Chicken Soup for the Soul 20th Anniversary Edition

by Jack Canfield

  “Ah. That really is impressive. You must all be very proud.”

  We walked away. I said to him, “I haven’t seen anyone like you since Man of La Mancha.”

  “When those men digest my words, they will feel better for it. Somehow the city will benefit from their happiness.”

  “But you can’t do this all alone!” I protested. “You’re just one man.”

  “The most important thing is not to get discouraged. Making people in the city become kind again is not an easy job, but if I can enlist other people in my campaign...”

  “You just winked at a very plain-looking woman,” I said.

  "Yes, I know," he replied. "And if she's a schoolteacher, her class will be in for a fantastic day."

  ~Art Buchwald

  A Simple Gesture

  Everybody can be great... because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.

  ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

  Mark was walking home from school one day when he noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all of the books he was carrying, along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove and a small tape recorder. Mark knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles. Since they were going the same way, he helped to carry part of the burden. As they walked Mark discovered the boy’s name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball and history, that he was having a lot of trouble with his other subjects and that he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

  They arrived at Bill’s home first and Mark was invited in for a Coke and to watch some television. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home. They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice, then both graduated from junior high school. They ended up in the same high school where they had brief contacts over the years. Finally the long awaited senior year came, and three weeks before graduation, Bill asked Mark if they could talk.

  Bill reminded him of the day years ago when they had first met. “Do you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things home that day?” asked Bill. “You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn’t want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mother’s sleeping pills and I was going home to commit suicide. But after we spent some time together talking and laughing, I realized that if I had killed myself, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up my books that day, you did a lot more. You saved my life.”

  ~John W. Schlatter

  The Smile

  Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other — it doesn’t matter who it is — and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.

  ~Mother Teresa

  Many Americans are familiar with The Little Prince, a wonderful book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. This is a whimsical and fabulous book and works as a children’s story as well as a thought-provoking adult fable. Far fewer are aware of Saint-Exupéry’s other writings, novels and short stories.

  Saint-Exupéry was a fighter pilot who fought against the Nazis and was killed in action. Before World War II, he fought in the Spanish Civil War against the fascists. He wrote a fascinating story based on that experience entitled The Smile (Le Sourire). It isn’t clear whether or not he meant this to be autobiographical or fiction. I choose to believe it is the former.

  He said that he was captured by the enemy and thrown into a jail cell. He was sure from the contemptuous looks and rough treatment he received from his jailers that he would be executed the next day. From here, I’ll tell the story as I remember it in my own words.

  “I was sure that I was to be killed. I became terribly nervous and distraught. I fumbled in my pockets to see if there were any cigarettes that had escaped their search. I found one and because of my shaking hands, I could barely get it to my lips. But I had no matches; they had taken those.

  “I looked through the bars at my jailer. He did not make eye contact with me. After all, one does not make eye contact with a thing, a corpse. I called out to him ‘Have you got a light, por favor?’ He looked at me, shrugged and came over to light my cigarette.

  “As he came close and lit the match, his eyes inadvertently locked with mine. At that moment, I smiled. I don’t know why I did that. Perhaps it was nervousness, perhaps it was because, when you get very close, one to another, it is very hard not to smile. In any case, I smiled. In that instant, it was as though a spark jumped across the gap between our two hearts, our two human souls. I know he didn’t want to, but my smile leaped through the bars and generated a smile on his lips, too. He lit my cigarette but stayed near, looking at me directly in the eyes and continuing to smile.

  “I kept smiling at him, now aware of him as a person and not just a jailer. And his looking at me seemed to have a new dimension, too.

  ‘Do you have kids?’ he asked.

  “‘Yes, here, here.’ I took out my wallet and nervously fumbled for the pictures of my family. He, too, took out the pictures of his niños and began to talk about his plans and hopes for them. My eyes filled with tears. I said that I feared that I’d never see my family again, never have the chance to see them grow up. Tears came to his eyes, too.

  “Suddenly, without another word, he unlocked my cell and silently led me out. Out of the jail, quietly and by back routes, out of the town. There, at the edge of town, he released me. And without another word, he turned back toward the town.

  “My life was saved by a smile.”

  Yes, the smile — the unaffected, unplanned, natural connection between people. I tell this story in my work because I’d like people to consider that underneath all the layers we construct to protect ourselves, our dignity, our titles, our degrees, our status and our need to be seen in certain ways — underneath all that, remains the authentic, essential self. I’m not afraid to call it the soul. I really believe that if that part of you and that part of me could recognize each other, we wouldn’t be enemies. We couldn’t have hate or envy or fear. I sadly conclude that all those other layers, which we so carefully construct through our lives, distance and insulate us from truly contacting others. Saint-Exupéry’s story speaks of that magic moment when two souls recognize each other.

  I’ve had just a few moments like that. Falling in love is one example. And looking at a baby. Why do we smile when we see a baby? Perhaps it’s because we see someone without all the defensive layers, someone whose smile for us we know to be fully genuine and without guile. And that baby-soul inside us smiles wistfully in recognition.

