I don’t like the term “heart attack”. I’m calling what happened to me on May 27, 2021 my “heart event”. I experienced sudden, sharp pain in the region of my heart and radiating down my arm. Like many people, I ignored it at first — because after I lay down, it went away. But then it came back. Two stents in my artieries later, I’m healing from my heart event at the pace of poetry. My advice to you: don’t do what I did, and rationalize the pain away. If you feel pain in that vicinity, call 9-1-1. Just do it. They’re all so nice, and if it’s a false alarm, they’ll compliment you on your diligence in protecting your heart. Because the thing is, if it is a heart attack, the heart muscle begins to be damaged. The sooner they treat you, the sooner they arrest the damage.
That warning said, what I’ve found in the weeks following my repair (placement of two stents in my arteries), is that my metaphysical heart was engaged in a new process, along with my physical heart.
Funny how the emotional and spiritual center is called “the heart”. It’s apt. It’s the core of your being, as the physical muscle is the engine of your body. A “heart attack” may be a signal that you need to readjust a lot of things in life, not just your arteries.
First thing it did was knock me out of my achievement addiction. (It’s a real thing — go here for a definition.) And that brought me to what I like to call “the pace of poetry”. I’ve been someone who rushes through the day. I didn’t think of it as rushing — nor did I think about mindfulness — but I was missing a lot.
When a poet is dreaming a new poem, that mental state slows to a mindful drift. We notice the environment, widen attention and fuzz it slightly. Unfocus the sharp-edged analytical observation in a sweep of taking it all in, from tiny to vast. We begin to notice correspondences between the two.
As above, so below. The great mimics the microscopic. They mirror each other, back and forth, and that makes for metaphors. Which makes up a large part of modern poetry. I stepped back, went into fuzzy noticing mode. My heart felt better. My pulse slowed and I dream-drifted.
I hope you don’t have to have a heart event to get into that state of healing at the pace of poetry. Give yourself time this summer to just be open and aware. You don’t have to make poems or anything. You don’t even have to have thoughts. You can just notice the world. The world needs your happy attentiveness to it. I believe all things and beings when observed like this feel a little better.
Whether they know that came from you or not.
Thanks, Lesley. I appreciate your sympathy and sharing in the heart journey. Funny to feel the metaphorical become real. Through poetry. Hope you’re well and writing!
I love this post, Rachel. I’m sorry you’re going through the recovery but there’s a lot here I’m , well, taking to heart…
Thank you, Lisa!
“I believe all things and beings when observed like this feel a little better.” Such wisdom. Wishing you continued and sustained healing.