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My new vantage points made me realize how many different stories \u2013 and versions<\/em> of stories – that could be told about this place. I decided to explore this idea by writing two versions of my sit spot story. <\/p>\n\n\n\n ***<\/p>\n\n\n\n Version #1<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Once upon a time, <\/strong>Poplar Park was created in west Calgary. It was a small park, tucked between an elementary school and a row of houses. It had a mix of trees and shrubs, with two benches set perpendicular to one another underneath a large poplar tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every day, <\/strong>a neighbour to the park would visit and ensure that the bird feeder they had placed in one of the trees was full.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Until one day, <\/strong>that person stopped visiting. Life got very busy, and they no longer had time to visit the park. The bird feeder quickly emptied, leaving the birds hungry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because of that, <\/strong>the birds stopped visiting. People would still visit but they would leave cigarette butts on the ground when they left. In autumn, the leaves began to fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Until finally, <\/strong>the large poplar in the middle of the park no longer held any of its leaves. The branches were bare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And every day after that, <\/strong>the space felt empty. With the leaves and birds gone, why would any one visit?<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Version #2<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Once upon a time, <\/strong>Poplar Park was created in west Calgary. It was a small park, tucked between an elementary school and a row of houses. It had a mix of trees and shrubs, with two benches set perpendicular to one another underneath a large poplar tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every day, <\/strong>a neighbour to the park would visit and ensure that the bird feeder they had placed in one of the trees was full. They loved to see the variety of birds that visited the area and felt that this was their way of giving back to the community they loved. Other than the birds, normally the park was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Until one day, <\/strong>the neighbour noticed a stranger sitting by themselves in the middle of the park. They seemed upset. The neighbour decided not to refill the feeder and instead walked up to the stranger and asked if they could sit on the bench across from them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because of that, <\/strong>the stranger shared their story. It was a sad story, but the stranger was comforted by the presence and attention of the neighbour. The two listened and talked and held space for one another. Sunlight shone down through the empty branches of the poplar and warmed them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Until finally, <\/strong>the stranger thanked the neighbour, put out their cigarette and left, feeling better than when they had arrived. Other neighbours had been observing the interaction from their windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And every day after that, <\/strong>the benches became a meeting place for neighbours. People knew it was a place to go if you needed comfort or just the companionship of a stranger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n ***<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, which story did you prefer? Both had the same elements: an empty bird feeder, cigarette butts, and a leafless poplar. Both stories have kernels of truth but take artistic license.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It made me happy to see the bird feeder, and to think about the person who put it there. But when I saw it was empty, I wondered if the birds missed the food. When I first saw the cigarette litter, I was disappointed. But then it made me realize that someone had sat where I sat, at least for a few minutes; it made me wonder what they had thought about. I felt oddly connected to that unknown person. When I first looked up at the sky and saw the empty branches, I felt sad. But then I noticed the sky beyond it and realized with the leaves gone I could see the beauty of the clouds. There were at least two stories that I could think of for each of these experiences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wrestled with these two competing narratives \u2013 the story of absence (no food in the feeder, no leaves, no one willing to pick up their litter) \u2013 and the story of presence (birds, sky, and an unknown companion). Which was the \u2018right\u2019 story, the \u2018true\u2019 story? I know that the second one was more fun to write, likely more pleasant to read, and much more hopeful. But the second story also felt idealistic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our prompt asked us to write about an experience from our sit spot that utilizes a gain or loss frame. Research has found that focusing on the benefits of climate action (gain-frames) produce greater motivations for change than focusing on the harms of climate change (loss-frames) (Morton et al., 2011). Yet, when I reflect on the stories that move and motivate me, they are the stories that have elements of both. Framing climate action through only losses or gains seems too simplistic. Perhaps its more about framing things in terms of absence and<\/em> presence, hope and<\/em> pain, loss and <\/em>beauty. A narrative that evokes both seems more real, somehow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In group discussions, one person will often take on the role of \u201cdevil\u2019s advocate\u201d \u2013 exploring the potential downsides or unintended consequences of an idea. This role can be important, despite its negative reputation. Yet we never hear about the \u201cangel\u2019s advocate\u201d approach. Perhaps this perspective could explore the potential upsides or unintended positive <\/em>consequences of an idea. Perhaps this approach could choose to see beauty, presence, and hope, even when it feels like there is none.<\/p>\n\n\n\n How could this mixed approach (drawing on both gains and losses) deepen our climate communications work?<\/p>\n\n\n\n ***<\/p>\n\n\n\n The story structure I used, known as the story spine<\/a>, was taken from work by Cunningham Bigler (2017), who relied on the original idea developed by Kenn Adams in his book How to Improvise a Full-Length Play: The Art of Spontaneous Theater. <\/em>I also want to take a moment and give credit to my classmate, Mal, as her blog \u201cA Little Thing Called Framing<\/a>\u201d was part of the inspiration for this piece. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n