Heart of the Matter

Valentine's Day makes its appearance six weeks after the frozen turn of the year and six weeks before spring usually blossoms in Cleveland. (This arctic year...who knows.) On the calendar, it's a kind of pivot point. The heart is at the center of our lives...no matter how tiny or large the creature, it has a heart. Yet, technology has begun to elbow our feelings out of the way. Ironically, I post these sentiments electronically.

I began a meditation on this topic while driving, where large vehicles protrude, aggression reigns, and blood boils. Passing a preserved one-room schoolhouse, I saw two heart wreaths juxtaposed on the wooden doors. I thought of the bond of loyalty and mutual respect that once linked teacher and student. (I have spent many years as both.) Today, an adversarial atmosphere mars classrooms. There is mutual suspicion at times. Parents blame teachers; teachers blame parents; many blame the intrusion of legislators in the educational process. The heart of the teaching relationship--trust--seems lost. I could despair (and some days do), but then remember some of my own most cherished students and teachers. They were wise. Compassionate. Made me feel so privileged to cross their paths. My heart is full of love for them.

At risk also: The doctor and patient relationship. I think of this at a stoplight. What I call "stopwatch medicine" is the norm. I have heard that some hospitals or insurance companies demand a quota of patients seen per hour, per day. Could this be true? Two linked hearts may seem an overstatement to represent the ideal relationship--yet, "old world" doctors who made housecalls saved my life several times. They helped, and they gave me courage to heal. I once heard a doctor who served Amish country speak to a college audience. He said two things were certain: he would be paid, even if it took years...and it was unlikely he would ever be sued.

The light changes. I have observed extremes of incivility in cyberspace--a medium that would have been pure fantasy when I was in elementary school. (Go ahead: estimate my age.) A body of research even explores the "mean-while-anonymous" phenomenon. Perhaps it is the opposite of "random acts of kindness." I know of one suicide exacerbated by cyberbullying. This technology could unite the world, if it doesn't first destroy it. Have I ever felt like fainting, upon getting an irate email? Definitely. Perhaps we need an addendum to the Tabor's medical dictionary or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of emotional disorders. A.T.S.S.: Acute technological stress syndrome. Treatment: Get off the computer. Remove headphones. Turn off cellphone. Look out the window. Breathe.

I channel surf for a moment as I drive, seeking an uplifting tune. Guess what: "nothing lasts forever in love..." One need not be a country singer to know that, nor check local divorce statistics. But I just looked out the window and passed a graying couple walking hand-in-hand in snow.

Love is as old--and potentially enduring--as the human heart. Keeping an open heart is so difficult. But maybe I can invoke the wonder I felt on Valentine's morning as a kindergartner. I woke up early to address cards to classmates. I felt a surge of caring amid pinks and reds, a feeling that my goodwill could really touch another heart.

Life continually challenges that early idealism. Technology tests my patience. But then again, here is the possibility for distant connection, relationship, and a synchronized heartbeat in time.

Polar Bear Photo Credit: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (public domain)