was likely talking about myths related to salmon spawning, but the details are hazy.

Though I cringe to admit this now, something about the way that he seemed to erect barriers around stories triggered me.

Back then, I was just beginning to imagine a storytelling podcast of my own. So full of excitement about this new project, I wanted to believe that all the stories out there wanted to partner with me.

Yikes. That feels like hubris. I certainly loved story, but I had yet to learn how to respect story.

As I listened to the rest of that interview, I began to understand what the speaker meant. In the years since, I have continued to deepen that understanding of a well-timed story, myth by myth and tale by tale.

He was holding a holy boundary and asking us to honor an ancient truth: the seasonal nature of mythological stories is sacred.

We’re meant to tell myths according to their time (and according to the earth’s time), not just according to the whims our own artistic temperament or the demands of the editorial calendar.

Stories are sacred. We’re required to handle them with reverence and care. (And we need to offer twice as much of both when they’re from cultures that are not our own.)

Stories are more than wordcraft or mere psychological exercises.

Stories are our attempt to wrap human language around the awe we feel as we witness the magic beyond words that exists in the worlds that weave all around us.

Is that story yours tell?
Perhaps a better question: is this the time for you to tell that story?

Certain stories will leap forth to partner with us. Other stories are shy and can only be courted gently. Some stories will never agree to meet you. Some stories will visit for a brief time and refuse to even stick around in memory.

Recently, I tried to force a story to come through me. It was a terrible, necessary mistake.

I’m still working through the feelings and realizations that came from that experience. At some point, I will have much to tell you about all it all, for now, suffice it to say I had willfully forgotten what

Martin Shaw

often says: “Don’t tell a story what it is.” The process has been a painful one, but it’s also been revelatory. I’ve been changed in the best way by the experience (even if I never would have chosen this process!).

Fortunately, another story caught me and assured me that she was mine to tell. In fact, she told me I must tell it because it’s a Bealtaine story, and one does not deny the chance to offer up a story at just the right moment.

Last year, on KnotWork Myth & Storytelling, we shared Brian Walsh’s The Coming of the Sons of Mil. It’s the story of the people who brought Gaelic culture to Ireland. It’s also the story of the defeat of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

In this tale from The Book of Invasions (Lebor Gabála Érenn), you meet the trinity of goddesses for whom Ireland is named: Banba, Fotla, and Ériu. After I heard Brian’s version, I took the chance to tell the story from the perspective of these three sacred queens.

But somehow, it fell flat.

A series of serendipities brought me back to the story over the past few weeks. When I listened back, the bones of narrative were there, but the spirit of the story didn’t shine. That was not the story’s proper moment.

Last year, I called it Three Goddesses Observe the Coming Change. That feels like a very 2024 title, doesn’t it? Here we are in 2025, where, in America particularly, the change is here. And it’s sickening.

And so, this year, I offer you a reworked version I am calling The Goddesses Who Welcomed the Winds of Change.

Welcomed? Yes, welcomed.

This story was conjured in the midst of a the storm of change I refuse to welcome or accept. In this case, I am speaking of the political, cultural, and ecological storm that tears at us, particularly in America.

And yet, I tell this story with the awareness that, at some level, I do accept these changes because, rather than going on strike in protest, I go about my work and focus on the needs of the people and creatures who are close enough to touch each day.

Change is always marked by contradiction and paradox. I don’t think we can ever look at change directly and see things with true clarity. We only understand what’s really happening when we can find the time and distance to stand outside of the tumult of transformation.

Did those three goddesses know what was coming when they welcomed change, when the said “failte” to Amergin and the Sons of Mil?

Listen now and then join me on Sunday (details below!) to let me know your thoughts!

Want to dive deeper into this and other stories? Join us on May 4.

All paid subscribers are invited to the Myth Workers’ Salon.

The gathering will be held on Zoom at 11 AM ET on Sunday, May 4.

Why join us?

• We have the shared sense that mythology matters in this modern moment.

• We know that there’s some sort of personal and collective healing to be found in exploring these old stories together.

• Celebrate Bealtaine with other myth and story lovers from across the globe!