Into the Magic Shop Page 20

  As I prepared for the speech, I thought of all these things and more. What could I give these students who were just beginning the arduous journey of becoming a physician? What could I give them that they could carry with them over the course of their careers? I thought of Ruth and the lessons she taught me that are with me every day. I thought of the mnemonic that had proved so powerful to me and that I recited every morning after awakening and often several times throughout the day. I thought of the patients I had met who taught me how to care and how to love. And I thought of death and how we have so little time in this world.

  I had learned to relax my body, quiet my mind, open my heart, and visualize what I wanted to manifest. I learned that what I wanted to manifest most was a world where people not only did no harm to one another but reached out to help one another. I had learned to use the compass of my heart to guide my way and to trust that wherever I ended up, that was exactly where I needed to be. I learned that we all fundamentally have the same brains and the same hearts and the same ability to change them, transform them, and use them for the benefit of all. I learned not to define people by where they are born, what they do, or how much they have. And I learned not to define myself by this either. I once thought there was something wrong with me because of the nature of my circumstances. I believed I had no worth if I had no money. I realized that I was not responsible for the circumstances of my birth and that to be defined by them was wrong. Everyone has worth, has value, and deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. Everyone deserves love. And everyone deserves a chance, and then a second chance.

  Each of us has a story, and in each story there are parts that are painful and sad. We can choose, at any moment, to see the people right in front of us for who they are and who they can be. Ruth saw a scared and lonely boy, but she also saw within me a heart that had been hurt. Each of us has wounds. And each of us has the ability to heal. She helped me heal. And you can do the same. Giving love is always possible. Every smile at a stranger can be a gift. Every moment of nonjudgment of another human being is a gift. Every moment of forgiveness, for yourself or for someone else, is a gift. Every act of compassion, every intention to serve, is a gift to this world and a gift to yourself.

  We are at the beginning of an age of compassion. People are yearning for an understanding of their place in the world and a way to be content and happy, and they are looking for a method of transformation. Ruth taught me a method that worked for me and maybe it was her insight and skill that allowed it to manifest as it did. Others have found their own methods to quiet their minds and open their hearts. Right now it’s a ripple in human consciousness fueled by compassion, but it’s a ripple that has the potential to become a tsunami.

  We are on a journey of connection. It is the journey of opening our heart to our fellow beings on this earth and recognizing that they are our sisters and brothers. Recognizing that one act of compassion leads to another act of compassion, and so on across the globe. In the end, how well we love each other and how well we take care of each other will be what determines the survival of our planet and our species. His Holiness the Dalai Lama says, “Love and compassion are necessities; without them humanity cannot survive.” I realized not only in medicine but in life this was true. How was I going to share these values with this group of young students who were about to embark on a career of service?

  I walked up the steps to the stage at the auditorium at Tulane and looked out at the twelve hundred students, faculty, and their families. I scanned the expectant faces of the students. I recalled sitting in the auditorium attending my own version of the White Coat Ceremony so many years before, but sadly I could neither recall the speaker nor what was said. In fact, my only recollection was receiving a white coat and taking the oath.

  I began to speak as a great wave of emotion washed over me. I shared with the audience my journey and told them of the doctor who inspired me in the fourth grade and of the woman who believed in me, Ruth. Each of them listening, I said, had the power to change the life of others for the better, not only the lives of their patients but also the lives of all those around them. Sometimes it takes only a smile or a kind word. I told them that while medicine had changed, it was still a noble profession. Then I told them about the alphabet of the heart and I went through each letter and its meaning. As I finished with L and the word love, my voice cracked, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

  “There is no perfect life we are born into, and there is no escaping the awful reality of suffering. There is also no escaping the beautiful synchronicity of the heart.” I paused for a moment as I prepared to end my talk. I saw a young man in the audience and saw myself all those years ago.

