transition

Most of us hear the word “storytelling” and think of campfires, children’s books, or maybe a TEDx Talk. But veteran coach and one of my early mentors, Jay Perry, has spent decades thinking about something far more fundamental: the stories that are already running inside you, whether you chose them or not.

Perry calls it the “story sphere,” a term he coined to describe the invisible atmosphere of narratives surrounding us at all times: interior stories, media stories, family stories, political stories. According to Perry, AI estimates there may be as many as a trillion stories operating at any given moment. “Like the atmosphere,” he says, “we don’t necessarily see everything that’s going on, but we know if we didn’t have oxygen and hydrogen and all those things, we couldn’t survive. We don’t survive without story. Story actually is what human is.”

This isn’t a metaphor; it’s neuroscience. Our brains are literally wired to function through story — seeking patterns, confirming what they already believe, and above all, protecting us from perceived threat.

The Squatter Stories

That protective function is where things get complicated. Over the course of our lives, we accumulate what Perry calls “squatter stories,” which are narratives that took up residence in the brain and refuse to leave. Things like I’ll never finish anything; I’m always behind; or Just when things get going, everything falls apart. Many people Perry works with are neurodivergent, and for them these stories often coalesce into a single punishing belief: There’s something wrong with me.

The brain doesn’t mean harm. It’s doing exactly what it was designed to do — protecting you based on patterns it has recognized. But the problem is confirmation bias. “Every time something shows up that confirms that I’m stupid, or whatever that story is,” Perry explains, “the brain digs deeper and deeper into it.” The story becomes identity. It becomes the lens through which you see everything.

Simply telling yourself to “change your story” doesn’t work. As Perry puts it: “Easy conceptually, but to actually do that requires lessening the power of those foundational stories and increasing our narrative intelligence.” Trying to override a deep story with sheer logic, he says, is like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

The Intelligence We’ve Been Ignoring

Here’s where Perry’s work gets truly provocative. He distinguishes between two modes of thinking. Logical thinking works on data, and AI does that better than any human ever will. But there’s another kind of thinking, what he calls Narrative Intelligence, that operates on something entirely different: imagination, intuition, emotion, wonder, common sense.

“Narrative intelligence works on no data,” Perry says. “Logic works really well when the future is likely to be like the present and the past.” In a world changing as rapidly as ours, that’s a liability. The people who will navigate what’s ahead are those who can think in story and can imagine outcomes not yet in evidence, hold multiple possibilities at once, and pivot when the plan stops working.

We’ve been rewarded our whole lives for getting the right answer. That rewired us toward the logical, computational mode of thinking. Now that machines are taking over that function, the undervalued skill — narrative intelligence — suddenly becomes essential.

How Fascinating

What do you actually do when a squatter story shows up? Perry was inspired by conductor and author Benjamin Zander, who teaches a deceptively simple practice: When something goes wrong, say “how fascinating,” and mean it fully, physically, emotionally.

It sounds almost too simple, but the point is precise. You can’t fight a foundational story with a cognitive argument, because the story has far more emotional force than any counterargument you can muster. What you can do is interrupt the pattern with enough energy and presence to actually stop the loop. “How fascinating” isn’t just words. It’s a full-bodied shift in stance that says: I see you, story. And I’m curious about you, not imprisoned by you.

Perry calls this approach “playful story catching.” The goal isn’t to eliminate the stories or shame yourself for having them. It’s to notice them, to create distance from them, and remember that you are the author, not the character.

One powerful technique is shifting your narrative perspective. Our brains are conditioned to protect “I.” But if you can catch yourself in an “I story” and reframe it, such as Laura is having trouble with this instead of I am having trouble with this — the brain relaxes its grip. The protective mechanism doesn’t guard “Laura” the same way it guards “I.”

The Power of We

Perhaps the most striking idea Perry offers is the shift from “I stories” to “we stories.” No one has ever done anything entirely alone, yet we insist on framing our lives as solo narratives. When you expand your story to include others — a community, a collaborator, an idea, even a place — possibilities open that the I story simply cannot access. “The I story is chained by that protective mechanism,” Perry says. “When we start thinking in we stories, things become possible that aren’t possible for the I story.”

He built his community, Story Sphere Central, around exactly this principle. For $22 a month, members from Thailand to Europe gather for group coaching, co-working sessions, creative workshops, and a course called Heroes of the Story Sphere — a name Perry chose deliberately. “I think it takes bravery,” he says. “It takes heroism to show up and actually look for the truth about what the stories are.”

Be Open to the Plot Twist

Perry closes with what may be his most powerful invitation. In a study by researcher Angus Fletcher, veterans with PTSD were given access to every conventional healing modality available including massage, meditation, and yoga. Only one person in the group made a full recovery. What set them apart? They had experienced a plot twist.

A plot twist isn’t something you manufacture. It’s something you receive — a bankruptcy, a loss, an unexpected phone call, an idea that comes from nowhere. What you can do is stay open to one. “If we can open our consciousness to seeing the gifts that are given to us,” Perry says, “that’s why it’s so important to have we stories — because that multiplies the number of opportunities we have for plot twists.”

You are swimming in a story sphere right now.
The question is whether you’re authoring the story or being authored by it.

Jay Perry’s community, Story Sphere Central, can be found at StorySphereCentral.com.
This article is a synthesis of an interview conducted on March 27, 2026