Chicken Soup for the Soul 20th Anniversary Edition

by Jack Canfield

  I felt shot down. The same voice that told me not to call advised me to give up before I was further embarrassed. But I was intent on seeing what this attraction was about. There was more inside me that wanted to come to life. I had feelings for this woman, and I had to express them.

  I went to the mall and got her a pretty birthday card on which I wrote a poetic note. I walked around the corner to the pet shop where I knew she was working. As I approached the door, that same disturbing voice cautioned me, “What if she doesn’t like you? What if she rejects you?” Feeling vulnerable, I stuffed the card under my shirt. I decided that if she showed me signs of affection, I would give it to her; if she was cool to me, I would leave the card hidden. This way I would not be at risk and would avoid rejection or embarrassment.

  We talked for a while and I did not get any signs one way or the other from her. Feeling ill at ease, I began to make my exit.

  As I approached the door, however, another voice spoke to me. It came in a whisper, not unlike that of Mr. Keating. It prompted me, “Remember Knox Overstreet. Carpe diem!” Here I was confronted with my aspiration to fully express my heart and my resistance to face the insecurity of emotional nakedness. How can I go around telling other people to live their vision, I asked myself, when I am not living my own? Besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Any woman would be delighted to receive a poetic birthday card. I decided to seize the day. As I made that choice I felt a surge of courage course through my veins. There was indeed power in intention.

  I felt more satisfied and at peace with myself than I had in a long time... I needed to learn to open my heart and give love without requiring anything in return.

  I took the card out from under my shirt, turned around, walked up to the counter and gave it to her. As I handed it to her I felt an incredible aliveness and excitement — plus fear. (Fritz Perls said that fear is “excitement without breath.”) But I did it.

  And do you know what? She was not particularly impressed. She said “Thanks” and put the card aside without even opening it. My heart sank. I felt disappointed and rejected. Getting no response seemed even worse than a direct brush-off.

  I offered a polite goodbye and walked out of the store. Then something amazing happened. I began to feel exhilarated. A huge rush of internal satisfaction welled up within me and surged through my whole being. I had expressed my heart and that felt fantastic! I had stretched beyond fear and gone out on the dance floor. Yes, I had been a little clumsy, but I did it. (Emmet Fox said, “Do it trembling if you must, but do it!”) I had put my heart on the line without demanding a guarantee of the results. I did not give in order to get something back. I opened my feelings to her without an attachment to a particular response.

  The dynamics that are required to make any relationship work: Just keep putting your love out there.

  My exhilaration deepened to a warm bliss. I felt more satisfied and at peace with myself than I had in a long time. I realized the purpose of the whole experience: I needed to learn to open my heart and give love without requiring anything in return. This experience was not about creating a relationship with this woman. It was about deepening my relationship with myself. And I did it. Mr. Keating would have been proud. But most of all, I was proud.

  I have not seen the girl much since then, but that experience changed my life. Through that simple interaction I clearly saw the dynamics that are required to make any relationship and perhaps the whole world work: Just keep putting your love out there.

  We believe that we are hurt when we don’t receive love. But that is not what hurts us. Our pain comes when we do not give love. We were born to love. You might say that we are divinely created love machines. We function most powerfully when we are giving love.

  The world has led us to believe that our wellbeing is dependent on other people loving us. But this is the kind of upside-down thinking that has caused so many of our problems. The truth is that our wellbeing is dependent on our giving love. It is not about what comes back; it is about what goes out!

  ~Alan Cohen

  I Know You, You’re Just Like Me!

  We look forward to the time when the Power of Love will replace the

  Love of Power. Then will our world know the blessings of peace.

  ~William Ewart Gladstone

  One of our closest friends is Stan Dale. Stan teaches a seminar on love and relationships called “Sex, Love and Intimacy.” Several years ago, in an effort to learn what the people in the Soviet Union were really like, he took 29 people to the Soviet Union for two weeks. When he wrote about his experiences in his newsletter, we were deeply touched by the following anecdote:

  While walking through a park in the industrial city of Kharkov, I spotted an old Russian veteran of World War II. They are easily identified by the medals and ribbons they still proudly display on their shirts and jackets. This is not an act of egotism. It is their country’s way of honoring those who helped save Russia, even though 20 million Russians were killed by the Nazis. I went up to this old man sitting with his wife and said, “Druzhba i mir” (friendship and peace). The man looking at me as if in disbelief, took the button we had made for the trip and said “Friendship” in Russian and showed a map of the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. being held by loving hands, and said, “Americanski?” I replied, “Da, Americanski. Druzhba i mir.” He clasped both my hands as if we were long lost brothers and repeated again, “Americanski!” This time there was recognition and love in his statement.

