By Elizabeth Lesser

For years I have used the words of poets to guide my life. And by poets, I don’t only mean Emily Dickenson or Walt Whitman. I lump into the job description of “poet” all sorts of thinkers and mystics: Jesus, Dr. King, Eleanor Roosevelt, Rachel Carson... Anyone who can still my restless and worried mind with the magic of a few powerful, purposeful words is crowned a poet in my gamebook.

Here’s what I do: I memorize one line from a piece of writing and I use it to begin and end my morning meditation. Sometimes that meditation lasts only as long as the line itself! Sometimes it happens in the car as I rush to work. I have found that a line of poetic writing is like a vitamin pill. If I can’t eat breakfast, at least I have the potent nutrients packed in a pill. And if I can’t spend a chunk of time wrapped in the healing cloak of silence and contemplation, at least I get the jolt of insight from my chosen line of poetry.

This week I have been using a line from Rumi—the Sufi poet from 12th century Persia. Rumi says:

"Let yourself be silently drawn

by the stronger pull of what you really love." *

I am drawn to this line when I in the process of making a decision. I think it’s particularly hard for women to make big decisions because our lives impact so many other lives—it’s as if there’s a jury in the room when we are trying to determine our next steps. Depending on your stage of life, that jury may include your children, your mate, your colleagues, your parents, or all of the above plus a myriad of other people who depend on you. When Rumi says “let yourself be silently drawn,” he is telling us to usher the jury out of the room for a while—to drop down beneath the choppy waters of the mind, into the deep stillness of the ocean.  Ahhhh. Sounds good, right?

That oceanic silence is within you—always.  It is waiting for you. And in its healing chambers, if you listen closely, you may begin to hear the voice of your authentic self. Rumi calls that voice “the stronger pull of what you really love.” Sometimes we’re afraid to get still enough to hear that voice. What if it should lead us in an unsettling, even dangerous direction? What if it tells you that what you really love is quite different from the life you are leading now? What if it messes with your head and you end up making a big, impetuous mistake?

Not to worry, because that’s not the way the still small voice works.