My exploding heart.
Sometimes something happens that makes my heart grow bigger. Often this thing happens in “real life.”
And sometimes it happens between the pages of a book.
I went on vacation last week — my kind of vacation, which means abundant, expansive, delicious time to read. I always stock up on books before I go, loading my Kindle with whatever choices happen to be available from my super-long book request list at the public library.
One of the books in last week’s digital pile was Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. It’s a collection of “Dear Sugar” advice columns formerly published in a literary blog. (Sugar is Cheryl.)
Wow. This is not your average advice column.
The letters asking for advice are extraordinary: raw, funny, heartbreaking, courageous, fragile — so so so human.
And her responses took my breath away.
Sugar writes with enormous generosity of spirit, compassion, total lack of judgment, abundant love — and (this is important) often extremely tough love. Sugar doesn’t sugar-coat! Sometimes she packs a major punch. And my overwhelming experience reading this collection was that I was in the presence of a spectacularly huge heart.
Reading these letters and her replies made my heart grow. It expanded my capacity for empathy and compassion.
So what was going on here? What magic made those letter writers willing to reveal their humanity so fully? What allowed Sugar/Cheryl to be able to speak with such enormous, loving compassion, combined with unusual directness? Sure, the anonymous format plays a part, but that can’t be all.
I think those letter writers trusted that they would receive something rare and precious from her: to be seen, without judgment.
It’s a core human desire, isn’t it? For another human to bear loving witness to the truth of who we are, as much as we can allow — all our failures, hopes, insecurities, dreams, contradictions, desires. To be seen with clear eyes, a loving heart, without judgment. This is what Sugar does so powerfully.
Nearly every one of my clients has at some point said (sometimes whispered), “you are the only person on the planet who knows this.” Sometimes they are sharing a sacred experience they want to protect from the outside world. Sometimes they carry so much self-judgment around a thought or experience that they’ve been terrified to bring it into the light. Sometimes it's a dream so big they’re overwhelmed by what might unfold if they dare voice it out loud. Sometimes they’re laboring under the mistaken idea that whatever the thing is, nobody else could possibly understand.
I’ve had all of these thoughts! I bet you have, too.
It’s scary to reveal our innermost selves. How could it not be? We live in a world bursting with judgment. Many of us are in nearly constant judgment of others — and of ourselves.
(This is a hard way to move through the world.)
And yet there is so much power, healing, and wisdom available when we can simply and lovingly bear witness, and be witnessed. Sugar’s absolute refusal to judge these letter writers is why her strongest words, her toughest love, lands so beautifully.
So how do we expand our own capacity to do this?
Reading can play a part. Many books have caused my heart to grow — from Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead to Roxanne Gay’s Hunger: A Memoir of (my) Body. Books have invited me into lives and experiences far from my own, and I can’t unsee what those books showed me. Some woke me up to my own narrow-mindedness and judgment. Many inspired me to think bigger, be more imaginative. Others taught me that I’m not so alone as I imagined.
The world looks different after reading them. Judging others (and myself) isn’t quite so easy after reading them.
What about you? Have books made your heart grow bigger?
PS — If you’re curious, here’s what I read on vacation: The List by Yomi Adegoki, Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed, Tom Lake by Ann Patchett, The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah, Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart, The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan, and The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai (still in progress.)