A tale of two hearts š
I've been thinking a lot recently about the ego. Not in the context of being bigheaded, but rather, how the ego can be driven by fear. Why? Because I began to appreciate, perhaps for the first time in my life, how much of what we dislike about ourselves and our own behaviours - the ones that leave a bad taste in our mouths - may stem from fear. And I realised that, to counter our tendency to let fear decide how we respond to others, we must devote a fair bit of effort and energy to training our heart.
I could elaborate on this in great detail, as I've thought of little else over the last few weeks. There is a lot to write on the subject. However, for this post, I will concentrate on two disparate incidents that I witnessed recently: one in the sauna and one at the train station.
The sauna first. There were three of us sitting in the ambient low light: a man lying on his back on the top bench in one corner; me, sitting cross-legged in the next corner, also on the top tier; and finally, a woman lying in the remaining corner on the middle bench. After a while, a fourth person entered the room: an elderly lady who hovered momentarily while deciding where to sit. She looked left and right, assessed the room, and then asked the woman lying down if she would move her water bottle, which was on the low bench, to make space for her to lie down. There was a great deal of spare seating around the sauna which this late arrival could have chosen without the need to ask anyone to move themselves or their belongings. But this elderly woman, for whatever reason, wanted this exact spot. Right beneath the woman and right where the water bottle was situated.
This could have been perceived as pernickety, awkward - maybe even arrogant. It could have been seen as unnecessarily particular. But the water bottle woman graciously sat up and said in a kind voice, "Oh, you want to sit here? Sure." And she moved her bottle to make room. She looked at me as she did so and we simultaneously smiled a smile that said, we get this lady. We don't need to know why she wants that exact spot when there were so many alternatives to go for, but she did, and it was important to her. And that's kind of cute. And we connected across the semi-darkness and the warmth. The elderly woman settled into her preferred corner, and we all went back to our individual relaxation.
Now the train station. I was waiting for my Starbucks order. It was dark and cold outside, really early in the morning - about 6.45am. A frail-looking man with snow-white hair, barely any teeth, and, it seemed to me, no fixed abode was hovering on the periphery of the customer queue. His ragged clothes hung from his stick-thin frame, and his face had a grey pallor that worried me. It transpired he was waiting for a coffee that a female customer had bought him alongside her own.
A younger man, maybe around forty years old and also in the queue, glared at this older man. His eyes narrowed and, in an aggressive, loud tone, he barked, "No, NO. Do you hear me? Don't even try it, mate." The old man shuffled away, like a scared stray dog, fearful of receiving the hardness of someone's boot. The younger man called over a security guard and complained about the old manās presence, accusing him of begging and preying on the women in the queue, corralling them into buying him food and drinks. The security guy nodded and appeased the complainant, all the while the old man skulked away into the far reaches of the Starbucks premises, his eyes fixed on the shouty man. He stirred some sugar into his now-delivered coffee, clutching the cardboard cup in one of his bony hands clad in a tatty fingerless glove.
The forty-year-old man, satisfied, it seemed, that the security guard had validated his tirade, strode to a stool, sat down, and turned his attention to a cinnamon bun and steaming, creamy drink. Internally, I said to him, let's hope life never throws you a hail-storm of bad cards that leave you reeling, destitute, helpless, starving, freezing, alone, terrified and steeped in shame and otherness. Let's hope you never know how it feels to see people who are warm and fed and busy and fulfilled, while you are broken, empty, bored, rudderless, and devoid of any tiny scrap of joy in this life.
I walked over to the old man, gave him a couple of pounds to buy some food, and smiled. More than the money, I wanted to offer him the warmth of human contact after he had been shunned and disregarded, perceived as nothing more than a nuisance, like an annoying bluebottle buzzing around and ruining everyone's happy morning. He smiled back at me, his pale eyes lighting up for a brief second.
The woman in the sauna - her actions seemed to come from her heart. And the man in the station? I wondered what threat he saw in this older man, and whether his anger came from fear. I couldn't know. But I had watched him confront someone who looked so frail, who had been standing quietly at the edge of the queue. In the sauna, I felt love in the air. A positive energy, invisible bonds that connected strangers. And in the station, it was the opposite. Hostility, aggression, meanness. The air was thick with it, and for a while afterwards my heart ached with the lack of compassion I had just witnessed.
This is what has remained with me: in the sauna, a woman moved a water bottle and made room for someone she didnāt understand. At the station, a man who needed a little warmth was made to feel there was no room for him at all. We cannot always know what is going on in another personās heart. But we can choose to make room in our own when someone needs kindness.
If this post resonated with you, you might enjoy Wild Heart - my new paid subscription starting 12 October 2026. Youāll receive (by email) written pieces and how-to guides twice a week on personal growth, ego management, spirituality and the practice of living with more compassion and awareness. Plus, every two months, you will be invited to an exclusive live class (via Zoom) presented by a guest spiritual practitioner.
Applications are also now open for the Eyes Wide Open Club, an intimate circle for just eight women who have been sober for at least six months and want to keep growing together. The club begins at the end of October 2026. If youāre interested in finding out more, email me on support@lucyrocca.com
Lucy xx š
