Secrets About Life Every Woman Should Know: Ten principles for spiritual and emotional fulfillment

“Health isn’t specific enough,” a third friend advised strongly. “Ask for a long life, not just a healthy one, and give the Lord a specific number of years.”

The devoted woman’s husband, who was not very devoted himself and lacked good understanding of spiritual matters, had been standing there listening to these suggestions. “All your friends are fools,” he declared in an irritated voice. “If this lord said you could ask for any boon you wanted, what about asking him for the boon of even more boons?”

All this time, the woman listened anxiously to everything her friends and her husband had to say, but still, none of their answers satisfied her.

Weeks and then months passed, and all the woman could think about was what to ask Vishnu. This dilemma consumed her awareness so completely that, without realizing it, she stopped worshipping the Lord in her morning ritual as she had done for her whole life. She stopped thinking about how much she loved him. She stopped chanting songs of praise to him. Instead, her mind was totally focused on what she wanted the Lord to give her. Soon, she began to lose all the joy she had possessed in her heart, and even her love for Vishnu began to evaporate.

Finally, a day came when the woman felt the last shred of inner contentment vanish from her soul. In a panic, she fell down on her knees and prayed fervently: “Oh, Lord Vishnu! Help me! You promised that you would grant me a great boon, and asked me what wish I wanted you to fulfill. But I cannot answer your question myself, and I can think about nothing else. Please, I beg you, tell me what to ask for!”

Before the woman could even finish her prayer, Lord Vishnu was manifested before her in all his splendor. “I thought you would never ask,” he said, smiling. “Here is the boon you should request from me: Ask to be happy in life no matter what you get”

The woman bowed her head, realizing the great wisdom in Lord Vishnu’s teaching. And then she did as he said: she asked for and received that gift. And she lived out each and every day of her life on this earth with great serenity and joy, for no matter what she ever got or didn’t get, she was always happy.

This is my highest wish for you—that like the woman in our story, you remember the source of happiness is always already inside you, offering you all you need to experience true joy in this and every moment.

SECRET NUMBER TWO The Purpose of Life Is for You to Grow into the Best Human Being You Can Be (#ulink_95ce9472-1108-5655-8c29-7ce89f52d3b9)

My favorite place to go is where I’ve never been before.

ANONYMOUS

When I was nine years old, I fell in love with a doll I saw advertised on television. The TV said the doll cried real tears and even wet her diapers—it was appropriately named a Betsy-Wetsy Doll—and I was determined to have it. After much hinting on my part, my mother agreed to buy the doll for me, and so one Saturday morning we set off for the neighborhood toy store. I shook with excitement as I entered the shop and saw that it was overflowing with trains, Tinkertoys, teddy bears, every imaginable object of a child’s fantasy. I was sure I had arrived in heaven!

It didn’t take long for me to spot Betsy-Wetsy waiting for me on the shelf. I scooped her lovingly into my arms, promising to change her diapers as often as needed. As I walked down the aisle toward the cash register, a display of brightly colored boxes suddenly caught my eye. I stopped and gazed in wonder at the title on one of the boxes: ENCHANTED CASTLE—A PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR DREAMS CAN COME TRUE! it read in glowing gold and purple letters. Beneath the headline was a picture of the most magical castle I had ever seen. The castle looked like it was made of silver; it seemed to rise several stories from the ground, and was covered with towers and turrets and moats. There were tiny windows everywhere, and my imagination went wild: I pictured a starry-eyed princess who lived in luxury peering out from those windows, longing for a glimpse of her Prince Charming, who, naturally, was racing toward the castle on horseback to carry her off to a land where they would live happily ever after. I stood there transfixed, sure that destiny had brought me into the toy store so that I, too, could make all of my dreams come true. I had to have that castle.

My poor mother didn’t have a chance. I begged, I pleaded, I used every persuasive power that a seven year old has (which, in my case, was a considerable amount), and finally, she gave in. I walked out of the store with Betsy-Wetsy under one arm, and my Enchanted Castle under the other.

