Original heart stories

When the idea for Heart is Hot first emerged, I really did buy a small bag of un-engraved, plain glass hearts to have "just in case". I was curious about the idea of following my intuition in those moments where I felt impacted by a person or situation.

What I was not necessarily prepared for was the overwhelming response I received from those whom I shared these hearts. It was both magnificent and humbling. The gratitude coming from these people stunned me, and I felt the power of unconditional love and connection surface between my recipient and I. One woman on the streets of San Francisco that I spotted crying told me that she was contemplating suicide, and the gesture of the heart had just saved her life. From those moments on, I was even more certain of my path to get the hearts out in the world to spread their love. Everyone needs a heart.

The below stories reflect the feelings of a few special people who received a heart from me early on. They are willing to share their experience with all of us.

Story 1: "The Heart"

I lost my dad on Jan. 6, 2006. I was devastated. I couldn't believe what had happened. I went through all the motions of everything I was suppose to do each day, but I was numb to it all. I had no one for support. Not one person sent a card or a flower. I wasn't looking for them though. Only now do I realize this. I couldn't get out of the fog I was in.

Then one day, when I picked up the mail, there was a small padded envelope with something inside. I didn't recognize the address or from where it came. Upon opening it I found a small, smooth, pink stone in the shape of a heart. I smiled a little. It was the first time I smiled since Jan. 6. A little confused, I read the note from someone I barely knew. It was short and sweet. A simple gesture sent to me just because she'd heard of my news. Later, I politely thanked her for it and continued with my days. But I carried it in my pocket every day, just because.

I was in charge of handling all of the difficult arrangements for my father. Every day seemed to bring new challenges I had to face and decisions I had to make. All the while I told myself I had to continue to be that super-strong businessperson. I couldn't let anyone see me weaken at work. How did I get through it? I can reflect now, finally.

In a crazy-metaphysical-kind-of-way, one that I am not sure if I even believe in, I think that pink stone in my pocket, shaped like a heart helped me through it all. Some kind of invisible energy, unfelt, unnoticed until now, exchanged. Could that stone have been giving me strength? Maybe.

Did I give all my emotional energy to that little stone in my pocket each time I put my hand there for comfort and felt it's cool smoothness? Maybe. More likely, I think. All the thoughts and emotions that raged through me, unexpressed and unnoticed, found their outlet in the tips of my fingers and the palm of my hand. They all melted into the tiny, smooth stone as if it were a giant sponge. I carried that little stone heart every day. Not knowing why or for how long.

In February my father's remains were delivered to me in a beautiful mahogany box. Inside the box was also a small drawer where I placed cherished photos and letters. I pulled the little pink heart out of my pocket and placed it inside with him also. On March 3 we buried my father with these tokens. And only I know that all of my love had made its way into my pocket. and would now rest with him forever.

Story 2: "my own honor"

there is no best time to feel connected the blood red heart came to me; I gasped and then I wept

the heart made me notice realize believe love at a time my own heart was breaking and my head was spilling confusion.

i could stop and look at the heart look at myself look at the heart.

instead of giving up in sorrow I felt connected to the world again.

I was able to hold feel my own honor reflected in the melted mirror in the heart.

I left the sorrow, kept going, reconecting . . . really it's okay to love myself.

Story 3:

When Sahara told me her concept of Heart is Hot, I immediately thought it was brilliant. It's simple, but powerful. A red heart passed between friends and loved ones and even strangers that will eventually tell a story.

My heart story began when I received a package from Sahara in Santa Cruz, California, July 2005. I was a bit of a wreck heading into jaw surgery, but Sahara sent me my very own "hot heart". When I couldn't talk, my heart listened.

Now my heart lives in Sun Valley, Idaho and it has served me well during some difficult transition times and as such it has been challenging for me to part with it.

As I write my Heart is Hot Story, I have come to the realization that it's time for a new chapter and with that my heart will be packaged with love and care and sent to my brother in Reno, Nevada on November 1st, 2007 where he is recovering from a head surgery that has left the right side of his head paralyzed.

Some of the simplest gestures bare the most powerful answers and eventually tell the most beautiful stories.

Now, my own heart smiles.