Lessons of the Heart, Part 3: Limbo

 

   

                The story continues… At week 7 of my journey of the heart, I am feeling very good physically.  I am taking 2 drugs to control my heart rate, one of which is dangerous to take for more than 2-3 months.  I am also finding that my mind is not as calm as I would like it to be.  My mind seems determined to be busy.  The following thoughts are not there all the time, but they recur with some regularity and stubbornly persist: 

                “I don’t know what to do.  I could go without any treatment, but that could greatly increase the chances of atrial fibrillation episodes (with heart beat of 160-170) which leave me tired and winded and can weaken the heart.  If I wait to do surgery to repair my heart valve, I may have to have surgery in 5 years, and the older I get the harder for my body to handle.  On the other hand, if I have surgery, I will need to decide whether to do open heart surgery(sawing the length of the sternum and opening up the rib cage—very scary), or one of several types of “minimally invasive” heart surgery (less trauma but maybe I won’t get the same quality of end product;  also it’s a longer time on the heart/lung machine which increases the risk of brain damage).  If I want “minimally invasive” (but still invasive) surgery, then I have to go to Portland (120 miles away) which will make things more difficult if there are complications or follow up visits are needed.” 

                Other thoughts are also churning around:   “I am currently in the middle of a ‘science experiment’ and the experiment is on me to see if my heart is knocked back into atrial fibrillation as I gradually return to my previous level of activity (exercise and physical labor). The results of the experiment will determine my path of treatment.  In addition, if I have open heart surgery to repair my mitral valve, a decision will need to be made about whether to have the moderately damaged aortic valve replaced at the same time (which would lengthen my time on the pump and increase chances of brain damage).”

                Clearly, much is unknown and there are many decisions to make.  In keeping with what I have learned from Buddhist teachings, I need to do two things.  First, I need to patiently continue to collect information to eventually get clarity on what choices to make.  Second, I need to look deeply at my internal response (mental and emotional) to the medical situation I am in so I can have some sort of peace with it.  What practices can I use?   

                I’ve identified four areas where I can work :  1) Staying present.  2) Dropping mental resistance to the state of not knowing.  3) Giving up the idea of permanent solutions.  4) Getting curious about the emotions that are arising and making peace with them using meditation.  

                At the top of the list of practices:  Stay in the present moment.  The following sentence is my guide.

 All of the things that scare me are in the future—they do not exist in this moment and it’s quite possible that none of them will exist in the future, either. 

                I need to focus on and enjoy my life right now:  writing this blog, being with friends, playing music, doing maintenance on our home, being of service to others, preparing food to eat… This is the stuff of real life. Don’t miss out on my life which is unfolding in front of me right now because of the need for future decisions.  When I find myself spinning off into the future it is as if my mind is a room and trying to figure out the future has entirely filled up the room so that there is no room for anything else.  The practice here is to bring at least one other thing into the room—a tree in the window, the smell of cooking in the next room.  There are other things in the world besides plotting the future.

                In doing Tai Chi (a form of movement meditation) one morning I noticed how easy it was to just be with/do the Tai Chi—life was very easy in that moment because I was present and just feeling the physical sensations and seeing the room and feeling muscles move, clothes brushing against skin.  This lifts me out of the thought stream and unites me with what is real.

                Practicing gratitude for what I have now can also help with staying present.  I can get quiet and say silently “I am grateful for Sandy’s love.  I am grateful for the education I’ve been blessed with...” and so on.  These are things I can say to myself at various times of the day or as a sitting medication, saying the first part of each sentence on the in-breath, and the second part on the out-breath.  This helps anchor me in the present. 

                Being in a state of “don’t know” is not my preference, but it is the way things are right now.  In order to not suffer (as much) I need to surrender to that reality:  “I say Yes to not knowing the future.”(see Lessons of the, Heart Part 1 for a fuller explanation of this practice).

                In addition, I need to give up—over and over again—the idea/illusion that a something can be settled/fixed “once and for all time.”  A very central teaching from the Buddha is that everything in the world is impermanent.  When we forget this, we suffer when something changes.  One day I went to work at the college where I used to teach and found a new computer on my desk. I didn’t ask for it, I was very happy with the old computer and didn’t want a new one.  Suddenly I had to spend time learning how to do things on the new one.  But the College simply decided I needed a new one.  Things change.  If I expect or demand that they don’t change, I will suffer.  If I think there is a permanent fix for my heart issues, I will suffer because I will be looking for something that doesn’t exist.  I do the best I can with my medical issues but remind myself that things will change in my body and a new fix of some kind will be needed at some point.  When I remember this and accept it, my life becomes more peaceful.  That is an ongoing practice for me in dealing with my heart issues.  My health issues will constantly change and evolve as I get older, and new solutions will need to be found.

                Lastly, I can sit with the emotions that come up in connection with not knowing.  I sit in meditation and ask myself “What am I feeling right now?”  When I do this, I notice fear and agitation and tension in the body. My mind is much less settled and calm; I feel buzzed .  I can then do a silent acknowledgement of the emotion:  “Hello, fear, I know that you are there.”  This can help to loosen its grip on me. Following that, I try to focus on experiencing the emotion:  Where do I actually feel it in the body?  What does it actually feel like (some pressure across my upper back, neck and back of head, etc.).   When I do this there is a sense of relaxation and relief.  The emotions are still there, but there is a sense of peace with them. 

                I then may want to ask myself, “What is the general nature of the thought stream that is present?”  When I just observe the thoughts, I notice that it is a combination of “mental movies” of what could happen in the future, and that a lot of these things are things I strongly do not want.  I also notice that there are thoughts of how to fix my situation.  A small part of this may actually be useful, but almost all of it is a waste of energy and just causes suffering.  I can chose to bring my mind back to something real in my present environment.  The thoughts will tend to recur, but if I see them as just thoughts arising and having no substance, their power to cause me suffering is greatly reduced.

 

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