  ~Hanoch McCarty

  Amy Graham

  The most important thing in illness is never to lose heart.

  ~Nikolai Lenin

  After flying all night from Washington, D.C., I was tired as I arrived at the Mile High Church in Denver to conduct three services and hold a workshop on prosperity consciousness. As I entered the church, Dr. Fred Vogt asked me, “Do you know about the Make-A-Wish Foundation?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Well, Amy Graham has been diagnosed as having terminal leukemia. They gave her three days. Her dying wish was to attend your services.”

  I was shocked. I felt a combination of elation, awe and doubt. I couldn’t believe it. I thought kids who were dying would want to go see Disneyland, meet Sylvester Stallone, Mr. “T” or Arnold Schwarzenegger. Surely they wouldn’t want to spend their final days listening to Mark Victor Hansen. Why would a kid with only a few days to live want to come hear a motivational speaker? Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted...

  “Here’s Amy,” Vogt said as he put her frail hand in mine. Before me stood a 17-year-old girl wearing a bright red and orange turban to cover her head, which was bald from all of the chemotherapy treatments. Her frail body was bent and weak. She said, “My two goals
were to graduate from high school and to attend your sermon. My doctors didn’t believe I could do either. They didn’t think I’d have enough energy. I got discharged into my parents’ care... This is my mom and dad.”

  Tears welled in my eyes; I was choked up. My equilibrium was being shaken. I was totally moved. I cleared my throat, smiled and said, “You and your folks are our guests. Thanks for wanting to come.” We hugged, dabbed our eyes and separated.

  I’ve attended many healing seminars in the United States, Canada, Malaysia, New Zealand and Australia. I’ve watched the best healers at work and I’ve studied, researched, listened, pondered and questioned what worked, why and how.

  That Sunday afternoon I held a seminar that Amy and her parents attended. The audience was packed to overflowing with over a thousand attendees eager to learn, grow and become more fully human.

  I humbly asked the audience if they wanted to learn a healing process that might serve them for life. From the stage it appeared that everyone’s hand was raised high in the air. They unanimously wanted to learn.

  I taught the audience how to vigorously rub their hands together, separate them by two inches and feel the healing energy. Then I paired them off with a partner to feel the healing energy emanating from themselves to another. I said, “If you need a healing, accept one here and now.”

  The audience was in alignment and it was an ecstatic feeling. I explained that everyone has healing energy and healing potential. Five percent of us have it so dramatically pouring forth from our hands that we could make it our profession. I said, “This morning I was introduced to Amy Graham, a 17-year-old, whose final wish was to be at this seminar. I want to bring her up here and let you all send healing life force energy toward her. Perhaps we can help. She did not request it. I am just doing this spontaneously because it feels right.”

  The audience chanted, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Amy’s dad led her up onto the stage. She looked frail from all of the chemotherapy, too much bed rest and an absolute lack of exercise. (The doctors hadn’t let her walk for the two weeks prior to this seminar.)

  I had the group warm up their hands and send her healing energy, after which they gave her a tearful standing ovation.

  Two weeks later she called to say that her doctor had discharged her after a total remission. Two years later she called to say she was married.

  I have learned never to underestimate the healing power we all have. It is always there to be used for the highest good. We just have to remember to use it.

  ~Mark Victor Hansen

  A Story for Valentine’s Day

  We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.

  ~Cynthia Ozick

  Larry and Jo Ann were an ordinary couple. They lived in an ordinary house on an ordinary street. Like any other ordinary couple, they struggled to make ends meet and to do the right things for their children.

  They were ordinary in yet another way — they had their squabbles. Much of their conversation concerned what was wrong in their marriage and who was to blame.

  Until one day when a most extraordinary event took place.

  “You know, Jo Ann, I’ve got a magic chest of drawers. Every time I open them, they’re full of socks and underwear,” Larry said. “I want to thank you for filling them all these years.”

  Jo Ann stared at her husband over the top of her glasses. “What do you want, Larry?”

  “Nothing. I just want you to know I appreciate those magic drawers.”

  This wasn’t the first time Larry had done something odd, so Jo Ann pushed the incident out of her mind until a few days later.

  “Jo Ann, thank you for recording so many correct check numbers in the ledger this month. You put down the right numbers 15 out of 16 times. That’s a record.”

  Disbelieving what she had heard, Jo Ann looked up from her mending. “Larry, you’re always complaining about my recording the wrong check numbers. Why stop now?”

  “No reason. I just wanted you to know I appreciate the effort you’re making.”

  Jo Ann shook her head and went back to her mending. “What’s got into him?” she mumbled to herself.

  Nevertheless, the next day when Jo Ann wrote a check at the grocery store, she glanced at her checkbook to confirm that she had put down the right check number. “Why do I suddenly care about those dumb check numbers?” she asked herself.

  She tried to disregard the incident, but Larry’s strange behavior intensified.

