A Heart Is More Than Just a Ticker

“I read of a man who stood to speak
“At the funeral of a friend
“He referred to the dates on the tombstone
“From the beginning...to the end

“He noted that first came the date of birth
“And spoke the following date with tears,
“But he said what mattered most of all
“Was the dash between those years”

“The Dash,” Linda Evans

The dash—writers call it an “em dash,” the width of a capital “M,” longer than a hyphen, and is used sparingly, but skillfully, to grab a reader’s attention. The dash of life tells the real story, and falls short without heart.

It’s not “the cars, the house, the cash,” Evans writes. “What matters is how we live and love…And how we spend our dash.”

I just returned from a 50th celebration at Fairfield University in Connecticut, a dash of a reunion.

The Class of '72, I observed, has been highly successful in its collective triumphs, accomplishments, and yes, there have been cars, houses and cash along the way.

I kidded, though, privately to some that I had plenty of cash, but that it was just tied up in debt.

However, as I looked around the well-appointed conference room at Fairfield, and spoke to scores of classmates, for the first time in more than a half century, I saw great heart in these men and women. They knew what mattered most—the dash between these years.

Education had taken hold, even with the time-honored Jesuit practice of placing roommates by unadorned alphabetical order, rather than advanced psychological testing—a roll of the dice. As an O’Brien, who roomed, by request, with a close high school friend, Brian Keefe, I was placed out of order with all the “Ks,” a brood, for the most part, of second and third generation Irish. We all bonded; we found the heart in one another.

As someone who deals now with diagnosed Alzheimer’s, a disease that has taken substantial branches of my family tree, I’ve learned over time that the mind may not be all that it’s cracked up to be. My mother, Virginia, who died after a brave but fierce battle with this disease, taught me in her journey that when the mind fails, speak and think from the heart, the place of the soul, she urged. I’m not trying to proselytize here; we all find faith in different ways. But I believe, through my mom, that the soul is the essence of love and life, and survives forever.

How many times in life has someone asked you: “Tell me what’s in your heart…Speak from your heart.”

With all the hate, rancor and discrimination in life today, I’ve learned that the search for the heart and the soul is the beginning of wisdom. And you don’t have to have a college degree to find it. You just have to walk in faith, however, one defines it—the dash.

Said Marcus Aurelius, the ancient Roman Emperor and a Stoic philosopher, “Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

“Many ancient cultures, including the Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Babylonians, and Greeks referred to the (physical) heart as a source of intelligence,” writes Deborah Rozman, Ph.D., HearthMath president and co-CEO. In a revised edition of HeartMath’s co-authored “Heart Intelligence,” she notes the ancients maintained “that the heart is…capable of influencing and directing one’s emotions, morality, and decision-making ability.” The ancients “consequently attached enormous emotional and moral significance to its behavior. Over thousands of years, most often without knowing about one another, cultures across the planet have seemed to share a similar knowledge about the heart as a source of intelligence and inner guidance.”

At Fairfield’s “50th reunion, with a swath of bucolic Long Island Sound not far in the distance, a sheet was passed around with the names of more than 40 members of the Class of ’72 who had passed away. As we all looked across the room, we realized, sadly, there will be more, here and elsewhere.

All something to consider in our dash these days as fears of war and sickness are haunting our souls. The world plainly needs to hit the restart button and the place to start is in the heart. It’s more than just a ticker…more than just an organ.

Eloquently writes poet Evans:

“If we treat each other with respect
“And more often wear a smile,
“Remembering this special dash
“Might only last a little while

“So, when your eulogy is being read
“With your life's actions to rehash...
“Would you be proud of the things they say
“About how you spent YOUR dash?”