Relocating the Walnut

(of my heart)

6 weeks ago I broke my heart. It felt like my heart was rising out of my chest. Like my arms were rising up as well, leaving my body, and what remained was only a phantom. It was breathless adrenaline falling feeling. A lot like that space between being awake and being asleep. Every day since, I’ve experienced this sensation at least once or twice. Sometimes 3 or 4 times. As if my wingspan doesn’t exist anymore. In it’s place, just empty air.

I read the Wikipedia page about heartbreak one night while I was making a casserole. Heartbreak syndrome makes the heart beat differently. The language goes above my head. I figure I must somatically be going through something like this. The paragraph goes on to say that most people recover in about two months. Ok, only two more weeks then I’ll be fine.

I made a casserole with shiitake mushrooms, leeks, and beans. I covered this with blended steamed cauliflower, nutritional yeast, and walnuts. The recipe called for cashews but I put walnuts in it instead. See, I’ve been eating walnuts every day because they are apparently good for sadness. Walnuts, salmon, flax, dark leafy greens, dark chocolate. I read lists of these foods on websites like Web MD and then I eat them.

I put a raw walnut in my mouth as if it could be a remedy. Maybe today I’ll feel better. Maybe eating this walnut right now will fix me, bring my arms back to my body. I feel so silly when I have these thoughts. How could a walnut heal my heart?

All the walnut does is make my tongue kind of dry. I like the taste but it doesn’t make the day more bearable. It’s fatty, astringent, sculptural. I eat it and then I hope for the best and then nothing changes. I stand still in the kitchen and I eat a walnut and I look out the window.

The other day I picked up a walnut and really looked at it. Then I remembered that sometimes walnuts go in trail mix. Then I remembered that trails exist. Then I decided to hike up to the top of a mountain alone.

-

Hiking alone was a pretty bad idea because I recently injured my knee. I think I dislocated it a little bit by running too far one day. 6 miles in the rain.

So when I say I climbed a mountain, I really mean I limped up it. Just dragged my right leg along with me, up the path. I got to a look out and looked out. The beauty meant nothing, truly, the foliage did not move me, and I decided to immediately walk back down. Except right then I slipped on leaves, and yelped in pain, and fell onto my back. My knee buckled, red hot pain. I saw blue sky behind yellow leaves. I just lay there. After a few minutes of reclining on the slope, I called my friend Clark who said, you don’t sound like you are in pain, try moving. So I stood up, and all the pain was gone. It was as if I had relocated the joint, jostled it back into place by accident.

-

Delighted by my self-adjustment, I made a plan to hike every morning. I packed a jar with walnuts, goji berries, chocolate chips and salt. I put on socks and shoes and got going. I ate some of this trail mix while I drove to the mountain. The walnut was delicious, it melted in my mouth. Still, the sadness remained.

I parked and started walking. At the base, there was a woman carrying a baby. The baby waved at me and then I smiled. Genuinely and easily I smiled. Afternoon light came through yellow aspen leaves. My mind was silent for the beauty. Up and up and up. Only breath, only things to see. I got to the top. The top was all rock. Out of the tree line, the opening was warm. I relaxed in the sun, I sat down. When I stood up again, I was all turned around. Six paths converged, and I could not remember how to get back down.

So I picked a path at random. I figured, this trail is going down hill, it’ll get me down the mountain. I walked and walked and walked and walked for an hour maybe. Until it occurred to me that I was very lost.

I forgot that getting lost was a thing that can happen to you. I thought, oh wow, I am lost, I forgot this was possible. When I realized this, I realized also that I have been lost in a metaphorical sense for quite some time. It’s very easy to become a poet when you are lost. You might have thoughts like, whooah I’m lost. Or, am I wandering? Not all who wander are lost but I myself am lost. Oh dang I’m lost. And then, after all that monologuing, you might start to panic.

-

Is this becoming an adventure story? Is it getting a little out of hand? You like suspense and drama? Are you getting a little worried?

-

The day before when I was supine at the overlook, on the phone Clark said, you know there are rattlesnakes up there? But don’t worry, because you’d really have to go out of your way to find one.

His words were in my mind when I noticed I had really gone way, way far out of my way. The fallen leaves made the path impossible to see, in fact I wasn’t on a path at all. I thought, don’t summon a snake, don’t summon a snake. I repeated that prayer three times. But right then I lifted my foot and looked down, my foot mid-air. If I had taken that next step, I would have stepped on a big fat rattle snake, all curled in a knot, camouflaged by the leaves. I backed away slowly.

So texted Norma Jean:

What do you do when you are lost on top of a mountain?

and she replied:

Are you lost on top of a mountain?

-

I lay out on a moss-covered rock and contemplated what it means to be lost. All the beauty was entwined with fear. My fear was clear. Instead of thinking, I am here, I was thinking, how do I get out of here? A completely restless feeling, and nothing made sense. If I knew where I was, I could enjoy this place, I thought. But I don’t know where I am, so I must put my joy aside.

Norma called and said:

Stay where you are, I am coming to find you

Suppose I was panicking. I texted a friend who was 3,000 miles away. What do I dooooo, I begged. They responded - did you try going back the way you came?

This suggestion (unsurprisingly) annoyed me. Of course I tried that, of course I tried! But somehow, the clarity of this question illuminated the path. I found my way back to the overlook where I had fallen and fixed my knee.

Autumn leaves spread like a blanket. I lay down. Norma arrived. Quietly, there in the sun, Norma read me this poem by David Wagoner:

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When we got down from the mountain, we went to the farmer’s market. Clark was there selling vegetables. We told him everything. Norma exclaimed, I rescued her! Which was true, even though she found me where I had already found myself.

A few days later, Norma and Taggie were making honey pies. They invited me over for a slice. I told Taggie the whole story - the knee, the snake, the mountain, the walnut. Taggie just listened and we were having the best time. Norma shouted - I forgot to tell you! My teacher read that Lost poem that night in class! We all shrieked at the serendipity. The pie was salty, creamy, sweet. We danced to disco, it was early evening, on the porch, protected from the rain.

-

A walnut isn’t an instant cure. The fats will cumulatively help with brain health or whatever, that’s what I read online. But in my experience, a walnut can get you on a mountain.

Becoming intimate with loss makes the presence of those I love that much more precious. It’s all so vivid now, my friends laughing in the day time, in the night. The hugs, the aromas of what we cook, hearing stories of the days they’ve had. Listening to each other. I’ve located myself. I am with them. I am here in the constellation of how I love them, and how I am loved.

What I’m suggesting is that heartbreak might not be an injury the way I always assumed it was. It might be, actually, a shock of repair. A readjustment, relocating what was dislocated. Relocation and ease when you believe you must be lost. But you are never lost. Here’s my broken heart. I think it’s moment of acute pain that reorients the chronic humdrum of life when I’m not really living it.