The car ride home was a blur. All I remember is racing up to my bedroom with my treasures, carefully taking them out of the paper bag, and placing them on my bed. I held Betsy in my arms for a minute before laying her down off to the side. After all, Betsy was just a doll, but in that box was an Enchanted Castle, and even at seven, I knew to choose magic over real life any day. Besides, I knew Betsy would understand. I carefully unwrapped the plastic covering from the large box, and opened the cardboard flaps. Slowly, with trembling hands, I reached into the depths of the box to lift my castle out of the darkness.

The Pieces of My Dreams

There was nothing there! I couldn’t feel a thing in the box. No towers jutting up, no flags flying on the roof. In fact, there was no roof at all! My heart pounded as my little hands reached deeper, and deeper, until finally, at the very bottom of the box, I could feel a pile of tiny objects. I spilled out the contents of the box and there before me, littering the top of my lace bedspread, lay the two hundred and seventy-seven pieces of the Enchanted Castle, ready for assembly, along with several tubes of model glue, paint, brushes, and a twenty-four-page instruction booklet.

I sank to the floor and stared in shock at the confusing mess on my bed. I felt completely crushed. I had expected a beautiful, magical castle, and instead I’d gotten a pile of plastic parts. Now my dreams would never come true. I began to sob the deep, hopeless sobs of someone who has decided the world is a cruel and unfair place.

Just then, my mother knocked on my bedroom door, and when she heard me crying, she rushed in and took me in her arms. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked with a concerned look on her face. “Aren’t you happy with your presents?”

“It’s, it’s the cc … cc … castle,” I stammered. “It’s not right.”

“What’s not right about it?” my mother questioned. “Here, let me take a look.” She got up and stood over the bed. “Let’s see, they included glue, five colors of paint, good … brushes, and here’s the instructions. Honey, everything looks O.K. to me.”

I listened to her in bewilderment. How could she say the castle looked O.K.? “But Mommy,” I sniffed, “the castle is all in little pieces. It’s not pretty and fixed like the picture on the box.”

My mother pulled me toward her and took my hands in hers. “Barbara,” she said softly, “There’s nothing wrong with the castle. It is supposed to come in pieces like that—that’s the whole idea. It’s a model and you are supposed to put it together. See, honey, here’s the instructions, they show you how to stick the pieces that fit onto one another. And then you put a little glue on them so they will stay that way, and when it is all glued together, you paint it with these paints, and you’re all finished, and the castle will look just like the one on the cover.”

“But I thought it was supposed to come already made!” I shook my head in disbelief. “You mean I have to put the whole castle together myself? That ruins the whole thing—it will never be as good as the one in the picture. And besides, because I’ll know I put it together, it won’t be magical at all!” And then I burst into more tears.

Putting the Castle Together

I don’t remember how long I ignored my castle. I know that I put it back in the box that night and left it on a shelf in my closet. I was furious that it hadn’t come already made, that I was expected to do something to make it work. I decided that Betsy-Wetsy was the one for me after all, and spent my time pouring water into Betsy’s mouth and waiting for it to come out the other end so I could change her diapers. I soon grew tired of cleaning her up—after all, how many times can you change a rubber baby before the thrill is gone? So one afternoon, I found myself taking the Enchanted Castle out of the closet and placing it on the bed. I opened the instruction booklet and began to read.

It took me several weeks to build my castle. At first, I was very frightened. “What if I make a mistake?” I thought to myself, “and glue the wrong pieces together? What if I can’t figure out what goes where? What will I do if I can’t understand the directions?” It wasn’t long before I found out the answers: I did make mistakes, and had to unglue dozens of little plastic pieces and reglue them in the right place. I did get confused at certain points, and had to ask my mother to help me out. But as the days passed, and I could see the beginnings of a castle forming before my eyes, my fear turned into excitement, the frustration turned into challenge. I would race home from school so I could work on the castle. I would secretly stay up way past my bedtime gluing and assembling, and when it was almost finished, painting.

And then one day, it was done. I sat on my bed and stared at my Enchanted Castle in its place of honor by the window. I knew that it didn’t look exactly like the castle in the picture—the paint was smeared in a few places, the glue hadn’t always dried evenly. But it looked beautiful, and it looked magical. And even more miraculously, I felt magical: I was completely happy and fulfilled, not just because I had an Enchanted Castle to play with, but because I had helped to create that castle. And the castle meant much more to me this way than if it had come ready made, perfect, leaving nothing for me to do but admire it. For the real magic of the castle was that even though it looked like I was putting it together, it was putting me together.

