By
John
Warwick Arden
FIRST DRAFT
April 30, 2013
©
John Warwick Arden
9 King George
Parade,
Portland Vic 3305
It
starts with a miracle.
The
heart.
Most
people don’t even think about the heart- until it gives up on them.
And
then they PANIC, rather than think.
‘OMG.
I almost died.’
And it
usually only gives up on us…
if we
have given up on it.
Or not
noticed it to a sufficient degree.
A heart
attack is the heart’s way of saying ‘pay attention’.
‘I
need you to notice me’.
I
notice it- every day, and every moment of the day.
What a
miracle.
How did
I come to notice the heart with such appreciation?
Did I
have a heart attack?
No. I
have never had a heart attack.
My
heart NEVER took umbrage with me.
If
anything…I took umbrage with it.
But
that’s another story.
For
now…I appreciate my heart.
With
every fibre of my being.
It is
indeed a miracle.
In
every sense and definition of the word.
Think
about it; this thing pumps away cheerfully-
or not
so cheerfully, depending upon how well you treat it- as if by magic.
How
does it pump?
What
causes it to keep going, day in, day out?
What
started it?
What
was the key to the ignition of the heart?
I have
no idea.
That’s
the mystery, the magic and the miracle.
It
seems strange to me now, that I spent so much of my life scarcely
noticing what I had beating away inside my chest…until…
Well,
suffice it to say we don’t know what we’ve got until it’s gone.
Although
even that is arguable- because I can only assume that once we are
gone-
we no
longer notice ANYTHING.
Because
we are dead.
Because
the heart has stopped beating.
Wow.
What a concept.
What a
fragile concept.
What a
slender tether we have that keeps us attached (or not) to our
existence.
And the
more one thinks about this concept- the more miraculous it seems.
For
some reason, most people don’t think about this until they get
older, more aware of their mortality, the fragility of life, closer
to death…
Generally
speaking, it’s not a young man’s game.
In
youth, we assume we will live forever.
This
makes the security and certainty of our existence somewhat mundane.
We are
almost too cool to notice the miracle…
Or
maybe even too distracted by this seemingly endless, bountiful supply
of life…
We
cannot possibly grasp that it would ever cease to be there for us.
It is
only later in life…or when one has suffered a wakeup call
unreasonably early…like an unexpected early start rubs our nose in
the reality…
That we
are forced to think about it.
Some
people go their entire life without contemplating the miracle.
Not
even once.
Some
are anaesthetised to it forever.
They
are cursed- or blessed- without the gift of realisation.
They
will NEVER know what we know.
There
are those who advise against thinking too much about this.
If you
are not careful, you can be paralysed by the miracle, and never do
anything.
Gripped
by fear.
Or
wonder.
You can
be so enamoured, so enraptured- you can forget to live.
Most
people advise that it is best to simply live with the miracle, and
get on with life.
It’s
too late for me; I noticed the gift of life.
And now
I find it hard to think about anything else.
I had
to find a way to reconcile myself with the miracle.
So
enamoured of it was I…
Like a
man in love with a beautiful woman…
so in
love…
He
ceases to be able to function.
He
thinks of nothing else but the beauty of that woman.
I think
of the miracle of my life, and find it hard to act any other way but
to honour that miracle.
My life
now is a sacrament to the beauty and wonder of the gift of existence.
It’s
about gratitude.
Not
everyone knows how to be grateful.
It’s
a challenge certainly.
I
understand that.
There
have been times in my life where I have been ungrateful.
It has
been all about what I DON’T have, rather than what I DO.
And the
way people have HURT me, rather than all the things they have DONE
for me.
This is
coming from a place of profound scarcity.
When
nothing is ever good enough, and one is trapped in a prison of
desperation.
Always
striving, seeking, and yearning for something better.
Something
just over the horizon.
And it
can drive you insane.
This
perpetual quest for something indefinable-
that
probably doesn’t even exist.
Not
really.
Because
it is not about what you don’t have, exactly…
but
that vague indefinable sense of ‘absence’.
Something
being missing.
Something
that cannot be explained, or filled or fulfilled by…
ANYTHING.
And for
many people, this yen can never be satiated.
Until &
unless somehow, you are able to reach a state of grace, and
appreciate what a wonderful miracle the heart is.
What a
miracle LIFE is.
Easier
said than done. I know.
Sadly,
sometimes it takes A CRISIS to come into this state; and even then,
not everybody can be awakened to the reality of gratitude and simple
wealth.
Such a
deep sleep are we in- such zombies are we, trained to live a certain
way, slaves to an ideal largely imposed upon us by government and
social systems…even our peers…
That
the only true wealth is MONEY. POSSESSIONS. POWER. FAME.
I know
now that these are not as important as I imagined them to be.
They
are hardly any kind of wealth for the soul.
They
can enslave us, rather than liberate us.
Such
things can make it HARDER to let go…
And the
soul will never be liberated.
They
cause more suffering than joy…sooner or later.
I
appreciate simple wealth.
Simple
things.
The
best things in life are indeed free of charge- if one can only see
it.
When
the perception is cleansed.
