One-Year Anniversary Since My Heart Attack

Le chevalier de la mort, Valère Bernard (1860-1937)

“Death is not the worst thing that can happen to man.” ~ Plato [1]

One year on since my heart attack, I like to think I’ve been using my extra time wisely. First and foremost I continue to pray and meditate daily and attend the Traditional Latin Mass as often as I can. True to my word, I still keep the doctors and hospital staff in my prayers as well as the private vows I made to Our Lady of the Assumption and San Rocco di Montpellier for graces received. Also as best I can, I’ve been trying not to take the little things in life for granted or get upset over things I have no control over.

Among my biggest regrets in life [2] was not spending enough time with my dearly departed ancestors, so I’ve been trying to spend as much quality time as possible with my remaining loved ones. Looking to learn as much as I can from our elders in the hopes of passing on our family’s lore to the next generation, this is sadly proving to be more difficult than expected due to the poor memories of some and the apathy of others.

The brown scapular

Not to sound too ungrateful (or morbid), but I have to admit there is a small part of me who wishes I did not make it that night. I attended Mass and went to confession earlier that day and, as always, I was wearing my scapular. [3] Not to presume God’s mercy or downplay my sinful nature, I’m not sure I had a better chance for purgatory up to that point. I hope I don't come off as cowardly, but eternal salvation sounds better to me than a few extra years of life fraught with potential pitfalls, i.e., sins.

More selfishly, I also don’t look forward to growing old and sodded without children. To be clear, I don’t have a death wish and suicide is not an option, but I don’t want to spend my dotage in an old folks home with a bunch of strangers. Let’s be honest, I have no faith in the managerial state and our low-trust society leaves a heck of a lot to be desired. God willing, I won’t be a burden on anyone or have to rely on anybody else. Ideally, I will die fighting for what I believe in.

A friend jokingly assured me that New York City’s violent criminal class may be a blessing in disguise. The perverse irony is that the Left's soft-on-crime policies I despise so much will likely get me killed by a recidivist before I’m bedridden. As you can imagine, the prospect of getting brutally murdered by some low-life scum does not put me at ease. Besides, with my luck the bastard would botch the job and leave me horribly injured instead, but I digress.

Somewhere along the line, I strayed from the path and shamefully turned fat and soft. In order to right the ship, I've committed myself to recommencing my youthful asceticism and, for lack of a better term, Untergang or "down-going" lifestyle, as prescribed by Zarathustra. [4] I’m not sure if I had a change of heart (pun intended) or I’m just feeling better after the operation, but I do feel a lot like my old self again—at least mentally. Consequently, I find myself returning to many of my old intellectual and aesthetic interests, such as books, art, music, poetry, and even women. Considering my penchant for the wrong sort of woman, the last one may not be a good thing.

I was not raised to expect to be happy, it is not an entitlement. I was taught to survive and fulfill my duties. If I found happiness along the way, it was a bonus. Ironically, not expecting to be happy allowed me to find happiness in ways that I would not have if I had obsessed over it.

Ex-voto offering

It’s hard to imagine now, but there was once a time I never thought I would live to see thirty. What a different world we lived in. Promised nothing, pain, hardship, and death were accepted as normal and inevitable, if not indispensable, parts of our lives. Faith, family, and community were everything. Effete, modern secular sensibilities cannot comprehend this, but I never felt more alive than I did back then—that is until now. Faced with mortality again, I am reminded of what is really important.

Funny enough, some presume that I’m burned out because a few of my priorities have changed. In reality, I’ve never felt more committed to our cause. Focussing all my attention on meaningful religious, social, and cultural pursuits, I’ve embraced Jack London’s credo: “The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.” [5] Doing my best to spurn the dead-end political clown show driving mass man insane and other inconsequential materialist things, I'm able to focus my attention on living my life to the fullest, carrying out my duty, and sacrificing myself for a higher purpose (altar and throne). The hardest part is resisting the temptations of an easy life (comfort and security), breaking bad habits, and expunging negative people from my life.

Barring any complications or new issues, I have no desire to talk about my heart anymore, except maybe metaphorically or romantically. Seeing as I don't like to kiss and tell, the latter is improbable. While I understand and appreciate everyone's support and well-wishes, it's old news now and I feel better. Don't get me wrong, in the beginning, with all the uncertainties, it meant the world to me, but now I find it wearisome. Besides I have much greater spiritual concerns to deal with. I said my piece, now it's time to move forward and—with the aid of the saints, angels, and Blessed Virgin Mary—wage spiritual war for the Social Kingship of Christ.

Madonna dell’Assunta, ora pro nobis. San Rocco di Montpellier, ora pro nobis. Cor Jesu sacratissimum, miserere nobis.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 14th, Feast of Sant'Antonio Primaldo and the Eight Hundred Martyrs of Otranto

Notes
[1] Often attributed to Plato, at the time of publication I cannot find the source of this quote. The sentiment, however, can be found in his Phaedo and Apologies.
[2] For the record, my biggest regret was not starting a family of my own.
[3] “Whosoever dies in this garment shall not suffer eternal fire.” ~ the promise Our Lady of Mt. Carmel made to St. Simon Stock on July 16, 1251. According to the Sabbatine Privilege the Blessed Virgin Mary vowed to save those who wear the brown scapular from the fires of Hell and shorten their stay in purgatory, on the condition that they wear the scapular continuously, observe chastity according to their state in life (married/single), and recite the Little Office or observe the fasts of the Church or with the permission of a priest, say five decades of the Holy Rosary.
[4] Thus Spake Zarathustra, 1883-1885, Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)
[5] “I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.” Quoted in the introduction of Jack London’s Tales of Adventure Illustrated, edited by Irving Shepard, Doubleday & Co., Inc., 1956, p. vii.