Dear reader, most of the times I get to bring you happy stories and leads about cool stuff in town. However, sometimes we learn about tragic news. In fact, sometimes we get the worst case scenario. With it comes a forceful, poignant reminder that life is fragile—fleeting, too, and brutal, and unfair. The older I get, the more often I have to sit with that thought. I’m sure you, too, get me.
Unfortunately, American expat Lethan Candlish recently got one such reminder when Wang Jingyu, an 8-year-old student his wife and himself knew from their experience as teachers, was involved in a motorbike accident and sustained severe Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) as a result. Anyone would react strongly to such a tragedy, but the news hit a little too close to home for Candlish, a survivor of TBI himself in his youth and otherwise a superb storyteller. Urged by his own, first-hand experience and the the urgency of the situation, Candlish set out immediately to put his artistic skills to good use with a fundraising event to help his student’s family with the significant hospital expenses that had arisen. Tragically, the hardest blow was yet to come: Wang Jingyu died before the event could even take place.
Since his passing, and always in discussions with the family and United Foundation for China’s Health (UFCH), the organization hosting the event, everyone involved decided to proceed with Candlish’s initial idea for a storytelling performance where donations are strongly encouraged to support UFCH in their mission to provide medical care for communities in need of aid in China, with a focus on vulnerable children. Stories about Traumatic Brain Injury will take place on Oct 16 at 7.30pm at Beijing United Family Hospital and we greatly encourage you to attend.
In the eloquent words of American novelist and essayist Jan Neugeboren: “There is no word for a parent who loses a child.
That’s how awful the loss is.” Just imagine the strength and generosity it takes to face the most abhorrent pain you could experience as a parent and choose to generate good from it. And, I am sure this sad event has also stirred many thoughts and emotions in Candlish. The last thing I want to do is spoil what promises to be a heartfelt and highly useful event. That being said, I thought the community at large would greatly benefit from reading some additional background on Candlish’s exceptional story of resilience, transformation and endurance. I am not sure that we come out necessarily stronger from the events that shape our lives and leave a scar. But we sure do emerge changed from the tempest.
Hello, Lethan. First things first, allow us to express our deepest condolences for this terrible loss to your school community. I can only imagine you’re still reeling from this blow. How are you doing? Introduce this memorial event to us.
Thank you for your care and for showing support for this event. Learning about Jingyu’s passing was very sad for myself, but my heart and concern are for his family. My hope is to respect their emotions as we treasure his memory by using this moment to help communities in China with donations and using this story to share an experience of recovery –humor, hardships and joys that many people have not been exposed to. This is a story performance that entertains while teaching.
You’re no stranger to TBI yourself, right?
That’s right. On Nov 4, 1999, I was involved in a single car accident where I hit a telephone pole while driving on a country road. As a result, I sustained severe Traumatic Brain Injury (sTBI) and was in a coma for five days, so about a week. I was in the hospital for nearly two months, so often people ask about my time there. And here’s the truth —I have no memory of the first four weeks of my recovery, even at those times after the first week when I was actually conscious.
Man, that must be a trip. On one hand, one could be inclined to believe this could come as a mercy of sorts. But surely it’s more challenging than it appears?
It’s hard to explain – it’s not like you suddenly wake up and start remembering things. It’s a gradual process of your mind being able to hold onto memories a little bit at a time. It’s something I talk about in the performance, but for me, it starts with a picture in my head, and then slowly expands. And it’s not as though there’s a clear path of how this happens – the brain is an amazing tool that we know so little about that trying to force a logic of process we can comprehend is often futile.
In fact, my healing journey continued long after I was finally discharged from the hospital. I was then in intensive outpatient recovery care for the next four months, followed by rehabilitation and care for the next two years. During this time, I graduated from high school and subsequently enrolled at a local university.
So, from the outside at least, you could think that I had a good outcome, all things considered. But the truth is that as I went through recovery, I found it very difficult on a personal level to come to terms with the changes that I noticed after my accident. All of a sudden I was back into my social life, and yet there was this struggle to protect my recovery. Now, don’t get me wrong; I had such tremendous fortune in my survival and the chance I got to heal. However, I didn’t walk out of it without consequences, and those felt like a curse to me at that moment in time. Indeed, I was alive…but was I actually still living? That was the question in my mind as I faced the dramatic changes to my life.
I’m honestly impressed by your eloquence. You’ve been open about this part of your life story in previous storytelling shows, and I must confess that often I would look at you and wonder—I wouldn’t be able to tell that this happened to you, had you not told us. Which is great, but I think there’s also the risk that someone might assume that since you got the “good ending”, so to speak, and nobody can tell, you didn’t go through this very real and highly traumatic transition.
