I'm Listening

Every other Wednesday morning I pick up the phone and call a spiritual mentor of mine. Last November I decided to commit to that call for one year. My life had taken a great turn and I wanted some guidance as I navigated a new relationship, started writing my book in earnest, said goodbye to old ways of thinking about work and money, and let more love into my life. Who better than Rosa to keep me on track and help me take an honest look at myself.

I've known Rosa since the summer of 1993. She was the first person I went to when my life was spiraling out of control. She literally took me in her arms and held me as I screamed and cried and laughed away years of pain. I often tell people that she saved my life. Fifteen years later I still find myself weeping tears of gratitude when she says, "I'm listening, Joe." How wonderful it is to be heard! This past Wednesday I told Rosa that the words "I'm listening" are often all I need for my healing.

Last week I started reading the book Narative Medicine - The Use of History and Story in the Healing Process by Lewis Mehl-Madrona, M.D. The book "examines the foundations of the indigenous use of story as a healing modality" and "points the way to a new model of medicine - a health care system that draws its effectiveness from listening to the healing wisdom of the past and also to the present-day voices of its patients." How great is that?

Murray Nossel facilitates storytelling courses in Manhattan. His company, Narativ, is founded on the premise that we all have a story to tell and that our story is shaped by the way the audience is listening. Having participated in Murray's classes, I can tell you that he's quite right.

Which brings me back to Rosa. Part of what I'm doing twice a month on the phone with her is telling my old stories, the ones that I've told over and over again, the ones that keep me stuck in the past, whining about the shoulda-coulda -woulda's. "Where does that story come from?", she often asks. When I get to the root of it, the old story loses it's power. "Tell yourself a new story, Joe. I'm listening"