An Open Heart

In my life February is heart month.  Birthdays - my own and many family. Valentine's. The day I got my pacemaker is in February - how close to the heart can you get?

Yesterday I noticed vividly the tan dried leaves of dormant winter in the trees at the park.  Some had lost their leaves completely.  The pines ever in their green.  They wear the winter well.  As I walked to my car I noticed the jonquils were in rare multiple bud form this year.  Maybe it's the seventh year when they multiply.  It sure seems so.  Though one stood out in a row of buds - full bloom standing tall.  Could it be it had opened it's heart to this chill in the air without regard for the risk it took to do so?

When I went in for heart surgery I did pretty much as I often do.  I pretty much ignored that it was me this was happening to.  Short of breath, gaining weight from the drugs that managed high BP and heart tissue thickness.  That moment the nurse said to the surgeon in consultation "And what's the diagnosis?'.  "Heart failure" he said.

WHAT? WHO?

Oh geez they must be talking about someone else, she's only been in here for like three minutes.

They fixed it! Well they repaired the issues that Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy (HCM) causes.  They stopped my heart, opened my heart up and carved down a thickened septum that was slowly shutting me down.  Crazy huh still to this day.  It's a fix, not a cure.  But a good fix.  

Is opening your heart a good thing?

The recovery of that particular heart opening has been difficult tho it's gotten easier. I couldn't walk 300 steps when I first came home from the hospital and now each day I expect 10,000 steps of myself.  In being realistic I've set 50,000 steps as a weekly goal.   That number should have health benefits and maybe keep my heart from having to be opened for that particular reason for a long time.

I find myself reflective on Sunday mornings.  I recall the Sunday mornings of life readying for church and often unique Sunday dinners - either in home or at a restaurant.  Many of my favorite places serve chicken and dressing on Sundays.  That's a heart food and isn't that what we do on Sundays.  We open our hearts and feed them. I think in the ready for spiritual centering in our lives, I've often seen Sunday as a new week's beginning of heart opening in much the same way as Monday's are for opening of your heart (stomach) to begin eating right again.  Sunday we open our hearts to the spiritual food we need.  Formal or not, musical or not, the moment arrives and we find ourselves at a new beginning.  Or we continue!  We continue that journey of opening our heart to what's best for us, what feeds that eternal juggling pattern of keeping mind, body and soul in unison.

I'm attempting to open my heart to new and good things for myself.  I'm a clutter monster as I surround myself with relics that probably will never have a use but I like how focusing on the relics provoke feelings, memories, hopes, dreams and - oh geez - DUST!  My clutter monster is smothering my jonquil blood within. It has no room to stand up much less bloom.

I'm not one to try new things that easily but as I stand (sit) in the 3rd quarter of my life I know I must open my heart to many things or I'll not experience them.  I'll sit here and say I want a modern, simplistic home but I have not opened my heart to tossing the things that I'll never use again to make room for things I use so much more.

I am challenged to open my heart to new things and I find solace and strength this Sunday morning on the fact that I've opened my heart up for renewal and strength just as what Sundays are for.  My daily walks in the quiet of that heart therapy gives me time to think and find myself.  Just as I must keep my heart tissue as soft as possible and myself as healthy as I can to fight back on the HCM I must soften my thoughts to how thrilled in the heart I'd be to wake up in a new place some mornings by opening myself to explore beyond my comfort zone.

Thus I say unto you... that sounds Sunday morning huh?  Thus I say unto you I will open my heart to new things building on a foundation but not resting it.  I will open my heart to continuing to work on mind, body and soul.  And this Sunday is a good day to start, to continue.

Heart Failure?  No Way!

AN OPEN HEART!  YES.... let's carve that septum. Cranberry sauce?

The Path

I often recall when I was 12 we moved out in the country. It was only about 3 miles from true civilization but it seemed 300 at times. The real difference was we had family living on the same 15 acre plot. (Plot sounds so such a graveyard term so I think it's best to just say it was 15 acres of isolation - ha! Or so I thought.)

Over time we adapted and somehow the next several years we adjusted, had things you'd never have in the city (like horses and a big garden) and as one of my cousins stated last year, "we had the best family support structure that a kid could ask for or imagine". There was a time when I believe not only my family, my paternal grandparents but two aunts and one uncle along with their families lived within walking distance. Maybe we didn't all live there at the same time but I think the years for sure overlapped some.

I often made the path between our house and my Grandmother's house. She was always cooking something and always sharing a meal with us. Her house was warm and there was always someone there. It was like a hub. Relatives stopped by and there were many.

The worn path meandered around a tree stump, a big rock or two, you could tuck under the clothesline or go around. In some places it was wider than others and easy to navigate. It was unlit except by moonlight. I walked it often without even a flashlight and traced my shadow and trajectory to the end point porch lights. It was worn and true. It represented the connection between the houses but oh so much more.

I haven't taken time lately to look at the path and for sure I haven't walked it but the path stands out in my mind and I want to remember everything that it represents.

Today.

And Always - Life is a journey. A path.