Groove is in the Heart

“Labor without stopping; do all the good works you can, while you still have the time.” --St. John of God

The qigong instructor on YouTube closed his eyes and put his hands on his chest.

“I want you to feel your beating heart,” he said. “Your heart is a perfect example of unconditional love. It beats for your entire life and asks for nothing in return.”

Oh, yes, after the last week, I am ever so grateful for my beating heart. This is Easter Sunday, and I am so happy to be celebrating this time of rebirth with my family.

I am a bit more positive about my future after seeing my cardiologist on Thursday. This was our first face-to-face meeting since I got the stent put in on 10 days ago.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A bit frightened, to be honest.”

“Why? You’re the healthiest man in this room,” he told me. “At least we know what kind of shape your heart is in.”

His assistant had given me an electrocardiogram, which my doctor said, “looked beautiful,” and he told I can start going back to the gym this week.

Being a good Catholic boy, of course, I had to find some way of blaming myself for this situation. I asked my doctor if my anger and hostility were responsible for this blockage in my heart.

However, he would not oblige me, as he is a man of science and not my fifth-grade nun. He assured me that I had not done this to myself, but he acknowledged that these toxic emotions are factors in heart disease.

Okay, that gives me something to work with.

My father told me dozens of times over the years that while you can’t control the stuff life throws at you, you can control your reactions to them.

Did I listen to him? Of course not.

Did I follow the similar words of wisdom in the barrage of bromides that I have repeatedly posted on Facebook and Instagram? Hell, no.

Turn on Your Heartlight

I think of some of my favorite actors from Hollywood’s Golden Age and how so many of them died in the early sixties—or younger--from smoking-related ailments, like lung cancer, emphysema and heart disease.

I used to shake my head and think, how sad that these talented people had this terrible addiction. Now I realize that hostility is my addiction, my nicotine, so to speak, and that it’s shortening my life. And I really want to get a handle on it.

I know that I can’t terrify myself into happiness, so fear of doing something awful to myself is not the way to go. It’ll only make things worse.

Instead, I’m reminding myself how good it feels when I don’t blow my stack, and how I can find solutions to problems without skyrocketing my blood pressure.

And, most importantly, how the people around me—like my family—are better off without my temper tantrums.

“I avoid confrontation,” my doctor said. “I stay away from people who give me a hard time.”

That can be challenging in this dreadfully overheated society, but the least I can do is try to keep calm until I’m in the clear.

And, good Catholic boy that I am, I went on Amazon and bought myself a medal honoring St. John of God, the patron saint of heart disease. It arrived on Good Friday, and I am wearing it right now.

Sneer if you want, but I feel much better with this chain around my neck. When I start getting stressed, I put my hand to my heart, touch that oval-shaped piece of metal and I start to relax.

I know this is Easter, but scenes from Christmas movies have been coming to my mind. I’m recalling “It’s a Wonderful Life,” where James Stewart is happily running through the snow-covered streets of Bedford Falls after getting his life back.

Or “A Christmas Carol,” where Alastair Sim as Ebeneezer Scrooge wails like a lunatic when he sees his own tombstone and grovels before The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

“I’m not the man I was,” he whines, “I’m not the man I was!”

And neither am I.