A mockery of Democracy?

OK, I'm going out on a limb here but I've made a recent commitment to "listen to my heart" and share what it has to say. Today, my heart is aching for compassion, empathy and "right action," to borrow a term from a spiritual teacher of mine. Social media is a wonderful, open forum for conversation, humor and opinion. I also see that it's a powerful tool for political derision and division. I tend not to post much political content (although, I'm sure my leanings are obvious) because it strikes me that the anonymity of social media creates an environment in which intelligent political debate gives way to something more resembling a bunch of schoolyard bullies forming gangs for the fun of it. There's a sort of slash and burn quality to it.

My observation is that we feel powerful and smart and "right" when we clench our fists and raise our voices against politics and giddily smear politicians representing the "opposite side of the aisle" from our own political and philosophical biases. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," to quote Jerry Seinfeld, it's our constitutional right, after all. But here's what I'm wondering this morning ... are we doing more harm than good? Do we even have a clue what it takes to do the job of a congressman or senator, not to mention president? Could I or you stand up under the pressures of such a job? Think about it.

I am not suggesting a Pollyannish acceptance of what we perceive to be a dysfunctional political system. I am suggesting that we each resist the impulse to join a gang of political bullies simply for the pleasure of throwing our weight around.

A democracy can only be as effective as its informed citizens. Let's hold our feet to the fire where political and social commentary are concerned. Let's prioritize objective journalism over the circus-like cacophony of "entertainment news." Let's take our intellects back from the talking heads on TV who earn wa-a-a-a-y more than our political leaders.

We, Americans, are beyond fortunate to be living in this amazing country where we take for granted the right to speak our minds. Let's live up to the responsibility of our birthright as US citizens. Let's stop bullying each other. Let's stop adding to the mockery made of democracy. Let's think before we speak. Let's consider the possibility that everyone is "a little bit right" (as my spiritual teacher would say) and let's see what happens when we truly honor the democratic system established in this country by the courageous men and women of our founding.

Let's find a way to take "right action." If we honestly object to the work of politicians, let's walk a mile in their shoes. How about running for office or working for a local political leader? How about volunteering for a political campaign? A peaceful protest, perhaps? Or, here's a radical idea … let's learn everything we can about the democratic process. Let's make it our life's work to understand it and live by it. I know. It sounds hard, boring, not fun. I believe it's time we stop taking our "pursuit of happiness" for granted and learn more about the Constitutional ideal behind that pursuit.

We pledge allegiance in this country from the time that we are babes. For many of us, it's a rote monologue. I believe we should know what we're promising when we make that pledge. I believe it's of the utmost importance to take seriously our oath to uphold the ideal of "liberty and justice for ALL." That includes our politicians and their supporters. It includes those with whom we agree and those with whom we disagree. It even includes the bullies … but that doesn't mean we have to join their ranks.

You may say I'm a dreamer, but (hopefully) I'm not the only one. (I couldn't resist the nod to John Lennon, 50 years after he first stepped foot on American soil with the Beatles. Thank you, Beatles!)

If you made it all the way to this paragraph, thanks for listening to my heart. I really appreciate it. Have a beautiful day, my friend. 

Happy Heart Day!

Around the world, hearts are pulsing with love and affection today, openly, often kitschily but with a sweet sincerity that for a single day wraps the planet in a powerful heart-shaped embrace. Can you feel it?

As a recent heart attack survivor, this special day of big-heartedness holds greater meaning for me than ever. The iconic images of hearts and flowers instantly call to mind recuperating in Cardiac ICU. I remember how surreal it all felt for days afterward. I look back and recall my gradual awakening to the truth of my vulnerability. And, a mere two weeks later, every mention of the word "heart" has mine beating with a slight pang of apprehension followed by an ardent pulse of gratitude.

In my last post I spoke of some of the warnings of heart attack that often go unheeded, especially by women. One of my dear friends took my message to heart and decided a visit to her doctor was in order after suffering prolonged upper abdominal discomfort. Her doctor ordered an EKG and full blood work-up. Luckily, my friend discovered that her symptoms had nothing to do with her heart. Rather, it was determined that she had gall stones. Relieved, she returned home and researched "gall stones." She sent me an e-mail with the following quote from an Emergency Medical Technician:

"About 80% of our ‘heart attack’ calls were gallbladder attacks.  There can be shortness of breath, pain up or down the right arm, pressure or pain in one shoulder blade or the other, heartburn, heart palpitations.  You may experience pain or pressure beneath your sternum (breast bone). There may be nausea or even vomiting involved.  The pain can last a few minutes to several hours.  It does mirror a heart attack in many ways and only a professional can tell you which it might be. Don’t choose to do your own guess on this. If you have those types of symptoms, call 911. Better to be safe than sorry."

On this Valentine's Day I am so grateful that my friend's heart is healthy. I am happy that her healthy heart guided her to consult with her doctor. And while gall stones are nothing to celebrate, she was able to rule out heart disease and I think that's a wonderful Valentine's gift. 

