Keeping Your Heart Open in Hell

Do you have these moments too?

I could think of countless ones. Driving along and seeing animals on trucks, cramped, hurt, injured on their way to slaughter. Defenceless beings, eyes wide, terrified. Once, I was stuck behind one of those trucks. An injured animal stared at me. I stared back. Our eyes locked.

My heart hurt.

I felt powerless. I wanted to escape.

And yet, I’m also a hypocrite. I wear animal leather as shoes.

One evening in Tiru, I was walking out of a restaurant. Just a regular evening. But then I heard it a cry. I looked across and saw a chicken being slaughtered by two people. A knife to its throat. It was dying in front of me.

Do I accept this?

Is this what I stand for?

Are my choices fuelling this?

Consumption matters.

Once you start to wake up, you begin thinking about things you never used to.

It’s inevitable. Just because millions do something doesn’t make it right.

What does your heart say?

Years ago, an ex-partner told me she was going vegetarian. I couldn’t believe it.

But I’m Greek, I said. All we eat is meat! I gave her a hard time. I hang my head in shame now.

It’s not easy to be honest with yourself.

I’ve walked down the streets of Melbourne and seen people sleeping rough. Homeless. Addicted. Lost. And I’ve walked past them too. But not always. I’ve bought meals, drinks, whatever I could. I’m not a saint. Just someone trying to keep their heart open in hell.

I could’ve ended up on the street too. In my early 20s, my life was completely off the rails. My path could’ve gone either way.

When I dropped off an injured puppy at the Tiruvannamalai animal hospital, the manager invited me inside. I wasn’t prepared.

Hundreds of dogs.

All barking.

All looking at me.

Some Injured.

Some unable to move.

All of them suffering.

I was in hell.

How do people work in this environment?

These were people doing God’s work.

Every moment.

Every day.

They gave me a quick tour, there was a section for cats, and even injured monkeys.

“Injured monkeys?” I asked.

He smiled. “Yes. Monkeys.”

I looked at the wall. There was a photo of Sathya Sai Baba with animals. And another of Ramana Maharshi with animals. Others too. Saints. Sages. Masters.

All with animals.

I couldn’t help but wonder about what I had just experienced.

I’m not a saint. I’m not a sage. I’m not a master.

But I have love in my heart.

And this, this is the spiritual path. The hardest one of all.

But the only one worth walking.

One step at a time, toward truth.