  For the next few minutes he and his wife spoke in Russian as if I understood every word, and I spoke English as if I knew he would understand. You know what? Neither of us understood a word, but we surely understood each other. We hugged, and laughed and cried, all the while saying, “Druzhba i mir, Americanski.” “I love you, I am proud to be in your country, we do not want war. I love you!”

  After about five minutes we said goodbye, and the seven of us in our little group walked on. About 15 minutes later, some considerable distance on, this same old veteran caught up with us. He came up to me, took off his Order of Lenin medal (probably his most prized possession) and pinned it to my jacket. He then kissed me on the lips and gave me one of the warmest, most loving hugs I have ever received. Then we both cried, looked into each other’s eyes for the longest time, and said, “Dossvedanya” (goodbye).

  The above story is symbolic of our entire “Citizen Diplomacy” trip to the Soviet Union. Every day we met and touched hundreds of people in every possible and impossible setting. Neither the Russians nor we will ever be the same. There are now hundreds of schoolchildren from the three schools we visited who will not be quite so ready to think of Americans as people who want to “nuke” them. We danced, sang and played with children of every age, and then we hugged, kissed and shared presents. They gave us flowers, cakes, buttons, paintings, dolls, but most importantly, their hearts and open minds.

  More than once we were invited to be members of wedding parties, and no biological family member could have been more warmly accepted, greeted and feted than we were. We hugged, kissed, danced and drank champagne, schnapps and vodka with the bride and groom, as well as Momma and Poppa and the rest of the family.

  In Kursk, we were hosted by seven Russian families who volunteered to take us in for a wonderful evening of food, drink and conversation. Four hours later, none of us wanted to part. Our group now has a complete new family in Russia.

  The following night “our family” was feted by us at our hotel. The band played until almost midnight, and guess what? Once again we ate, drank, talked, danced and cried when it came time to say goodbye. We danced every dance as if we were passionate lovers, which is exactly what we were.

  I could go on forever about our experiences, and yet there would be no way to convey to you exactly how we felt. How would you feel when you arrived at your hotel in Moscow, if there were a telephone message waiting for you, written in Russian, from Mikhail Gorbachev’s office saying he regretted he could not
meet with you that weekend because he would be out of town, but instead he had arranged for your entire group to meet for two hours in a roundtable discussion with about a half-dozen members of the Central Committee? We had an extremely frank discussion about everything, including sex.

  How would you feel if more than a dozen old ladies, wearing babushkas, came down from the steps of their apartment buildings and hugged and kissed you? How would you feel when your guides, Tanya and Natasha, told you and the whole group that they had never seen anyone like you? And when we left, all 30 of us cried because we had fallen in love with these fabulous women, and they with us. Yes, how would you feel? Probably just like us.

  Each of us had our own experience, of course, but the collective experience bears out one thing for certain: The only way we are ever going to ensure peace on this planet is to adopt the entire world as “our family.” We are going to have to hug them, and kiss them. And dance and play with them. And we are going to have to sit and talk and walk and cry with them. Because when we do, we’ll be able to see that, indeed, everyone is beautiful, and we all complement each other so beautifully, and we would all be poorer without each other. Then the saying, “I know you, you’re just like me!” will take on a mega-meaning of, “This is ‘my family,’ and I will stand by them no matter what!”

  ~Stan Dale

  The Gentlest Need

  I pet her and she pays me back in purrs.

  ~Terri Guillemets

  At least once a day our old black cat comes to one of us in a way that we’ve all come to see as a special request. It does not mean he wants to be fed or to be let out or anything of that sort. His need is for something very different.