We can
see that nature, people, family, friends, simple pleasures, health &
welfare…
These
are the only things of true lasting value.
I
appreciate this now.
I truly
understand the value of my own life.
If I
lost EVERYTHING I own, all the people in my life that I value…
I know
that if I still had my HEART…
I would
still be in with a fighting chance.
I would
still have LIFE- and contrary to popular belief…
LIFE IS
EVERYTHING.
Contrary
to the beliefs and ideology of the government, the corporations and
their handmaidens the military…
LIFE IS
A GIFT.
Everything
else of value (& even that whose value is dubious) is drawn
toward us purely by virtue of the fact that we are alive. Breathing.
Our heart BEATING.
And one
can either be GRATEFUL for this…miracle…
Or
churlish.
I am
reminded of the tale of the two children at Christmas time, both
given identical gifts.
One is
grateful and appreciative, and the other wilful and thankless.
The
moral being, which one are you more likely to give additional gifts
to??
I’m
not going to get into an examination of whether gratitude begets
personal gain, or attracts more wealth or not…
I
certainly cannot prove it, one way or the other.
&
in any event, this presupposes an EXPECTATION of reward in exchange
for gratitude- & this is very much missing the point.
When in
fact gratitude is its OWN REWARD.
GRATITUDE
is the gift.
I see
people around me in a state of constant yearning.
They
never have enough, or are working too hard, or…
They
wish they were dead.
I
understand this; I have been there.
Wishing
for death is the ultimate ingratitude.
I think
it is even more obvious in others BECAUSE I have been there.
It
seems more pronounced in them.
In
fact, my gratitude seems all the more valuable to me in the light of
their misery.
Even
and especially when they become angry at me.
Like I
have something they want, and it is not fair that I have it and they
don’t.
As if
somehow, I was given a special gift.
In a
way, of course, I have been given a special gift.
And the
heart of that gift is the ability to SEE the gift.
THAT is
the difference.
In the
darkness- they simply cannot see it.
The
fallacy is that THEY cannot have that gift.
Of
course they can; anyone can.
And
only someone like me- someone who has been lost in the caverns, the
labyrinthine tunnels of the darkness of perpetual loss and COME OUT-
can see this.
In the
dark forest- it is difficult to see. And yet now I am out of that
dark forest- it is my MEMORY of that darkness that lights my way.
For if
we did not have those dark moments…
How on
earth can we possibly see the light???
For
those fortunate enough to recover…
the
light seems so obvious to me.
I
wonder how others cannot see it.
I
sometimes allow myself the indulgence of wondering how it was so hard
for me to see; why I had to suffer to such an enormous degree to
finally GET IT.
But
that’s the deal; the suffering then is part of the joy now.
Just as
Anthony Hopkins said in ‘Shadowlands’, ‘the suffering now is
part of the joy then.
That’s
the deal’.
It can
go both ways.
I am
reminded of the dark forest, from time to time.
I walk
through a forest near my home every other day.
I walk,
because it helps me untangle my thoughts. I am able to deal with the
petty squabbles and insecurities of others I happen upon throughout
my day.
People
are so cruel to one another- and ESPECIALLY to themselves.
And
even though I live in a place of gratitude- this does not mean one
divorces oneself from the human race ENTIRELY.
And a
person of compassion cannot help but be affected by the battles other
people do with themselves and others.
I find
the accumulation of the negativity of others cannot help but play out
on my head; and the act of physical exertion helps me release it.
For, if
I am not careful, out of sheer habit, I can be tempted to become a
party to the human psychodrama once again.
People
in the eye of the storm of that drama WANT to involve others- to draw
them in.
Misery
loves company.
So I
walk, and as I walk, I let the bad energy bubble to the surface and
the sheer physical exertion drives that energy out of me. Don’t
ask me how it works.
Like
the heart. It just does.
So I
come home feeling clean again.
And
ready and able to start again.
With a
strong heart.
A heart
that WANTS to live. Each and every day.
I am
lucky, & blessed to have such a strong heart, that has endured so
much.
& I
mean this metaphorically AND literally.
It is
no wonder the symbol of the heart links the two concepts so
inextricably.
My
heart has proven itself strong enough to endure a great deal of pain-
AND it is strong when it comes to pure physical endurance.
When I
have finished my walk, I truly notice my heart.
I
cannot walk a level piece of path- I must have inclines. I need steep
hills to walk up, to give me that aerobic work I need- my HEART
needs- to get a good pump.
As I
rid myself of the toxins in my body through this exertion, I also rid
myself of the bad energy working away in my consciousness.
And at
the end of my walk, I note my heart rate.
It’s
not bad- it is usually around 175 beats per minutes, sustained for
around 70 minutes, which is vigorous enough for a man my age.
And my
resting heart rate is 60 beats per minute.
This is
pretty good.
I am
blessed with a very good heart.
And
this fact alone would be enough- but to KNOW this, and to be grateful
for it-
Is the
true MIRACLE.
BLOCKAGE
Would
that this feeling stayed with me…
This
sense of the miraculous; but sadly…
It
doesn’t.
..................................................................................................
©John Warwick Arden
2013
