Gnowing With the Heart: A Simple Exercise for Listening to the Heart
We don’t tune into the heart.
We’ve forgotten how to listen to the heart.
We’ve forgotten how to listen with the heart.
Maybe that’s how we’ve found ourselves so divided.
Sometimes I wonder if the story of the Tower of Babel was not actually about languages but about matters of the spirit. As if what split was our sense of values and our abilities to hear each other, and now we cannot recover.
This grows worse the more we emphasize intellectual strength over every other kind of knowing. The Age of Enlightenment did so much for humanity, but everything has its shadow, and that time is no exception. In our rush to mentally grasp the world, we have desouled it. Our pervasive emphasis on the mind and its intricacy, its capacities, as well as its fragmentation and mirages is still killing us. If you can’t verify it with your head, it didn’t happen, right? If there’s no “proof,” and that proof is only what can be turned over and understood by the mind, then it isn’t real.
This just isn’t true for the heart, which operates on a completely different level. The heart knows differently. The heart knows differently. There’s a difference between “know” and “gnosis.” The first is of the mind, the second of the mystical, the soul-level knowing (or gnowing?). The heart gnows.
Perhaps we don’t want to listen to the heart because it doesn’t speak directly. It often takes time to relay its message, and it doesn’t use words. Florence + the Machine said it best in the song All This and Heaven Too:
And the heart is hard to translate
It has a language of its own
It talks in tongues and quiet sighs
In prayers and proclamations, in the grand deeds
Of great men and the smallest of gestures
In short shallow gaspsBut with all my education
I can't seem to command it
And the words are all escaping
And coming back all damaged
And I would put them back in poetry
If I only knew how, I can't seem to understand it
I can’t seem to understand it. We can’t seem to understand it.
Our elders are not without understanding though. The indigenous among us have varying beliefs about the heart, but there is a general agreement that true “knowing” goes well beyond what the mind is capable of. I like how Aleut elder Ilarion (Larry) Merculieff describes his experience of knowing:
[As a child] I noticed how thousands of birds darted diagonally, up and down, left to right and right to left, flying at different speeds and in different directions simultaneously without ever even clipping another’s wing. In my six-year-old mind, I decided that the only difference between those birds and myself was that they drew upon a vast field of awareness rather than an intellectual thought process (although I did not use such words at the time). I wanted to be like a bird, so, after months of effort, I developed the capacity to maintain this state of “awareness without thinking” for several hours at a time. That was when the magic happened: I could sense many things I’d never experienced before, and my world expanded enormously.
From then on, I understood how Unangan people received their spiritual instructions for living, principles that had helped them sustain their communities for thousands of years: reciprocity with all living things, humility, respect for all life, honoring Elder wisdom, giving without expectation of a return to self, thinking of others first, and many more.
Such spiritual principles for living did not come from logic or thought but from a much deeper source of wisdom, which our Unangan culture referred to as the “heart.” When Unangan Elders speak of the “heart,” they do not mean mere feelings, even positive and compassionate ones. “Heart” refers to a deeper portal of profound interconnectedness and awareness that exists between humans and all living things. Centering oneself there results in humble, wise, connected ways of being and acting in the world.
How to Begin Listening to the Heart
I’m a newbie here and just as intellectually-overweighted as most of us Westerners, so don’t mistake me: I have a history of ignoring my heart, too. I have learned a few insights, though, and I’d like to share them.
First, the heart needs time. Time to unfold, time to unthaw.
Imagine you talk to a friend for the first time in years and … it takes some time to circle around the surface-level shit before you get anywhere. It may take several points of contact before they’ll open up to you.
It’s the same with a heart. You can’t just check in for the first time in decades and expect happy feelings, depth, and immediate understanding. You might not get that. You won’t get that.
One of my favorite lines from Shantaram, by David Roberts, gives us a glimpse into what we might find when we tune into the heart. “Tears begin in the heart, but some of us deny the heart so often, and for so long, that when it speaks we hear not one but a hundred sorrows in the heartbreak.”
You might not like what you find when you finally give your heart time. That’s okay. Don’t make it mean anything. Don’t assign stories to it (that’s a function of the mind). Just let whatever comes to the surface be there, and when it’s time to be done, leave it where it is. There’s no need to pick at it.
The trick is to come back to it again. And again. Don’t let those first few confusing sessions put you off. Pretty soon your heart will start to speak in ways that are specific to you and you alone.
I’ll also note that the first handful of times I checked in with my heart, I noticed it was my mind drawing its focus to the heart. As if my brain was leaning out of my forehead and staring at the heart space, waiting for it to do something, say something… anything. It’s like staring at someone you haven’t spoken to for a long time and waiting for them to talk. Awkward. Not super helpful.
There’s a drawing down and away from the mind that has to take place—internally. It’s a sense of “being with” the heart, using your whole body. The mind has a role—it has to shut up long enough to let the heart begin to speak, and then it has to stay quiet and not make everything a story, or interpret things to death. It’s tricky. It’s not the same as meditation, but it does require a momentary letting go of thought so that the heart has space.
When I first started, my brain wanted to “make sense” of it all. That just made everything harder. After a while I realized there was no “making sense” of it—that’s not what we’re doing here. I was yet again trying to use an intellectual understanding with something that requires a completely different approach. The split of Babbel feels real within the body just as much as it is real within the mass of humans around the world.
After some practice, you’ll start to notice when the heart is speaking to you outside of your sessions. It’ll feel like the shy kid at the loud and noisy birthday party who doesn’t say anything but quietly tugs your sleeve and tries to pull you into a corner so they can whisper in your ear. You won’t have to wait so long to gain a sense of what it needs.
To summarize:
Give the heart time: Don’t rush the process. Like reconnecting with an old friend, the heart needs patience and repeated effort to open up.
Release expectations: Don’t expect immediate clarity or joy. Be ready to face discomfort or old sorrows, and simply let them exist without assigning meaning.
Draw awareness into the heart: Move your focus from your mind to your body, letting go of thoughts. Feel the presence of your heart without trying to force it to respond.
Quiet the mind: The mind plays a role but must stay quiet and observant without creating stories or seeking control.
Embrace ambiguity: The heart doesn’t communicate in clear words. Be okay with not fully understanding and trust the process.
Return consistently: Regular practice of “checking in” with your heart allows it to begin speaking in a language unique to you.
In a world that prioritizes intellect and proof above all else, reconnecting with the heart is an act of rebellion and renewal. It’s a way to recover what we’ve lost: our ability to listen deeply beyond words and to bridge the divides between us and within us. Working with the heart is not quick or easy, but it is profoundly transformative.
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