  If you have a lap handy, he’ll jump into it; if you don’t, he’s likely to stand there looking wistful until you make him one. Once in it, he begins to vibrate almost before you stroke his back, scratch his chin and tell him over and over what a good kitty he is. Then his motor really revs up; he squirms to get comfortable; he “makes big hands.” Every once in a while one of his purrs gets out of control and turns into a snort. He looks at you with wide-open eyes of adoration, and he gives you the cat’s long slow blink of ultimate trust.

  After a while, little by little, he quiets down. If he senses that it’s all right, he may stay in your lap for a cozy nap. But he is just as likely to hop down and stroll away about his business. Either way, he’s all right.

  Our daughter puts it simply: “Blackie needs to be purred.”

  In our household he isn’t the only one who has that need: I share it and so does my wife. We know the need isn’t exclusive to any one age group. Still, because I am a schoolman as well as a parent, I associate it especially with youngsters, with their quick, impulsive need for a hug, a warm lap, a hand held out, a coverlet tucked in, not because anything’s wrong, not because anything needs doing, just because that’s the way they are.

  There are a lot of things I’d like to do for all children. If I could do just one, it would be this: to guarantee every child, everywhere, at least one good purring every day.

  Kids, like cats, need time to purr.

  ~Fred T. Wilhelms

  Bopsy

  I can think of no more stirring symbol of man’s humanity to man than a fire engine.

  ~Kurt Vonnegut

  The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son’s dreams to come true.

  She took her son’s hand and asked, “Bopsy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish about what you would do with your life?”

  “Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up.” Mom smiled back and said, “Let’s see if we can make your wish come true.” Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son’s final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

  Fireman Bob said, “Look, we can do better than that. If you’ll have your son ready at seven o’clock Wednesday morning, we’ll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And, if you’ll give us his sizes, we’ll get a real fire uniform made for him, with a real fire hat — not a toy one — with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They’re all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast.”

  Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Bopsy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Bopsy got to sit up on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven.

  There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Bopsy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedics’ van and even the fire chief ’s car. He was also videotaped for the local news program.

  Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Bopsy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

  One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the Hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Bopsy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Bopsy as he made his transition. The chief replied, “We can do better than that. We’ll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It’s just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? Thanks.”

  About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, extended its ladder up to Bopsy’s third floor open window and 14 firemen and two firewomen climbed up the ladder into Bopsy’s room. With his mother’s permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him.

  With his dying breath, Bopsy looked up at the fire chief and said, “Chief, am I really a fireman now?”

  “Bopsy, you are,” the chief said.

  With those words, Bopsy smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.

  ~Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

  Ziggy© Ziggy and Friends. Distributed by Universal Press Syndicate. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

  Puppies for Sale

  Judgments prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances.

  ~Wayne Dyer

  A storeowner was tacking a sign above his door that read “Puppies For Sale.” Signs like that have a way of attracting small children, and sure enough, a little boy appeared under the storeowner’s sign. “How much are you going to sell the puppies for?” he asked.

  The storeowner replied, “Anywhere from $30 to $50.”

  The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. “I have $2.37,” he said. “Can I please look at them?”

  The storeowner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur. One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, “What’s wrong with that little dog?”

  The storeowner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little puppy and had discovered it didn’t have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame. The little boy became excited. “That is the little puppy that I want to buy.”

  The storeowner said, “No, you do
n’t want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I’ll just give him to you.”

  The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the storeowner’s eyes, pointing his finger, and said, “I don’t want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I’ll pay full price. In fact, I’ll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have paid for him.”

  The storeowner countered, “You really don’t want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies.”

  To this, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the storeowner and softly replied, “Well, I don’t run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!”

  ~Dan Clark

  Learning to Love Yourself

  Oliver Wendell Holmes once attended a meeting in which he was the shortest man present.

  “Dr. Holmes,” quipped a friend, “I should think you’d feel rather small among us big fellows.”

  “I do,” retorted Holmes. “I feel like a dime among a lot of pennies.”

  My Inner Physician

  We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

  ~Jane Austen

  My wake-up call came on February 14, 2003. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you have canSer” — spelled wrong to take my power back. At the time I was a thirty-one-year-old actress and photographer living in New York City, trying to get my life together and make something of myself. Sometimes I thrived; other times I could barely put the fast food on the table.