My dear friend, Sam, wrote an interesting blog post earlier this week called 'Mantras.' Her blog post got me thinking (which is, I think, what all blog posts should strive to do), and ultimately it inspired the post you are reading right now.
Mantras originated as part of Hinduism (technically part of the Vedic tradition which I believe came earlier than Hinduism but parts of it were absorbed into Hinduism--including the use of mantras). A mantra is a word, phrase, or sound that one says repetitively in order to induce a kind of spiritual transformation. Yogis make frequent use of mantras. The "ohm" sound most of us associate with yoga is actually the pranava mantra. The pranava mantra is the way the word Aum sounds. "Ohm". This is literally the sound of creation. No wonder it is used to bring about spiritual transformation.
I never put much stock into mantras. I thought they were silly. That is until this year. Right before my 27th birthday I decided it was time to make some major life changes. I was about to be 27 years old and I was miserable. In addition to being in the worst health of my life and struggling daily with congestive heart failure, about which I was quite bitter, I was also unhappy with my career (or rather lack thereof).
I couldn't breathe (both literally and figuratively). I ached all the time, all over. The things the doctors were doing to me to keep me alive hurt and I simply did not appreciate their efforts to force life into my dying body, and it was dying. I was dying. My big plan to be a professor simply didn't pan out, nor did it make me happy. I did not like the ignoble political games I was forced to play in order to get ahead. I dropped out of my graduate program because I felt it was a waste of my time and energy. I began applying for management positions at museums. I always made it to the final round of interviews, but I never got the jobs. I didn't have a M.A. in Public History. Like I said, I was miserable.
Then 2 and a half weeks before my birthday I went to see my cardiologist. My health was worsening and because I have such a complex series of diagnoses standard treatment wasn't working. I also have something called "inappropriate sinus tachycardia". IST makes your heart beat too fast, but doctors don't know what causes it nor do they know how to treat it. Doctors also cannot agree on how dangerous this disorder is. My doctor thought it would eventually kill me given my congestive heart failure. So he proposed a radical plan to improve my health, a wholly experimental treatment. It would be dangerous. He wanted me to do aerobics. People with CHF are not supposed to do aerobics because aerobics can lead to cardiac arrest for patients with this condition, patients like me. But my doctor said, "I don't know if this will work. I do know it will be dangerous. But something has to change or nothing ever will. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I think this is a desperate time."
That's when my life changed. That moment. In that second I decided that I had to change in order to live. I applied for admission to the Public History program at my local college. I was accepted. I would get that M.A. employers wanted me to have. I took up walking. I puked. I hurt. I turned blue. I kept doing it. I thought "I can't do this." I read The Secret. I tried to engage in positive thinking. I decided that what I told myself about myself and what I was doing really mattered. So I started using mantras. Mantras, which I had previously thought of as silly things, became the very thing that kept me going.
As I walked I chanted "I am not going to die. I am not going to die. I am not going to die." Then I started jogging. Slowly. One minute at a time. Five minute walking breaks in between each one minute stretch. I decided I needed to shift my focus from death to life. So I started chanting "I am going to live. I am going to live. I am going to live." Then one day during a particularly difficult jog I had another realization. I puked my guts up in my neighbors yard and my lips and fingernails were blue. I was heaving for breath. I thought this is not living. I needed my body to be stronger. So the next day I started chanting "My body is strong. My body is strong. My body is strong."
Some days I tie on my running shoes and head out the door and my heartbeat won't regulate itself. It runs out of control, faster than it should, faster than my feet are carrying me. My chest is tight and it is hard to breathe. On these days I return to my earlier chant, "My body is strong. My body is strong. My body is strong." I might have to shorten my run on these days, but I always run. I always finish. My body is strong.
Other days my feet carry me faster than ever before and my heart beats at just the right pace and my lungs expand with air and I feel like I am flying. On these days I have a new mantra. I am living. I am living. I am living. I am living.
What you tell yourself matters.
Are you living?
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