Mindfulness and the Art of Storytelling

The anthropologist Gregory Bateson once told an anecdote about a computer being asked whether it would ever think like a human being. After processing the question, it responded: “That reminds me of a story.” Bateson used this image to highlight a key idea—that human intelligence is not only computational but also narrative, rooted in our capacity to perceive meaningful patterns and connections that emerge as stories (Bateson, 1979).

Storytelling is one of the oldest and most powerful ways humans transmit wisdom, regulate emotion, and make meaning from experience. Within mindfulness-oriented psychotherapy, it offers an indirect pathway to change—helping clients shift perspective, loosen rigid patterns, and cultivate psychological flexibility through image and metaphor. Zen traditions make skillful use of brief, evocative forms—koans, anecdotes, and parables—to gently interrupt habitual thinking and invite direct, embodied insight.

Consider the old Zen story sometimes called “Muddy Road.” Two monks were traveling a rain-soaked path when they came upon a young woman unable to cross a muddy intersection. Without hesitation, the elder monk lifted her, carried her across, set her down, and walked on. Hours later his companion could no longer contain himself: monks were not supposed to go near women, he protested, so why had he done it? The elder monk replied that he had set the woman down at the roadside long ago—then asked, gently, why his friend was still carrying her (Reps & Senzaki, 1957).

The story lands not as a rule but as a recognition. We, too, set things down in the world and then carry them for miles in the mind.

The story we tell about ourselves

And then there is the story we tell about ourselves—the running narrative that reinforces our sense of identity, whether or not it is accurate. I’m the kind of person who… I always… I never… These story lines can be comforting, even protective. But they can also quietly script our lives, narrowing what feels possible and rehearsing the same scenes long after the moment has passed.

The practice of mindfulness offers a way to disidentify from our stories—to meet them as mental events rather than fixed truths. In that noticing, something opens: a sense of spaciousness, and a measure of freedom from unnecessary stress and suffering. The corresponding process of cognitive defusion in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy cultivates the same spaciousness (Hayes, Strosahl, & Wilson, 2012)—the freedom to live with our stories without necessarily living from them.

Noticing the stories that no longer serve you

A story is hard to set down before you’ve noticed you’re holding it. A few signals that one has taken the wheel:

•      Signature phrases. Absolutes like always, never, everyone, no one, or familiar refrains such as I’m just not a person who…, are often the opening lines of a well-worn plot.

•      Emotional spikes. When a reaction feels larger than the moment warrants, a story has usually been triggered beneath it.

•      Case-building. Notice the mind assembling evidence for a conclusion it has already reached.

•      Loops. Replaying the past and rehearsing the future are stories told on repeat—the texture of rumination and worry.

•      The felt sense. Stories can surface in the body. Tightening, bracing, or heaviness can announce a narrative before you’ve put it into words.

Disentangling from the stories that don’t support you

Once a story is seen, you can begin to loosen its grip—moving in the direction of ease, compassion, and joy:

•      Name it. Ah, here’s the “not good enough” story. Naming turns the story from something you are into something you’re noticing.

•      Add a little space. The simple prefix I’m having the thought that… restores the gap between you and the thought.

•      Thank the mind. Most unhelpful stories are old protectors. A nod of gratitude softens the struggle without obeying the script.

•      Let it be weather. Treat the story as passing mental climate—arising and dissolving—rather than the ground you stand on.

•      Return to the senses. The breath, the body, and the sounds of the room are always here; the story is almost always somewhere else.

•      Ask three questions. Is it true? Is it helpful? Whose story is it?

•      Hold it lightly. Said in a silly voice or sung aloud, even a heavy story can lose its authority. Humor is a form of freedom.

Writing a more skillful story

Disentangling clears the ground, but we are storytelling creatures—we will author something. I sometimes catch myself in the paradox of it: the moment I insist "I'm not telling a story," I've just told one. The invitation, then, isn't to live story-free but to write more wisely—and to hold even our most factual-feeling accounts with a light hand. Begin from your values rather than your stressors. Our stories tend to organize themselves around what's wrong—the worry, the setback, the old grievance—because difficulty is loud and insistent. But a life authored only from its troubles stays small. Ask instead what you most want to stand for, and let that quieter question shape the plot.

Look, too, for the moments that don’t fit the dominant plot—the quiet evidence that you are more than your favorite story about yourself. And hold the new story lightly as well; the aim is not a better cage but more room to move.

In the end, mindfulness doesn’t ask us to stop telling stories. It invites us to become more conscious authors—aware of the tale unfolding, free to revise it, and present enough to set it down when the road turns muddy.

References

Bateson, G. (1979). Mind and nature: A necessary unity. E. P. Dutton.

Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K. D., & Wilson, K. G. (2012). Acceptance and commitment therapy: The process and practice of mindful change (2nd ed.). The Guilford Press.

Reps, P., & Senzaki, N. (Comps.). (1957). Zen flesh, Zen bones: A collection of Zen and pre-Zen writings. Charles E. Tuttle.

© 2026 Larry Cammarata, Ph.D., Licensed Psychologist and Mindfulness Educator

Mindfulness Travels provides continuing education retreats in beautiful, inspiring places throughout the world with leaders in the fields of mindfulness-based psychology, process-based therapy, and mindful movement.