Two recent incidents I attribute to the Silva Method - one concerns a recipe for soup and the other the necessary ingredients to ‘open the heart.’

In January a friend phoned to ask for the recipe for the carrot and lemon soup which I had served up to her at a meal a year or two previously at my home. I thought I knew exactly where to find the recipe but after quite a bit of searching realised that I had absolutely no idea where it was. I phoned her and apologised and promised to let her have it straight away should it show up. A week after this incident I repeated the Silva Basic Course which prompted me to think that I hadn’t actually done everything that I could to find the missing recipe – I hadn’t gone to level. Once I got home I went to level and simply stated that I needed to find the carrot and lemon soup recipe. Immediately I saw, in my mind’s eye, the cover of the book and the book’s title. I also ‘saw’ the drawer where the book was. I couldn’t wait to check this out and rushed downstairs to the kitchen where I found the book at the bottom of the drawer under many other items. I posted the recipe to my friend and told her the circumstances under which I recovered the book. She was most impressed.

The second incident does not concern a lost item but relates to a lost faculty – compassion. Since my first attendance at the Silva Basic Course in July 2005 I had been faithfully working with the ideas and getting results. After watching the news one night I was musing over the fact that there was a great need in the world for more compassion, a need for people to feel connected to each other and to the planet. I found myself saying the words, ‘Let it begin with me.’ Suddenly, I had a new goal – to rediscover compassion.

I was Sunday 14^th January 2007 and I was about to repeat the second day of the Basic Course in London. I was not best pleased as I had just been told that my train from Maidenhead had been cancelled and that I would have to wait another fifty minutes on this bitterly cold morning. I sat on a bench and went through some of my Silva goals then went on to do some work on memory pegs – working on the list from the previous day.

As I was writing a short, red haired woman came and put her bags down on the bench beside me. She didn’t sit down and appeared to be waiting for me to stop writing but she said nothing. When I had finished writing and put my pen away she moved forward and handed me a piece of paper on which the words Ealing Broadway – South Kensington were written. It soon became clear that she spoke no English and it was with some difficulty that I learned that she was Polish and trying to get to South Kensington. I tried to explain that she should just stay with me and I’d get her there but language was a barrier.

Suddenly, she pulled a rolled up newspaper out of her bag and handed it to me. To my surprise the Polish lady’s photo was in the newspaper – her name was Walentyna. I found myself reading about the recent National Express Coach crash on the slip road between the M25 and the M4. Two people had died and a young mother called Anna had lost an arm. Anna, who was now in Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, was Walentyna’s daughter. My heart leapt as I looked over at the strong, little lady who stood before me. I read on and also learned that Walentyna had tragically lost her son in 1992. Again I looked across at the still, silent Polish lady who was watching me intently. Language was no longer a barrier; there was another way to communicate. I threw open my arms and gave her a hug. We both cried. Were the waiting passengers watching us? I have no idea because in that moment my only awareness was of a huge wave of compassion sweeping over me.

Walentyna phoned a Polish friend who spoke to me in English and through her I was able to communicate to Walentyna that she should stay with me all the way to the underground, and then get off two stops after me at South Kensington – she knew the route from the station. I could see her physically relax. On our journey we’d look across at each other from time to time and smile - the knowing smile that only mothers understand. When it was time for me to get off the train at High Street Kensington we hugged again and we waved to each other as the train pulled out of the station.

As I hurried along Kensington High Street it suddenly dawned on me that this amazing encounter had ‘opened the heart’ and that I had experienced a whole new level of compassion. This feeling lasted for days after the encounter. I ‘knew’ that we are all connected and I could see that we sometimes play major roles in others’ lives – often without knowing it. I did not treat this encounter as a ‘coincidence.’ I treated it as a ‘result.’

VIH

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