Legend has it that St. Valentine was a martyr and a healer. Reportedly, Bishop Valentine after being condemned to death by Claudius II of Rome, restored the eyesight of the blind daughter of his jailer. It is said that prior to his execution he wrote a message to the daughter, signing it, "Your Valentine." (See Wikipedia, St. Valentine.) 

The true meaning of Valentine's Day, when taken in light of this legend, might be that our vulnerable hearts are capable of courageous and loving feats. We are 

all healers and love is our most potent remedy. When we open our hearts 

to one another miracles happen. My Valentine wish this year:

May we recognize the miracle of our beating hearts.

May we honor our hearts by caring deeply. 

May we find the courage to love openly.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Please help me to write what matters to you by offering a comment below.  Thank you!   ~ Namaste~

Please share

Repeat after me … 

My heart is perfect. My mind is open. My life is precious. 

Repeat twice more. Thank you.

I ask you to do this in honor of broken hearts of every kind, everywhere. My recent heart attack was just one variety of broken heart. It's funny how challenging it is to use the word "broken" in reference to one's anatomical heart. But, let's face it, when a part of your heart dies, either physically or emotionally, that constitutes a broken heart. In my mind, broken implies fixable. So, while my broken anatomical heart is on the mend I am listening carefully to the wisdom provided by my emotional heart. Today it whispered, "My heart is perfect. My mind is open. My life is precious. Share." Sharing is the topic of today's post because it can be ridiculously difficult, especially when it is most critical.

In my last post I shared my experience of having a heart attack. Those words, heart attack, still fall reluctantly from my fingers to the page. I hesitate to admit it but I am aware of a slight embarrassment about the whole thing. No need to go into why … it's probably self evident. In fact, I'll bet if you search your own heart you will easily find little embarrassments that you've most likely kept secret. But, here's the thing … it turns out that embarrassment can be a killer. When embarrassment keeps us from sharing critical information (such as, "I think I might be having a heart attack.") the result can be deadly.

Here's an excerpt of an e-mail from a dear friend who read my last blog post:

After I read your post, I was remembering twice when I went to the doctor because I thought I was having a heart attack.  The first time I woke up during the night with pain going down my arm.  Like you, I looked it up on the internet and tried not to wake my husband.  I stayed awake all night monitoring it.  I finally did wake him at 5:00 am and he told me it was just a pinched nerve and to go back to sleep.  He went back to sleep.  The doctor confirmed that it was indeed a pinched nerve.  The next time, I needed encouragement from a coworker to go to the doctor.  Turned out that time I had shingles which were along the nerve from the heart to my hand.  :)  It is embarrassing to be wrong about thinking you're having a heart attack.  I'm so glad you took yours seriously.  And, it does encourage me to again go for medical treatment when I think I'm having a heart attack even if I might be wrong, because I might be right.

Did you know that heart disease is the #1 killer of women age 20 and over in the United States? Are you surprised to learn that more women die of heart disease than all the cancers combined and that heart disease causes 1 in 3 women's deaths each year? How can it be? I'm guessing that it's a combination of factors but I can speak from my own experience that hesitancy about sharing (e.g., wishing to not bother or worry others; embarrassment; disbelief or denial) is a huge factor. The American Heart Association offers, "If you think you are having a heart attack wait no more than 5 minutes to seek help." Now, I'm not sure if it's true that more women are prone to hesitancy when it comes to sharing symptoms and seeking help. I'm not sure that it matters. The point is, male or female, young or old … 

sharing can save your precious life.   
Thank you for letting me share with you. Thank you for sharing with me and with each other. There is so much to learn about heart disease. Learning it and sharing it will save lives! I am so grateful to be living this precious life. I am so grateful to be able to open my mind to the facts about heart disease and to the subtle whisperings of my perfect heart. I can't encourage you enough to do the same, then tell two friends who will tell two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on … 

My beautiful daughter and mother are both sharing!

Please share your comments with me and others below. Thank you! ~ Namaste, Dee

My heart knows me better than I know myself

... so I'm gonna let it do all the talkin' ...

A very dear friend recently pointed out to me that this part of my e-mail signature (quoted from the song, Black Horse and the Cherry Tree by KT Tunstall) has taken on new meaning since my "cardiac event" last week. In the wee hours of Thursday morning, January 30th, I was awakened by my heart speaking to me in a language that I did not know to be Cardiac-ese. I had never encountered my heart speaking in such a tongue. I had no way of understanding that it was awakening me to the possibility of permanent damage to its fragile components. Since that morning, I've replayed countless times those precious moments and I've gained a knew understanding of the language of my heart. My heart, my precious communicative heart wants to do some talking and it broke through a very real language barrier that morning in the only way it had at its disposal.

My last post, entitled "Silence is Golden" was almost 2 years ago. Clearly, my heart has had enough silence. It is time to come back to the public arena and share those "inner whispers" of Divine Wisdom that inspired this blog to begin with. So, with a reverent bow, I will attempt in this post to translate the dialogue that arose between me and my heart on that auspicious morning.