  “Today you have sealed your path with an oath. This path will take you to life’s deepest and darkest valleys where you will see how trauma and disease destroy lives, and sadly you will see what one human is capable of inflicting upon another and even more sadly what one human is capable of inflicting on himself. But it will also take you to life’s highest peaks where you will see the meek demonstrate strength you thought not possible, cures for which you can find no explanation, and the power of compassion and kindness to cure human ills. And by doing so you will see the very face of God.”

  I realized I had been so focused on these last words that I wasn’t paying close attention to the audience. As I finished, I saw that many were crying. I looked around at my colleagues onstage and they too were crying. And I realized that I had tears running down my cheeks. Suddenly the entire audience stood and applauded. They were not applauding just me or my journey but our collective journey toward greater compassion and ever-greater humanity.

  So many people were waiting at the side of the stage, thanking me, crying, and telling me how my talk had opened their hearts.

  I thought of my life and of Ruth. I again realized the power of her words and the power of her magic. It is a power that lives in each of us that is just waiting to be released. It is the gift we can give to one another.

  I walked out of the auditorium and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I paused and closed my eyes and allowed myself to just be.

  It was OK.

  I was OK.

  I began my quest to discover the mysteries of the brain and the secrets of the heart in a magic shop, but the truth is, we don’t need to walk into a magic shop to discover them. We need only to look into our own minds and into our own hearts.

  Now it is up to you to make your own magic. And to teach others. The brain and the heart, working together, can make the most extraordinary magic there is. It has nothing to do with illusions or sleights of hand.

  This magic is real.

  And just as it was the greatest magic Ruth could offer me, it is also the greatest magic I can offer you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In my position as the founder and director of the Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education (CCARE) at Stanford University School of Medicine, I have shared many times the story of my childhood and what motivated me to dedicate a great portion of my time and energy to researching compassion and its power to change lives. The stories I shared seemed to resonate deeply with many people, and often I was asked when I would write a book. For many reasons, I had avoided such entreaties in part because it required a commitment of time and effort in the face of an already busy schedule, and probably more so because I knew from telling the stories that often they took me back to periods in my life that were difficult and painful.

  My feelings changed when, while attending the eightieth birthday of Desmond Tutu in Cape Town, I had the privilege of meeting Doug Abrams of Idea Architects. At the time, I was not aware that he was Archbishop Tutu’s literary agent. Unbeknownst to me then, Doug had attended many CCARE events. He shared with me how inspiring he found my stories, and he thought that a book had the capacity to inspire many and shared with me how inspiring they had been to his father.
In fact, he told me, the reality is that while his goal as a literary agent was to bring inspiring stories to the world, the bigger motivator was to bring this narrative to his father in the form of a book. How could I say no?

  Like so many things in life, they are not done alone or by one individual. And this is the case in this instance. Not only was Doug critical in assisting me in creating a proposal, more important, through his contacts and the respect he garners in the publishing world, he was able to partner me with the extraordinary Caroline Sutton at Avery, an imprint of Penguin Random House. Her support, encouragement, and guidance really allowed my story to come to life in the form of a book.

  Once the contract was signed, I suddenly realized the burden I had accepted and the associated deadline for completion. Fortunately, Idea Architects came to the rescue by partnering this effort with their editorial director, Lara Love. At every stage, I could not have asked for a more helpful, diligent, and thoughtful person to guide me through the process of the writing and editing. Also her ability to turn a phrase, her talent for finding the critical details that bring a story to life, and her gentle nudging for me to go to places that often were uncomfortable and painful were critical to any success this book might achieve. For almost two years, Lara and I met twice weekly before sunrise, and it is through this period that she also became a close friend, and it is this friendship for which I am most grateful.

  I would also like to thank my extraordinary wife and life partner, Masha, whose support I try not to take for granted. Being married to a neurosurgeon means many missed events and often leaving in the middle of the night and returning home exhausted. In the face of this, my wife has supported my endeavors in promoting the power of compassion to change lives. For this I am forever grateful.

  I would like to acknowledge the many others who throughout my life have helped me along my journey and who have so often shown me the path.

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