Well, these experiences altered the course of my life in very specific ways. For instance, after the trauma, I was no longer happy with my planned course of study in university. I was planning to be an actor, except I no longer felt comfortable performing a script on stage. Long story short, I ended up taking a semester away from university—it’s good to have a break, right? But that break expanded into two years of family conflict and, quite honestly, some thorny soul-searching for myself.
It truly seems complex, which only makes sense. Something had to give, though, and one day…
…One day, I got to see an enthralling performance by storyteller Jay O’Callahan in my very hometown. It was this defining moment when I walked out and just knew that I had to become a storyteller. I felt this urge to share my own story—the story of my accident and subsequent recovery. Yes, I had faced remarkable difficulties and personal discontent following these traumatic events. But truthfully, I had also been through an equally significant experience, and I was afforded the privilege to live and, as they say, tell the tale. So that’s what I wanted to do, quite literally.
Love me a good turning point to pull the main character out of the darkness. What came next?
Serendipity, and a strange brand of it at that. I somehow learned about the Master of Arts program in Storytelling at East Tennessee State University, and this tidbit was the final wisp of inspiration for me to make a resolution. I would complete my undergrad schooling, and then I would go on to attend graduate school in none other than storytelling.
And so that’s what you did, and by golly, they taught you right, judging by your shows. But fate was on its way to you again…
Several more twists of fate, in fact. While at grad school, I ended up involved with a Brain Injury Rehabilitation and Living Center near my campus. My interactions there informed the core of what I felt was essential to draft my thesis project, which was to focus on healing from severe TBI. In due time, this would lead to my performance piece Who Am I, Again? A Verbal Collage of Stories about Severe Traumatic Brain Injury, which I have since been honored to perform at a series of events throughout the United States. and has since been performed at events throughout the United States.
Lucky them, and lucky us who eventually got you at this side of the world. What changed for you once you moved abroad?
Well, surely everyone goes through a certain series of transformations when they decide to seek a new life overseas. But some stuff stayed with me in this new chapter. When I began teaching abroad, I knew that I wanted to stay involved with the Brain Injury community. So, the next step for me was blogging about it all. Eventually, that led to my writing a book titled Who Am I, Now: Using Storytelling to Accept and Appreciate Self-Identity after TBI. (Available on Kindle via this link.)
Looks to me like your life is defined by a series of meandering events, though isn’t that valid for most of us? What happened after such a feat?
Well, just to name one anecdote of many, this publication led to a collaboration on an article with rehabilitation doctors in Australia and New Zealand. This team was looking at how storytelling has been used in rehabilitation after brain injury and the benefits it may bring for survivors in terms of their self-identity. The book also added a new layer of intent to my long-term goal, which is finding the best way to use storytelling as a tool for rehabilitation for survivors of traumas such as TBI.
I wonder whether it gets tiring when people heap praise onto you in terms of how utterly inspirational your story is, but honestly—that’s about the first word that comes to mind. I have a lot of plain respect for you, as a fellow human but also as a creative who has found a uniquely personal answer to the ever-pressing question of the purpose of art. As I said at the beginning of this interview, I don’t wish to spoil the audience too much on your upcoming event. I think there’s nobody quite like you, and nowhere better than that stage, to evoke and honor your young student through your storytelling. Instead, I would rather close this beautiful conversation with a few different questions: what is it that makes storytelling so crucial to life? What’s good storytelling like? Oh, and a final one: where can we stay updated about your work and career?
Storytelling is what makes us human. Every society in the world shares stories in some manner, and as far as science has been able to tell, we are the only species that does this – other animals can communicate and may use some form of language, but we are the only species that shares knowledge using a story structure. I think this is amazing, and because stories are such as necessary part of what we are, it is easy to lose track of their importance and the amazing power a good story has. Stories inspire, create, teach…the list can continue, but as humans telling stories is vital to what we are.
A story is good – better than that – it is amazing if it is able to touch even one person. A story is wind manipulated by the mouth and throat that can have the power to change life. That is amazing. Stories are meant to be told, to be shared. Stories are community. Any story that is real is good, and by real I don’t mean factual – I mean a story that expresses real emotions and is able to resonate with even one other person. That is the power of a story.
As for my work, you may find more information, as well as a free inspirational blog at my personal website, which is: www.lethancandlish.com
Stories about Traumatic Brain Injury will be taking place on Oct 16 at 7.30pm at Beijing United Family Hospital, the event is free but donations to UFCH are encouraged.
Beijing United Family Hospital (BJU) 北京和睦家医院
2 Jiangtai Lu, Chaoyang District
朝阳区将台路2号
READ: G.I.F.T.: Cultivating Mindfulness Through Nature and Photography
Images courtesy of Lethan Candlish
,https://www.thebeijinger.com/blog/2024/10/11/strong-spirits-stories-heal-memorial-event-beijing