  “Jo Ann, that was a great dinner,” he said one evening. “I appreciate all your effort. Why, in the past 15 years I’ll bet you’ve fixed over

  14,000 meals for me and the kids.”

  Then “Gee, Jo Ann, the house looks spiffy. You’ve really worked hard to get it looking so good.” And even “Thanks, Jo Ann, for just being you. I really enjoy your company.”

  Jo Ann was growing worried. “Where’s the sarcasm, the criticism?” she wondered.

  Her fears that something peculiar was happening to her husband were confirmed by 16-year-old Shelly, who complained, “Dad’s gone bonkers, Mom. He just told me I looked nice. With all this make-up and these sloppy clothes, he still said it. That’s not Dad, Mom. What’s wrong with him?”

  Whatever was wrong, Larry didn’t get over it. Day in and day out he continued focusing on the positive.

  Over the weeks, Jo Ann grew more accustomed to her mate’s unusual behavior and occasionally even gave him a grudging “Thank you.” She prided herself on taking it all in stride, until one day something so peculiar happened, she became completely discombobulated:

  “I want you to take a break,” Larry said. “I am going to do the dishes. So please take your hands off that frying pan and leave the kitchen.”

  (Long, long pause.) “Thank you, Larry. Thank you very much!” Jo Ann’s step was now a little lighter, her self-confidence higher and once in a while she hummed. She didn’t seem to have as many blue moods anymore. “I rather like Larry’s new behavior,” she thought.

  That would be the end of the story except one day another most extraordinary event took place. This time it was Jo Ann who spoke.

  “Larry,” she said, “I want to thank you for going to work and providing for us all these years. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I appreciate it.”

  Larry has never revealed the reason for his dramatic change of behavior no matter how hard Jo Ann has pushed for an answer, and so it will likely remain one of life’s mysteries. But it’s one I’m thankful to live with.

  You see, I am Jo Ann.

  ~Jo Ann Larsen

  Deseret News

  Carpe Diem!

  Why not go out on a limb? Isn’t that where the fruit is?

  ~Frank Scully

  One who stands as a shining example of courageous expression is John Keating, the transformative teacher portrayed by Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society. In this masterful motion picture, Keating takes a group of regimented, uptight and spiritually impotent students at a rigid boarding school and inspires them to make their lives extraordinary.

  These young men, as Keating points out to them, have lost sight of their dreams and ambitions. They are automatically living out their parents’ programs and expectations for them. They plan to become doctors, lawyers and bankers because that is what their parents have told them they are going to do. But these dry fellows have given hardly any thought to what their hearts are calling them to express.

  An early scene in the movie shows Mr. Keating taking the boys down to the school lobby where a trophy case displays photos of earlier graduating classes. “Look at these pictures, boys,” Keating tells the students. “The young men you behold had the same fire in their eyes that you do. They planned to take the world by storm and make something magnificent of their lives. That was 70 years ago. Now they are all pushing up daisies. How many of them really lived out their dreams? Did they do what they set out to accomplish?” Then Mr. Keating leans into the cluster
of preppies and whispers audibly, “Carpe diem! Seize the day!”

  At first the students do not know what to make of this strange teacher. But soon they ponder the importance of his words. They come to respect and revere Mr. Keating, who has given them a new vision — or returned them to their original ones.

  All of us are walking around with some kind of birthday card we would like to give — some personal expression of joy, creativity or aliveness that we are hiding under our shirt.

  One character in the movie, Knox Overstreet, has a terminal crush on a gorgeous girl. The only problem is that she is the girlfriend of a famous jock. Knox is infatuated with this lovely creature down to a cellular level but he lacks the confidence to approach her. Then he remembers Mr. Keating’s advice: Seize the day! Knox realizes he cannot just go on dreaming — if he wants her, he is going to have to do something about it. And so he does. Boldly and poetically he declares to her his most sensitive feelings. In the process he gets turned away by her, punched in the nose by her boyfriend and faces embarrassing setbacks. But Knox is unwilling to forsake his dream, so he pursues his heart’s desire. Ultimately she feels the genuineness of his caring and opens her heart to him. Although Knox is not especially good-looking or popular, the girl is won over by the power of his sincere intention. He has made his life extraordinary.

  I had a chance to practice seizing the day myself. I developed a crush on a cute girl I met in a pet store. She was younger than I, she led a very different lifestyle and we did not have a great deal to talk about. But somehow none of this seemed to matter. I enjoyed being with her and I felt a sparkle in her presence. And it seemed to me she enjoyed my company as well.

  When I learned her birthday was coming up, I decided to ask her out. On the threshold of calling her, I sat and looked at the phone for about half an hour. Then I dialed and hung up before it rang. I felt like a high school boy, bouncing between excited anticipation and fear of rejection. A voice kept telling me that she would not like me and that I had a lot of nerve asking her out. But I felt too enthusiastic about being with her to let those fears stop me. Finally I got up the nerve to ask her. She thanked me for asking and told me she already had plans.