The art of heart maintenance

It was my first visit to Calcutta. The pot-holed road from the airport was lined with humpies and flocks of vultures leering with menace at all passing by. The taxi arrived at the Red Shield Hostel, a little haven for travelers in the heart of Calcutta near the Queen Victoria memorial.

It was a memorable week, observing life in the 'City of Joy'. Each day as I left the Hostel I was greeted by a couple of young beggar girls clothed in dirty rags with hair matted in thick knots.

They repeatedly chanted the mantra "One rupee, one rupee", that was followed with a radiant smile that would flash across their faces with a naughty twinkle in the eye. They always won.

I would dig deep and pull out a rupee or two. I became quite a stable source of income, so each day I could see them waiting for me and the mantra changed to, "Two rupees, two rupees".

Nearing the end of the week I emerged from the Hostel to find an older woman with the girls. In broken English she invited me to visit their home. We moved our way through the streets to a large vacant lot covered with humpies built with everything and anything imaginable: plastic bags, packing boxes, old tyres, hessian bags, discarded bits of wood.

Many people gathered to greet me and I was offered food and drink with so much love and generosity (though perhaps partly financed by me!). Around these two little girls was a loving support structure of parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins and more.

In this desperate scene of abject poverty there was nothing . . . nothing but love, and that love was so rich it seemed to be everything that was needed. I began to think that these two little girls, who had become my friends, were lucky. It seemed to me that no matter what the circumstances, when the heart is maintained, life can be good.

However, if the heart is empty or broken or closed, nothing ever seems to satisfy, no matter what the circumstances. To compensate an empty heart, we crave wealth or power or fame or anything that will fill the void.

In August of 1997, the world was shocked with the news of the death of Princess Diana. On one level it seemed she had everything except perhaps one missing ingredient . . . love. She craved true love. Her life was a testament to the search for true love.

It seems the world-wide grief was the result of people identifying with her search for love to truly maintain the heart. We are all searching for it, but how often do we find it?

I think there are a few times in life when we emerge the feelings of true love.

A friend told me he was on a subway in Toronto in the heart of winter. The peak hour train was full of long grey faces, all seemingly isolated and disconnected from each other. There was a stony cold silence. The train stopped at a station, the doors opened, and in walked a young woman with a newborn baby in her arms.

The innocence, the vulnerability of the baby touched them all. A new feeling filled the train. All the drawn faces began to glow with gentle smiles. That which is authentic and pure attracts our love.

The baby had no masks, no barriers or facades, and its openness kindled the dormant feelings of love amongst the watching people. Just by being itself, the baby's qualities had the power to emerge love in strangers.

Recently I spent time with someone dying of cancer. When I first met this woman, she had just been diagnosed and was full of fear and burden. Life experience had etched a deep sadness in her face.

But during the last few months of her life there was a dramatic change. Her face now radiated joy and love. She had let go so many burdens carried for a lot of her life. She had let go trying to impress, let go the hurts from others, let go the pressure to be something she was not, let go the inferiority complex.

But most of all she had let go of the fear of dying, which liberated her from the fear of living also. She discovered her authentic self and, like the baby, became so lovable to all around her.

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