My First Echocardiogram

“We’re going to take care of your heart today,” the practitioner said as he led me down the dark hall to the exam room. He was middle-aged, with grey hair and glasses. I wish I could have seen his full face instead of it being half-covered by a medical mask, but his eyes seemed kind enough. He asked if I had any questions, and I said no.

I was only there for preventative measures, and I was fairly certain everything would come back normal. But given my family history of heart issues, I wanted to be safe.

He led me to a dimly lit room with computers, an ultrasound machine, an exam table, and other medical equipment and explained the process. I was to undress from the waist up and put a gown on with the opening to the front, then lie on my left side on the table close to the edge.

Once settled on the table, the practitioner placed a towel over my breast area and then readied his machine to examine my heart. He squeezed gel onto the ultrasound wand and placed it on my rib cage to begin, and suddenly on the screen above him appeared a grey fuzzy image of my heart chambers, opening and closing in rhythm. I was fascinated to see the movement happening inside my body right at that moment. I gazed at the screen, entranced.

The practitioner worked quietly, creating lines on the screen to take measurements, then moving the wand to different places on my body to get different perspectives. Time stood still. I felt safe the entire time, yet vulnerable. I wasn’t used to having someone look so deeply into my body, especially to what felt like the core of my being. My heart continued to beat as it always had, yet now I could actually see the work it was doing to keep me alive and healthy. Those moments felt sacred.

When the practitioner finished, he explained the doctor would follow up with results, but assured me if he had seen anything alarming he wouldn’t be letting me leave. I got dressed and left.

I stopped by Starbucks for a warm drink, as a way of saying to my body “Thank you for being vulnerable today. Thank you for working hard to keep me alive and well.” I continued to feel a sense of vulnerability throughout the rest of the day, a sense of energy movement behind my sternum. It felt uncomfortable and emotional, so I did my best to meet that feeling with gentleness and compassion. I had a fresh awareness of respect for my body and the sacredness of it. And that felt like a beautiful thing.

Reflection: The Magic of Living

When I was a child I thought Christmas was magical. I couldn’t describe why, but I got a feeling inside when I heard Christmas music, looked at decorations, anticipated festivities. Sometimes even when it wasn’t Christmastime I remember getting emotional thinking about how much I loved Christmas.

As I grew older the magic dissolved, and for years I thought growing up meant being depressed with life and learning how to deal with it. Only after much processing and growing did some of that magic start to come back. I began to find a new, deeper feeling, and not just surrounding Christmas. It was the discovery that life is sacred. And really for me, sacredness is a more grown-up version of childhood magic. It’s the realization that something is important, worthwhile, beautiful, and finding joy or reverence in it.

I had a conversation with someone recently who told me about how he was working on doing more grounding, and I mentioned that I felt so much happier when I’m in the present.

There’s a road I have often traveled, either to go to class, to therapy appointments, or other events, and I realized tonight that that road is sacred to me. Usually when I’m driving that road I’m listening to music and admiring the fields or trees or fancy houses I pass. And usually it’s in anticipation of work I’m about to do or in processing what I’ve already done. I feel hopeful, positive, because I believe what I’m pursuing is worthwhile. And that road has been representative of a small part of my journey. That journey which is sacred, which therefore makes the road I travel sacred. And it’s beautiful.

Sacred and Sexy

When I think of the word sacred, my mind tends to shoot directly to those of religious status. Regardless of your spiritual beliefs, perhaps you would agree that those whom you see dressed in religious garb elicit a different response from you than that of your interactions with friends. I see a woman with her head covered or a man with a priest’s collar and I interact with them differently than I would with the average joe. Not in a discriminatory way, but such that I try to be respectful of their traditions, whatever they may be.

On the other hand, many religious organizations in Western culture have become much more casual in the last century, even in the last decade. When I was a little girl, I saw lots of people dressing up to go to church on Sundays. Now, churches encourage people to wear jeans and t-shirts, promoting a “come as you are” vibe.

Neither of these are necessarily bad. Because how one dresses is a very concrete idea, it seems convenient to draw on that example of how the idea of sacredness has changed in our culture. Of course one can receive and give and participate in sacred experiences regardless of what he or she is wearing. I am not trying to bash people based on their clothing choices.

What I am trying to say is that Western culture’s idea of sacredness has dramatically diminished. Men used to take off their hats in the presence of a woman. Women used to avoid revealing their knees in public. While I am glad dress codes have become much more relaxed, what does the word sacred even mean anymore?

I have thought about joining a nudist community because I love the human body, and I love my body. But at the same time, I believe the human body is sacred, so I hesitate to reveal my entire body to the general public.

I believe sex can be a sacred act in the sense that it is one of the most intimate expressions of love one can give another.

I believe health is sacred because it is as we are pursuing our own personal wellness that we can be the most giving and helpful to others.

I believe we can be sacred and sexy at the same time. I’m just not completely sure how yet.