Why Follow Your Heart?

I’ve heard the advice “Follow your heart” from a wide range of sources. Even from people who I didn’t expect say such things, as well as from movies and other pop-culture sources. But what exactly does it mean?

Our heart is an alternative source of direction. It’s radical and individual, as opposed to conformist. But why?

Our hearts contain longings, an ocean of them. The deeper in you go, the deeper the longings that you find. These longings are a collective “will to good”. We all have them inside, and they draw us into a deeper and deeper engagement with life.

What you fear will not go away;
it will take you into yourself and bless you and keep you.
That’s the world, and we all live there.
William Stafford.

Stafford had it right when he wrote that first line. I’ve found that my deepest fears are to do with an as-yet unknown loving within me. The next layer of love, the next urge to serve, fuller and wider than my mind would like, beyond my comfort zone.

Love is unconquerable
And I fear it because on an intuitive level I know that it is bigger than me, it’s unconquerable, as love is. I can ignore it, that’s my choice, but that choice will only lead to suffering, a contracting away from what I know has my number.

So “follow your heart” is actually a tough call. It’s expansive, and it will pull you over the rocks to take you where you need to be. Wouldn’t we want to resist?

We’d resist if we weren’t sure that there was gold waiting for us on the other side of those rocks. Of course, what fool would submit to endless suffering with no possibility of reward? So we need a cultural framework for this sort of journey. And that’s where stories come in.

Joseph Campbell, a masterful and wise mythologist, studied just about every myth, legend, folk tale and fable ever committed to paper, papyrus and stone tablet. And at the end of his study he wrote these extraordinary lines.

Where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god;
Where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves;
Where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence;
Where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.

And he knew this, he lived this, because of his total immersion in the world of stories.

Those who have walked this path, who have followed their hearts through bracken and briar, have encountered unimaginable treasure along the way. The road has been lined with terror and beauty and, ultimately, gift.

And at the end of their journey, they have sat and scratched their heads and wondered how on earth to communicate to others what they have learned and the wonders they have seen.

And they’ve been stumped. Because when you’ve travelled so far, your frame of reference is no longer common. You can describe what you’ve found in everyday language but no-one will understand you.

So, what do you do?

You tell stories.

Stories express the inexpressible
And that has been one of the fountain-heads of inspiration in our culture, and in every culture the world over. Those that have followed their hearts, who have heeded the inner call, and found themselves the other side of the mountain, have called back to us in the language of stories.

And that language reaches us. Not in an everyday sense. Not through the usual filters of our material senses and our rational mind, but by touching on the dreams and vast unknowns that we all carry inside.

Stories can do this because they don’t need to make sense or follow the patterns of our logical minds. Anything can happen. Anything is possible. Another person is taking the risks, not us. But as we walk the path with them, we learn of other possibilities that we had not imagined. We encounter treasure where our rational minds might counsel us to beware of danger. And in the end, we are drawn into the bosom of an awakened potential, the fruit of all that risk-taking.

And then, the next time we feel our own heart calling us, we’ll be more ready to follow. And again, and again. Step by step, with whatever storehouse of stories we’ve imbibed as children encouraging us that this way is good, will serve us, is going to be alright in the end.

Here’s one of my favourite stories about this theme. The Wild Horsey.