This post is about stumbling across my heart.

Growing older, like living at any point in life, is kind of chess for me. It is never static, it is not predictable, the spiritual life calls us to accept change and challenge with grace. The test of character for me, is now how I live when everything is going the way I want it, but how I live when it is not, which is much of the time.

Gracious Acceptance.

Some of the most miserable wretches I know seem to have everything, but the cost of everything can often be the highest cost. Life, as the great painter said, is what you make of it.

The last few weeks have been dominated by news of my heart, I’ve referred to it a few times, but if one is to be open, then one is to be open about important things, especially the heart. Three years ago, I had Open Heart Surgery, and in those three years, I have not been required to think much about my heart, other than to keep it moving.

It’s time to think about my heart once more.

Over the past month or so I’ve noticed a pressure and pain in my chest when I walk up a steep hill, it was vaguely reminiscent of the pain I felt before my open  heart surgery. I did the usual male rationalizing and denial, but only for a week or so. I called the cardiologist, who has examined me as recently as August, he suggested some intensive, week-long tests at the Southwestern Medical Center in Bennington, where he practices.

I had echocardiograms, nuclear scans, (radioactive stuff pumped into my veins) digital camera imaging of my heart, a good look.

At the end, I met with my doctor and he said the issue was that not enough good, high-oxygen blood was reaching a part of my heart, including some important parts. Might be a block, might be something else, but it appeared to be stable angina, a heart condition associated with coronary heart disease, which I already have.

He was optimistic and a little vague, but he said I did not need to rest, I needed to live my life. I don’t care to be around people who tell me to rest.

This kind of angina is not curable, but it is treatable, and I can live normally, and well into the future. Sometimes you really know when you have it, most of the time you don’t think about it.

In my daily reading of the Kabbalah, I read about Stumbling, a mystical state of spiritual discovery I know very well.

“Whoever delves into mysticism,” says the Kabbalah, “cannot help but stumble,  as it is written: “This stumbling block is in your hand.” You cannot grasp these important things unless you stumble over them.

That is very much the story of my life. Some people plan every inch of their lives, some people stumble through.

The good news is that my heartbeat, blood pressure etc. are good and unless I strain myself in a particular way (and my heart rate is very good), I can do everything I normally do – walk, shovel snow, lift things, race around like a mad fool. Once in a while I will feel pressure and pain, sometimes considerable pressure and pain.

Can I walk up hills?, I asked the doctor.

Sure, he said, “but don’t torture your heart,” he said somewhat cryptically. I’m not sure what the means, but I imagine I will know quickly once I’m doing it.

The worst I felt was on Thanksgiving evening when I foolishly drank several glasses of Johnny Walker Black, which I used to put down by the bottle. The pain was intense, and I was woody and felt pressure in my chess.  Alcohol is not good for circulation. After a few minutes, it was gone and I realized Scotch doesn’t go well with stable angina. Lesson learned.

So I have some new medication to take every day and some for discomfort. If they don’t work, then I am to yell for help. The condition is not treatable, and while I am fine, the odds are I won’t have to worry about living to be 100. I will and should be living a good long time. I do feel special, even a bit heroic. I imagine myself writing great works, punctuated by long and gentle walks. Not bad.

I am already reminding Maria that I need to be treated gently and sensitively, she has already decided I can shove it.

My heart is important to me, it is the repository of my soul, and if anything takes me away, it ought to be the heart. I am not planning on leaving Maria, the farm, my writing, the animals, my pictures anytime soon and the cardiologist imagines I will be here for a good while.

Walking is also important to me, it is my sport and meditation, the thing I do to get my head back on straight when it spins around. I respect and love my heart, there is a part of me that feels some sadness about this turn, it is a kind of landmark, I realize. I will continue to walk, but have to think about it in a different way.

I just will have to take it easy and take my pills, rest and meditate, write up a storm, take better photos, love Maria even more,  ponder the animals and life in the country, and go about my business. I admit to a momentary sag when I heard a part of my heart was not working, but I am full of love, excitement and purpose these days, so I guess it is working.

I am resolved to get the new portrait lens I have been eyeing for the color camera and some back and white work. Nothing is better for my heart than taking good photographs.

My funk has come and gone. I am learning and listening, figuring out what I can do and can’t do, reassured that I am doing everything I was doing, except charging up a steep hill for miles. I think that is over. Some things I have to take a bit more slowly. I’ve made most of the good lifestyles moves – good nutrition, daily exercise, but I still have some spiritual work to do, which is also helpful to the heart.

Maria is a wonderful person to be walking alongside of me, she stops if I stop, she is figuring all of this out alongside of me. It isn’t a good thing that my heart isn’t quite getting what it needs all of the time, but it isn’t the worst thing either. It can be deal with. Almost every one of my favorite writers has had heart trouble to one degree or another, invariably worse than mine, and for long periods.

I just have to get my head around it.

That small vial of nitro pills is kind of exotic, I haven’t needn’t one yet.

So I am  stumbling towards acceptance. This is not a straight line.

Every good and important thing I have or know is something I have stumbled over – Maria, writing, photography, my farm, my daughter, my granddaughter. Nothing good has really come to me through careful planning or conscious discovery. I am learning to let life happen to me, and to make good use of everything that happens to me.

I have rich and hungry heart, it will not fail me, and when it does decide, it will let me go with peace and dignity. That is my faith, another good thing I have stumbled across.