shedding layers

After the heart attack it felt as if everthing was happening ‘over there,’ away from me. I’m living in a bubble, I explained, like James Joyces’ Mr. Duffy who ‘lived several feet from his body.’

I watched and witnesses, day by day. Didn’t feel depressed (and I do know the symptoms), enjoyed being alone, reading lots, going to the gym, sleeping whenever I wanted to, relieved to see blanks spaces on the calendar. Maybe it’s the nine meds you’re taking, messing with your head, or some sort of denial — or simply digesting a heart attack at 72.  I didn’t know and that was, oh great delight, ok with me.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

(Antonio Machado, 1875-1939)

A couple of days ago, walking downtown, ‘in my body’ after the morning’s cardio workout. Waiting for the light to change, my Zen teacher’s voice came through the internal speakers: “Welcome your brokenness!” Bingo! Tears instantly, diamonds in the winter sun. Traffic lights going green and red and green again, still standing at the curb, in that one moment. A brush with death, maybe; alive right now, apparently.

With a deep bow of gratitude.

p.s. I’ve decided to cut back on volunteering even further, just keeping the two where Dachshund and I visit cancer and geriatric people. I’ll miss the other gigs, you kind people welcomed me/us week after week: May you be happy — and cherish this next breath.

image credit: http://sharonereed.me/2015/10/08/shedding-skin/