Heart Drum by Sara Wright

I listened to
my heart
murmuring
softly
her voice
a viscous fluid
slow moving river
changing course
from right
to left
pumping molten minerals
over bones
tunneling around limbs
amazement
overcomes me
Whole Earth
holds heart songs
my dogs and me
whistling turkeys
scolding nuthatch
twittering titmouse
cheeping chickadee
browsing deer
astonishment lingers
I am treasuring the
sweet sounds
of this heart
thrumming through
heartbreak
submerged
 in a flow
of wonder…
the kind of
awe that moves
mountains of stone
a raging body
waterlogged
by grief
 – how can it be
this heart
continues
to pulse
drumming
to Nature’s rhythm
while a
crimson soul
breaks open
over and over
keens
drowning
in losses
too deep?
Twin chambers
pulse in my breast
expanding contracting
as they continue
thrumming
Life’s Drum.
Trees, birds
dear friend
(you know who you are)
My Beloved
Healer
Thank You
All
With every heartbeat
my gift to you is
the promise of
Embodied Love.

Yesterday I listened to the sound of my own heart –  a strange kind of drumming that was interrupted by a whishing waterfall that reminded me of a slow – moving river cascading over a river of stones. My amazement overflowed; each one of us has this gift that sings of life until its work is done. I felt a fierce and tender visceral love for this muscle that I imagine as an anatomical heart from biology (eons ago) attached to a child’s heaped up heart that is also the Heartbeat of the Universe beating though me.

 On the way home from the hospital I wept for all the dead and dying trees being hauled away by logging trucks. Our mountains are bald and covered with the prickly fuzz of  weakened hardwoods struggling to survive in what’s left of the parched or flooded remains of barren ground so carelessly clawed by deadly machines. All roots destroyed. I have  watched each mountain rape, roared my disbelief, screamed rage through measured words, grappled with the knowing I could do nothing to change the trajectory we are on. Each time I leave my sanctuary, I relive my powerlessness. I can do nothing but witness and grieve – it is no wonder this heart is weary. How much of this ocean of grief can one organ take?

There is a primeval connection between the trees and me, so it wasn’t surprising that on the way home I felt assaulted by the number of trucks transporting dying tree bodies to their final resting place. No dead bodies to mourn. Shaped by man for his own use, twisted branches and limbs chipped to get rid of the mess.

Once a Tree Woman held the Earth in her hands…

________________________________________

For the past six months I have noted some unwelcome changes in my 79-year-old body.   A profound lack of  energy, shortness of breath, dizziness, nausea, increased severity of headaches, acute sensitivity to light,  intermittent shoulder/chest pain, a racing heart, insomnia and an increased sensitivity to polluted air eventually culminating in what the professionals distantly called ‘an event’ six months ago.

 Thanks to my Vet, the finest and most sensitive doctor I know who intervened on my behalf, I was eventually able to have the necessary testing done. (The local health center ignored my symptoms – older women are routinely dismissed – let them die).

Thanks to Gary I finally have an appointment with a cardiologist next week to see where I will go from here. His support has changed the trajectory I am on. This path might offer answers and perhaps some hope. I am profoundly grateful not to be alone.

Yesterday’s intimate encounter with my heart offered me the first glimpse of what it’s like to feel a deep emotional attachment to a muscle that has been supporting me for my entire life.

For a moment I was overcome by shame. How could I have been so insensitive to the physiological side of my own heart – centered self? Forgive me.

 I have been mindful of my eating habits, exercise regularly, am not overweight, so I never thought about heart damage when strange symptoms began to coalesce. I didn’t have any of the normal warning signs, although heart disease does run through my maternal line.

What I do know is that the experience I had yesterday was a great gift that I need to share. The magic and mystery of falling in love with my own heart has lifted me out of life’s grief at least temporarily. And for that I thank my heart and the parts of myself who loved me enough to make this love known not just on a personal level but as part of the process also re- attached me to every living being on earth.

May anyone who reads this story have a chance to feel the love that a pulsing muscle is capable of transmitting from self to self, and self to other, to earth. May you experience the gratitude I did and do.

I can’t help wondering… If we could feel the love emanating from our own hearts would kindness and caring for others follow?

Just a moment ago one of my little dogs threw herself against my reclining body. The serpent of life reclines at the base of my spine, but the heart feels what it knows.