A Heart that Cannot Actually Break

I was walking through the Center the other day and I noticed a young man lying on the floor sleeping. He had one sock on and his other foot was bare. And for a brief moment, I set aside my tendency to rush into the next moment and just allowed myself to take in this person… to witness his circumstance. I began to ask questions in my mind. How did he get here? What was his life like before this day? What was his childhood like? Where was his family? Did he have any family? How does he find the strength to carry on in that circumstance? How do we continue to allow this to go on? He reminded me how often we encounter situations just like his and walk on past… how often we see tragedy before us but let it fade as we move on to the next thing. There’s something called compassion fatigue, which I don’t believe in. I don’t believe we get too tired to be compassionate. I prefer the term secondary trauma… that by experiencing the trauma of others we take on that trauma ourselves. And that we can also develop symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder just from witnessing other people’s trauma. One of the bigger symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder is cynicism, a loss of hope. It becomes too easy to look the other way, to ignore, to deny. John Welwood, author of Love and Awakening, wrote, “If we are to remain open and capable of engaging with our world rather than succumbing to depression or cynicism, we must learn how to live with a broken heart… It is only through letting our heart break that we discover something unexpected: the heart cannot actually break, it can only break open.” Being present to the hurt right in front of us is painful. No doubt. But it’s also a gift. On the other side of that presence is a life lived without fear. It is fullness. It is wholeness. It is kindness for ourselves and others. Paradoxically, it is the balm we seek from the very pain of the world that we so often seek to avoid. I often say that the act of service within a homeless shelter is only truly useful when we recognize its mutuality. That as we serve, we are served. The gift of an open heart overcomes any fear, any despair, any loss. It is the invincible summer in the midst of winter to paraphrase Camus. Let us remember that despite our fears to the contrary, our heart cannot actually break. Think about that. It can only break open.