Listen to Your Heart
by Joan Borysenko, Ph.D.
 When I was little, my mother used to ask me if I would jump out the window
just because my friends were doing it. The question made me mad. Her approach
might have lacked finesse, but she was trying to teach me an important lesson
about life. Learn to think for yourself and listen to your heart, or you're
likely to get into trouble.Sometimes listening to yourself is hard, particularly when your circle of
friends has cherished opinions. In our group, the belief that when something is
supposed to happen it will flow along smoothly is a strong one. Conversely, if
something is not meant to happen, obstructions will arise to prevent it. When my
husband, Kurt, and I got married, things went anything but smoothly. We had to
jump over several roadblocks on the way to the altar. The first one concerned
the wedding invitations. We put them in a used manila envelope to keep them safe
on the way to the post office. Instead of mailing them personally, I handed the
big unsealed envelope to a postal worker and explained that individual letters
were inside. That was the last glimpse we had of them. The helpful but confused
man must have sealed the envelope. The whole batch was mysteriously delivered to
the return address, where it laid unopened for months.
The postal service played a second major role in the apparent anti-nuptial
conspiracy. A friend sent flowers to decorate our home where the wedding was to
be held. They arrived on a Saturday afternoon, but since the long package was
too large to fit in our rural mailbox, the letter carrier dropped off a notice
to pick it up at the post office on Monday. Unfortunately, the wedding was on
Sunday.
What's a woman to do? I called a friend to commiserate. "Don't get
married," she yelped in evident distress. "Can't you see that this is
a strong sign? Two signs, in fact! It's not meant to be. Please just call the
whole thing off."
My husband-to-be was less than thrilled with her response. He opined, in the
words of the great master of metaphor, Sigmund Freud, "Sometimes a cigar is
just a cigar." And he was right. We had a wonderful wedding ceremony. Each
of our friends performed a meaningful ritual to help celebrate and consecrate
our marriage. One couple had actually called the chief of the Nanticoke Indians,
the tribe from which some of my husband's ancestors hailed, and got a
description of their traditional wedding customs. The prescribed ritual involved
holding hands, wrist to wrist, so that we could feel each other's heart beating.
It was a powerful metaphor for the intimacy that a good marriage creates. Like
most marriages, our five-year union has had its challenges, but I'm grateful
that I followed my heart and married a man who has helped bring out my love of
life and sense of humor.
A few months after the wedding, Kurt and I left for a vacation to an island
in British Columbia, off the west coast of Canada. Kurt, who's part Native
American, wanted to visit a village of Klahoos Indians that had been repatriated
to their tribal lands on the island. Unlike the United States government, which
continues to oppress Indians and violate treaties, the Canadian government is
more benevolent toward her First Nations people. They had given a grant to the
Klahoos to carve a large ocean-going canoe as part of a program to restore pride
in their cultural heritage.
Thousand-year-old cedar trees nearly wide enough to drive a car through
created a woodland cathedral of deep silence and dappled light. As we
approached, the rhythmic sound of hammer and chisel led us to a clearing where
two men were at work. The head carver was a well-known native artist, a gentle
and humble man with strong hands and a peaceful heart. He showed us the giant
stump of the 600-year-old tree that had been felled to make the canoe. It was
easily eight feet in diameter. Unfortunately, the middle had rotted out and the
tree was hollow. The canoe would have to be very narrow, carved from less than
half the diameter of the tree. He explained that this was the first of many
problems they had encountered.
The canoe was a work of art in any case, elegant and sleek. But there was a
large crack at one end, where it was broken almost in half and would have to be
mended with wooden pegs. The inexperienced tree cutters had not only chosen a
hollow tree, they had also neglected to make a soft bed of needles to cushion
its fall, or to clear the area where the behemoth would land. The ancient cedar
had fallen across a log and had practically snapped in two.
Only a few weeks remained to finish the canoe in time for a festive launch,
long in the planning. A lot of work remained, and the carver had only one
apprentice. We asked whether more people were coming to help. He calmly shook
his head no. Carving is very difficult, painstaking work. Several men had given
it a try, but only one stayed, he told us.
Things are not going so well here in the forest primeval, I thought glumly.
If my friend who had counseled me to call off the wedding were here, she would
probably pronounce the canoe a lost cause as well. I could almost hear her voice
in my head: "When things don't flow, they aren't meant to be."
I turned to the wiry carver with his open smile and easygoing manner,
thinking carefully about how to choose the right words. I hesitated, and then
finally said, "You've had more than your share of problems with this canoe
project, but you seem so positive and hopeful. I'm wondering if there's a
cultural difference. When these kinds of problems crop up in my world, there are
people who take the obstructions as a sign that the project isn't meant to be.
What do you think?"
His wise eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled warmly, revealing a set of
perfect white teeth. "Oh, obstructions are good signs, my friend. Good
signs, indeed. This project is very blessed. The bigger the spirit that is
trying to be born, the greater the troubles that it must overcome. This makes it
stronger. And this canoe has a very big spirit. It is the rebirth of our clan's
pride and our identity."
As the carver spoke of the canoe, I thought about my marriage. For a moment,
I was overjoyed. The carver's interpretation of obstacles was much more positive
than my friend's had been. Then I saw the truth. Whether I picked his
explanation or hers, I still wasn't thinking for myself and listening to my own
heart. I was giving my power away to someone else.
We live in a world of instant experts. They preach on talk shows and write
for magazines. They tell us what to think and how to manage our lives. Eat this
and you'll be thin and happy. Think that and you'll manifest the life of your
dreams.
Be good and you'll never get sick. Follow the signs, and the angels will
guide you.
In a busy world, it's tempting to believe that someone else has the answers.
Sometimes they do, but even then, their answers may not be yours. This week,
remember that you are the authority on your own life. You'll be more peaceful if
you listen for the wisdom in other people's advice, then take what serves you
and leave the rest. In the end, peace comes from knowing yourself ... and
trusting yourself to make decisions that serve life and love.
 This article is excerpted from
Inner
Peace For Busy People, ?2001, by Joan Borysenko, Ph.D. Reprinted
with permission of the publisher, Hay House Inc. http://hayhouse.com
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About the Author
Joan Borysenko, Ph.D., is one of the leading experts on stress, spirituality,
and the mind/body connection. She has a doctorate in medical sciences from
Harvard Medical School, is a licensed clinical psychologist, and is the
co-founder and former director of the Mind/Body Clinical Programs at the Beth
Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School. Currently the president
of Mind/Body Health Sciences, Inc., she is an internationally known speaker and
consultant in women's health and spirituality, integrative medicine, and the
mind/body connection. She is the author of many
books, including Inner
Peace For Busy People and the New York Times bestseller Minding
the Body, Mending the Mind. Joan's Website is: www.JoanBorysenko.com
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