Me: Z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z
My Heart (MH): Wake up.
Me: Huh? What? Ooooh, I feel weird.
MH: Wake up. You need to pay attention to me.
Me: This is strange. I feel as if my ribcage is filling up, like a balloon inflating. What did I ingest?
MH: Wake up. Sit up. You are in trouble.
Me: (sitting up) Whoah. My arms feel really weird, like there's an electric current running through them.
MH: That's right. Good. You're noticing.
Me: Wow, my arms feel kinda heavy. (I raise my arms overhead.)
MH: Yes! Yes! I've got your attention! Remember those articles you've read about heart attack symptoms in women and how they can be so different from the typical "elephant sitting on your chest feeling?"
Me: I must have had an anxiety dream. I'll just sit quietly and breathe for a few minutes and this weird feeling will go away.
MH: NO! I mean, yes, breathe and stay calm ... that's good, but don't stop there. Dial 911!
Me: (after several moments of calm, deep breathing) Strange. It's not going away and it's not getting worse. Maybe if I go back to sleep ... (reclining)
MH: NO!!! Jeez! Dial 911! Do I have to spell it out for you?
Me: Bizarre! I can't go back to sleep and this weird feeling is just sustaining. (sitting up)
MH: Yes! Great! Now reach for your phone and dial 911!
Me: I seem to remember something about heart attack symptoms in women being weird and easy to overlook.
MH: Now we're getting somewhere! Dial 911.
Me: (reaching for my laptop) Let's see, Google, "heart attack symptoms in women."
MH: Oh, no! Not research. Not now! Dial 911.
Me: (having found info.) Wow. I could be having a heart attack.
MH: Yes! Yes! Atta girl! Call for help! NOW!!!
Me: No. It simply isn't possible. I'm fit. I eat right. I manage my stress. I don't have high cholesterol or high blood pressure. Life is good. Oh, wait ... here's something that talks about estrogen levels and a narrowing of arteries after menopause. I'd better research the best cardiac hospital in the area.
MH: Are you kidding? (My heart sends a good, strong ZAP to my arms.)
Me: Yikes! What was that? Okay. This might be serious. What to do?
MH: Dial 911!!!
Me: Maybe I should dial 911. No, that would scare the bejeezus out of my mom. If she saw an ambulance drive up at 5:30 in the morning, she'd have a heart attack and die! I'd better call my daughter but it's 5:30. I should wait until 6:00 so I don't alarm her too much.
MH: This is ridiculous! Listen to me!!! Call your daughter if that's the only way you're going to get help but do it now!
Me: I'll wait and breathe calmly to see if this weird feeling goes away. If it's not gone by 6:00, I'll call.
MH: Sorry but you're asking for it ... ZAP!
Me: (my arms go mega-electric, I consider notifying Pepco.) Okay, time to locate the best cardiac hospital. (Another Google search yields bad news ... best cardiac hospital is probably over an hour away.) Okay, I guess I'll call my daughter. She has EMT training.
MH: At last. Lucky for you I am strong, healthy and patient. What a heart has to go through to be heard! It really should not be this difficult. There's got to be a better way!

So, long story short, my daughter came to my rescue. She took my blood pressure which was high for me at 150/90. She took my pulse which was weak. She drove me to the ER where I was admitted and prepped for surgery within 14 minutes. I meekly inquired of the ER team, "Am I having a heart attack?" "Chew on this aspirin ... yes," came the reply. One hour and a half later I was sitting up in bed in ICU, having undergone a successful angioplasty (the balloon procedure with which they widen a cardiac artery.) I was surrounded by loved ones. We laughed and hugged and felt very lucky.

Here's what my heart was telling me that morning, "You have a genetic predisposition for coronary heart disease. You were born with and have been living with abnormally narrow cardiac arteries. You've been good to yourself. You eat right. You exercise. You don't smoke. You manage your stress through yoga and meditation and all of that has served you well all these years. But, when it comes to listening to your heart, listening to me, you could do better."

Is it possible that my heart, itself, was drawn to the lyrics I chose over a year ago for my e-mail signature? Was it already talking ... trying to get me to listen? I like to consider the possibility that our organs are intelligent and communicative and creative. I teach and talk a lot about the importance of listening to our bodies. I'm grateful that I have a patient heart. I'm grateful that I eventually come around to listening, however imperfectly. I am grateful for the miraculous process of healing that makes up 100% of our bodies' 24-hour workdays. And I am grateful to my heart for awakening me. Now that my blocked artery has been cleared and my heart and I are on the mend, I will be listening more closely to everything it has to say. It's obvious from the dialogue above that "my heart knows me better than I know myself."

Stay tuned to this blog as I "let it do all the talking" on as many topics as it chooses.

Be well, everyone ... and listen to your hearts.  ~Namaste~