A Story of Unexpected Compassion

While at the cardiologist's office last week, signing in with the receptionist, asking her some questions, a woman suddenly appeared behind me.  She interrupted in a frantic, anxious voice, obviously distressed:

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I just need to know when my appointment is because I have an echogram scheduled down the hall and I want to make sure I don't miss my appointment with the doctor."

I gently responded " no problem" to her interruption and stepped aside while she frantically went on.  I immediately noticed a portion of a vertical scar on her chest above the open top of her blouse - a sign of open heart surgery.

She was a fairly young (through my 68 year old eyes) short woman, disheveled, with stringy, dirty-blonde hair.  And even though it was nearly 60 degrees with no snow on the ground, she wore snow boots and a winter coat that sat cockeyed on her shoulders as she flailed her arms about excitedly; the unbuttoned coat flapped around as she flailed, in very apparent anxiety.  She reminded me of one of those odd characters in stories or movies, who interrupt a scene to bring awareness to something; to get your attention.  I could see the stress and fear on the woman's face, and in her body motions...  It was a familiar look and feeling.  I could relate...  I saw myself in her - although not quite as exaggerated - but often how I feel inside...

She kept apologizing for interrupting, and I kept saying it was no problem at all, that I understood; trying to put her at ease.

The receptionist, somewhat guarded, responded to her in a firm, almost stern voice - that her appointment was at 2:30 (it was now just after 1pm), and that she had time to get her echocardiogram done and come back in time for her appointment.  The woman left in a hurry, scuffing her snow boots across the carpeted floor.

I finished with the receptionist and took a seat, waiting for my turn.

After my visit with the doctor, I came out to a full waiting room - a sea of faces.  As I stood at the desk to make another appointment, I turned and saw the disheveled woman sitting there - fidgeting.  While I waited for the scheduler to attend to me, as she made no acknowledgment of my presence, I turned to the woman and said: "I see you made it back ok" - smiling.

She exhaled a long drawn out "yessss", looking frazzled - making more antsy body movements in her chair.

I said to her - "I have anxiety too" and smiled again, just wanting to soothe the woman's obvious internal suffering, as I knew deeply what that feels like - to be so anxious, to be so wound up inside that calmness doesn't seem possible at times.  And how "peace" often feels like a noble idea, just out of reach, while my frenetic mind and body take over, just like hers did.

I am haunted by the memory of her now - knowing how painful it is to go through life with such emotional intensity and the fear that lies hidden in the body, erupting in uncontrollable outbursts of anxiety at times - or heart problems :) - when awareness fails - although I have learned to meet it when the fearful mind arises, embracing it - trying to ride out its ferocity...  still...  I know how it feels when it is out of control...

Afterwards I was very aware that "I" didn't *decide* to be compassionate, yet Something in me responded automatically to her, from the Heart.  Compassion arose unexpectedly; a heartfelt response to reach out to someone in trouble - emotionally.

How ironic - in the cardiologist's office, where they take care of hearts, that I would experience a real Heart opening for another human being; meeting her where she was in her fear, not making judgments about her behavior...  Maybe that was a reflection, just a little glimpse in the mirror, of who "I" truly am - the True Self within.  Deep inside this fearful heart beats a Heart of Compassion...  I find that somehow comforting...

It's there in all of us, our True Nature, if we only open to it...

_/\_

Namaste

Please note:  this is not written to say how wonderful I am.  It's not about "me" being compassionate, but how the Heart opened and compassion arose unexpectedly.  How the disheveled woman came to me to teach me that it is there even when I don't realize it.  The woman's "condition" slowed my mind and gave me a different perspective.  I am forever grateful to the disheveled woman, and send her blessings wherever she is...

~*~

The only difference between "you" and "me"
are the words and concepts of "you" and "me."
The Source of everything is the same
- Love and Compassion -
this is [the True] Self.

Papaji