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Tales from the Red Couch

The Heart of a Miracle

by Hillary Gauvreau B.A. ACBT

“When you’re not trying to make the heart into something proper, it showers you with its magic, and even in the midst of pain it can offer moments of rapture.”     Thomas Moore

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Last Wednesday I got a call that my father had been admitted to the ICU in serious condition. “You better get up here” my brother said.  “Up here” is Schenectady, New York, my hometown and a three hour drive from Connecticut. Tears flowed as I threw a few essentials into a bag and ran out the door.  That was three days ago. Today he is out of the ICU, and in a regular hospital room, improving with each day that passes.

I was surprised by the text message my brother sent me: “I think you brought some of your mystic healing energy with you”. Could that be true? All I was capable of doing in the ICU, was to hold my father in the field of my heart. When healing happens, out of the expected ordinary reality, is it a miracle?  Is it possible to know the mechanics of a miracle or must it forever remain a mystery?

My father was diagnosed with Churg-Strauss Syndrome back in 1989. The fact that he is still alive and kicking, when they told him he would probably have five years, is a credit to his stubbornness and indomitable spirit. “Churg”, as we call it in our family, is a nasty bedfellow. Also known as "allergic granulomatosis" it is a medium and small vessel autoimmune vasculitis, that leads to the death of cells in the blood vessels of the lungs, gastrointestinal system, and peripheral nerves, but also affects the heart, skin and kidneys. It is a rare disease that is non-inheritable, and non-transmissible.  It begins as a severe type of asthma.   My father would cough until he gagged and gasped for breath. Doctors didn’t know what it was and treated him for allergies and traditional asthma. Finally, in desperation he and my stepmother trekked to the Mayo Clinic where Churg-Strauss entered into our vocabulary and lives. It is a chronic, progressive, debilitating disease and my father has lived with it for over twenty years.    He is now 85 and it is obvious he is weary of dealing with symptoms, the myriad of medications, and the frequent hospital stays required to keep him alive when his oxygen levels plummet or a new respiratory infection complicates his life.  

That is what happened on Wednesday. He had been in the hospital convalescent unit for over a month and was about to go home when pneumonia hit him fast and hard. After many hours in the emergency room he was admitted to the ICU and the doctors wanted to intubate him, a procedure that would involve inserting a tube into his trachea so he could breathe.   My stepmother was opposed, believing he would not want that. My father was alert at that time and he also refused. The doctor told my father to look his wife in the eyes and tell her he did not want this life saving procedure. He did.  So this was the critical situation I was heading into. I wrestled with my feelings of not wanting to lose my father, while also feeling compassion for his situation. I was preparing to say good-bye, because every logical indication was that he was going to die soon.   I drove directly to Ellis Hospital and literally ran through the front doors to the information desk with tears welling in my eyes. The woman at the desk directed me down the hall. I walked into a quiet, pleasant waiting area and saw my family spread out across the room. Relief at seeing them caused more tears to flow as they held my hand and filled me in on his condition.   

When ready, tissues in hand, my stepmother and I headed beyond the locked door of the ICU to my father’s room. He was sleeping, not responsive to our tender kisses on his cool forehead and our murmured greeting.   Intravenous lines stuck into purple bruises on the back of his hand, monitors beeped and flashed, and the BiPAP mask forced pure oxygen into his lungs.    There was nothing we could do. We stayed there, drifting in and out of the room, until evening. Exhausted and hungry we headed home, cell phones clutched in hand, alert to news from the hospital.   

That night as I lay in one of the twin beds we used as kids, I thought about all the memorable times with my father, good and bad, and my heart swelled with love and ached with grief. I brought my focus and intention into meditation, and the field of the heart came into my mind.    

The heart is an amazing organ that is much more than a mechanical pump. It is also an emotional center, and represents the center of being both physical and spiritual…it is a source of wisdom and a center of compassion. When there is emotional loss, it is the heart that literally aches. The electromagnetic field of the heart is 5000 times greater than that of the brain and is the strongest field of any organ in the body. The  diagram shows the toroidal, or donut shape, of the heart field that extends outward 10 feet from the body, creating a vortex of energy. Accessing the field of the heart has amazing potential for healing and creativity. Richard Bartlett DC, ND writes that “From the point of the heart…you can potentially master all time and space.” (pg. 159 The Physics of Miracles © 2009). Some say there is a secret place in the center of the heart that is the doorway to the zero point field, a place of infinite creativity and possibility. Surgeons know there is a tiny spot deep within the heart that if touched, instantly stops the heart. The Heartmath Institute’s cutting edge research on the heart field has found that people can be trained to create a state of coherency, or synchronization, between the fields of the heart and the brain. This coherency creates relaxation and revitalization at the same time, which reduces stress, quiets inner dialog, and creates space for intuitive insight and creative solutions. Remembering that, I did what I knew would get me to that feeling of coherence. I dropped my awareness down into my heart, and slowed my breathing. I did not ask for healing, I didn’t ask for anything. I simply held my father in the toroidal field of my heart until I drifted into sleep.

The next morning, when I arrived at the ICU, my father was alert, sitting up, wearing his glasses and talking with visitors. He was weak but greatly improved. The relief in the family was palpable and we all started breathing again. The following day, as I sat alone with my father in his room, I consciously held him in my heart field. No fixing, no techniques, just the awareness that we were sitting in each other’s heart field. He was sleeping, so I enjoyed the peace and connection within that space of heart. The doctor came in and professed to be amazed at my father’s recovery. He said he was strong and brave and shaking his head in amazement. The hospital made plans to move him out of ICU.  I silently thanked God, the skilled staff of the ICU and the miracle of antibiotics knocking out the pneumonia.  It didn’t really hit me what a miraculous occurrence this was, or that what I did may have played a role, until the text message from my brother. “I think you brought some of your mystic healing energy with you!”  Pops had gone from a grave condition to leaving the ICU in a little over a day!

My sister, a nurse practitioner, is also totally amazed but no one is more amazed than I am. How is this possible? Is this a result of the power of holding someone in the heart field?  Can it contribute to such a miracle? I am certain that the hospital staff, the technology, the love of family and my father’s tenacious spirit are also extremely important elements in this healing. I was motivated by the love I have for my father. What if love and a simple process of conscious heart field awareness with positive intention could support a miracle? Years ago, Paul Pearsall, psychoneuroimmunologist, author and teacher, was dying in agony from cancer in his hip. As he lay in his hospital bed, his wife leaned over to hug him. Tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin into his eye. In that moment he felt love like never before and something happened. He experienced a “miraculous” spontaneous remission of his cancer that changed his life and how he perceived the heart, love and healing.  I am curious, humbled, and awed. I don’t know what will happen with my father from here but we are fortunate to have him around a while longer. I am grateful for my own loving heart and to have had this experience and will continue working with it. I may never know exactly what happened but I am convinced that our dear hearts had a lot to do with it.

Please contact me  at hillary@healingcem.com  if you are interested in learning more or would like to attend a workshop exploring this subject.