Is it possible that I had to lose my hearing to learn how to hear? Perhaps my hearing was always so compromised that I never learned what it was to let my ears do their thing.
Now that I have hearing aids (and can hear virtually nothing but my dog’s loud barking without them) I marvel at the miracle of sound. They call it “sound therapy”. Something about creating new neural connections between the brain and sound. I can sense something different going on. It has to do with awareness. My ears are a way of awareness. Sound is a way of awareness. If I can let go of my constant commentary on what I am hearing and just hear what is there, there comes a new way of being here. An aliveness. A turning on. Hearing how things sound, apart from any meaning they might have. Just the resonance of air through wind pipes, or the vibrating of a string. The way that one sound follows another, following that.
How vital this is in connecting me to others and the world around all of us. It is a shared experience. There is a rhythm to it that I now can feel in my own heartbeat. The birds are tuned into it, and when I listen to the birds’ songs, I get tuned in as well. A common awareness.
waking up (if I might dare to suggest such a thing).
Susan Sontag (via ontheedgeofdarkness)
i don’t know my way around this territory.
i don’t know my way through it.
i am in lost land.
i am lost.
i can only wait to be found.
(by who or what, I have no idea.)
perhaps I won’t be found.
perhaps I will die, lost.
is that ok with me?
can I live in this lostness?
can I die in this lostness?
the many discordant themes
that play through my life
so that I can
stand up and walk
on my own
or 2nd guessing
by Denise Levertov
As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
the question is no longer:
what do I want from life?
rather, it is now:
what does life want from me?
clocks are annoying
this watching and measuring of time
leaves little room for getting lost
there is always something
a next thing to do
no wonder we can’t rest.
There’s a cutting edge that I’m up against now
that is chiseling me
as if out of stone.
I need to start writing again. Seriously.
Whether or not it is “good” writing, or ever read by anyone does not matter.
When I write I can capture the various energies in which I am immersed.
The waters swirling around me.
When I write I am somehow able to swim these waters.
Master them, use them, exult in them.
It’s a dance, isn’t it?
Whatever life I have left - and I don’t know if that is the right way to say things: “life being left”, sounds like the wrong way - anyway, from now on, I want my life to be BLISS. Prayer, if you will. A breath by breath dialogue with GOD. Miracle. Gift.
I know that other things will be there: sadness, maybe some pain, loneliness, disappointment, confusion, anxiety, fear. And that’s ok with me. I can carry those things. But the primary thread that I want to follow is that of the very bliss of being here, alive. The blessedness of breathing. Looking. Being. For however long that might last. I have a hunch that there is no END; blissful breathing (prayer) will lead me THROUGH.
A couple of days ago I wrote that I wanted a permanent tranquilizer. What I want is an underlying peace and calmness. Total acceptance of life and all that comes with it, even what looks like death. I want to know my place of belonging to the earth and all of creation, and know the miracle and gift of that situation and predicament.
I want a breath by breath dialogue with God. You give, I take. Feed me with who You are.
Seems like I’m somewhat coming out of my fog (or whatever it was/is). This sense of losing it. I’m falling down a hole. I’m scared, sad. No way I can put on a “face” of having it all together. I don’t have it all together. I’m falling apart. Every delusion/illusion I have about what life is all about is being shown to me as the farce that it is. I know nothing. I have nothing. I’m just here, and that is all I know.