A friend of mine stutters. He is also a bit clumsy, but everybody loves Paul. The other day Paul had to give a speech, the first – and maybe the last – he ever gave. His boss, for whom he had worked for over twenty years, was going to leave the company and Paul was very sad to see him go.

At the reception in his boss’ honour, his successor gave a well prepared and witty speech. People smiled politely at the – not so spontaneous – jokes and intellectual wisecracks. After that it was Paul’s turn. Nervously he took the stage and tried to remember what he wanted to say. He fumbled for his notes, but couldn’t read them and decided to just try to express how much he loved his boss, that he had been like a father to him and how much he would miss him.

Of course all the words came out awkwardly and wrong, but something in the way Paul had spoken went straight to the heart of those listening. Some were crying, others swallowed hard, or were sending Paul their love and encouragement for him to get to the end of his speech gracefully. Although there was nothing witty, ingenious or interesting about Paul’s speech, it was probably the best speech they had ever heard – and certainly the one they were going to remember for a long time.

Why did Paul’s speech have so much impact? Scientists at the HeartMath Institute (www.heartmath.org) know the answer: Paul spoke from the heart. They have discovered that the electromagnetic frequencies that our hearts give off are 5,000 times more powerful than the frequencies that come from the head, or the brain. When we communicate from the heart there is an intensity that can never be matched by cleverly constructed words that spring from our thinking. Anything that comes from the heart has the capacity to touch us in a very deep and profound way. Words that don’t come from the heart – words that are not truly felt – miss their goal, even if they are about matters of the heart, like the need for compassion or unconditional love.

Our (Western) culture puts very little value on matters of the heart and lots of value on mind stuff. We are not encouraged to feel – quite the opposite, in fact – and forget how to listen to what really matters. We try to work out how life works, who we are and how we should relate to others by constantly thinking about it. We analyze, strategize, plan and try to understand our fate, but forget that the mind is much too small to contain “things” like love, beauty, passion or grace.

The problem with our culture is that it lets us get away with being out of touch with our hearts. It lets us get away with being cool and calculated, even if it is at the expense of others. Our culture allows people to be highly successful, especially if they don’t listen to – and live from – their hearts. Job applications hardly ever ask for loving, caring bookkeepers or lawyers. They usually want sharp, smart and knowledgeable ones.

Another friend of mine, Bart, used to play in two different rock bands. One of them (The Radios) was just for fun and consisted of a bunch of old friends who – much to their own surprise – became a big hit in Belgium. The other band was made up of the best musicians Belgium had to offer.

One day Bart had two gigs. The first one was with The Radios at an afternoon festival. The other one was in the evening with the band consisting of pros. After the first gig Bart’s Radio friends decided to accompany him to the next concert. Whilst the Pro band was playing, The Radios were fooling around backstage, teasing Bart and trying to make him lose his concentration (and wipe the serious frown off his face).

It didn’t take long for the audience to recognize The Radios, and in no time at all the whole audience was shouting “We want the Radios, we want the Radios”. Bart’s professional band had no other choice than to hand their instruments over to The Radios who were by now too drunk to do a decent concert, but managed just the same, because they never did a decent concert anyway.

After another crazy and passionate show in which the crowd went wild, the two bands sat together in the dressing room. All of a sudden the keyboard player of the Pro band started to cry. After an uncomfortable silence, Bart asks him what’s wrong: “Did we ruin your synthesizers? Too much beer on the piano keys?” The keyboard man shakes his head: “No, no,” he mumbles, “that’s not it. It just dawned on me that I can play anything on the piano – Count Basie, Chopin, Pat Methany, you name it – but I can’t do what you guys just did. I somehow forgot that music was about passion and fun. I haven’t felt that in a long time.” Again he began to weep.

This unfortunate young man was in fact very fortunate, because he probably learned that day that it isn’t so much about what you play, but about how you play. It isn’t so much about what you say, it’s from where you say it. Anything that doesn’t come from the most powerful place, is not only weak, but even harmful. It endangers a species already too far from home, already too far from their hearts.