It has been almost thirty years since I made that trip to the toy store. In the decades that have passed, I’ve faced many challenges, trials, and crises, both personally and professionally. There were times when my life looked nothing like the picture I’d always had of how things would turn out for me, but instead, resembled a confused pile of little pieces similar to that castle spread on top on my bed. And at these moments, I often felt angry, frustrated, and frightened, just like I had when I was seven: “Why do things have to be this way?” I’d cry. “Why does life have to be so hard?”

But each time I’d experience these feelings, I’d remember my castle. For just as the ad on the box had promised, my Enchanted Castle did help me learn how to make my dreams come true, my highest dreams: It taught me that life was about putting myself together, and not coming already “finished.” It taught me that the purpose of my life wasn’t to make everything look perfect on the outside, but to grow on the inside as the events of my destiny worked to teach me patience, courage, and self-acceptance.

What Is the Purpose of Your Life?

I share this story with you because it illustrates one of the most important points of this book—that when we don’t understand how something is supposed to work, if we aren’t clear about its purpose, we can incorrectly conclude that there is a problem where there isn’t one at all. When I was nine, I thought the purpose of getting that castle was to take it out of the box ready made and enjoy it. I didn’t understand that its real purpose was to teach me certain skills and lessons, and ultimately, to give me a sense of self-confidence I never would have attained if I hadn’t been forced to put those pieces together. This same principle applies to every part of our lives—if we don’t understand the purpose of what we’re going through, then we can misjudge the experience and even the outcome.

So what is the purpose of your life? Have you ever asked yourself that challenging question? What is the purpose of each year? Of each day? And how do you know whether or not you have fulfilled that purpose when you go to sleep each night, or on New Year’s Eve each year as you evaluate the twelve months past, or at the end of your life as you look back over how you have lived? How do you know whether or not your life has been successful?

Each of us has our own answers. Maybe you feel one of the purposes of your life is to get married and raise a family, or to create a comfortable lifestyle and a beautiful home, or to have a stimulating and rewarding career, or perhaps something less personal and more global, such as to contribute something valuable and lasting to society. And there are subpurposes and goals, as well—for instance, that you want to travel, or to make sure all of your children graduate from college, or to build up your business so you can leave a large inheritance to your grandchildren.

These purposes become what I call your “shoulds”:

I should be happily married by a certain age.

I should have children and they should turn out a certain way.

I should have the home I’ve always dreamed of.

I should have a rewarding career.

I should do something with my artistic talents.

I should be making a certain amount of money.

I should be helping others.

I should weigh a certain amount, and no more.

I should be more successful than my parents were.

I should have a certain amount of money saved up for my retirement.

I should have done certain things and gone to certain places before I die.

Now, imagine that a friend you haven’t spoken to for a while calls you up one day and asks, “How have you been doing?” What determines your answer? How do you decide how you have been doing? You probably do the same thing that I and everyone else does—you unconsciously check your list of “shoulds” and see how many of them you are able to check off as “done,” and how many are still incomplete. Or to use the analogy from my introduction, you check your plates to see which ones are spinning and which have fallen. Your “shoulds” become the basis upon which you evaluate how successfully you have been living.

Let’s say that in the past month, you went through a painful breakup with a man you’d been in love with, your company downsized and informed you that you should start looking for a new job, you were overdrawn on two credit cards, and you gained five pounds. How would you most likely respond when your friend asks, “How are you doing?” You know the answer: “I’m not doing well at all. In fact, I’m having a terrible month!” Perhaps you’re feeling like a failure; perhaps your self-esteem has plummeted. Perhaps your faith in life itself has been shaken, because nothing is turning out the way you think it should.

If you believe that the purpose of your life that month is to be in a great relationship, or have a stable job, or pay off your credit cards, or maintain the perfect weight, you will, indeed, feel like a failure. You will berate yourself and conclude that you are having a “bad” month, that somehow, you are blowing it. You will make yourself suffer.

This is how you sabotage your sense of self-esteem. You evaluate yourself based on a set of misunderstandings about what the purpose of your life really is. But the truth is, nothing that most of us have on our “should” list is the purpose of life.