Witnessing Silence

jesus-love-lightThe physical and emotional memories of the ear infections I got as a kid are now processing themselves.  It’s trauma and pain I’ve blocked out for most of my life, partly because those illnesses are a part of childhood, partly because I don’t want to remember what they were like.

But now, as an adult, after suffering through this season’s flu, I’m moving through a healing journey that is bringing up these old memories.

I don’t have a memory of my first ear infection, but I am sure if I did some deep bodywork, it might come up.  I remember all the ones that came after, because I knew what was in store for me:  Hours and hours of having terrible pain in my ears, loud and relentless sounds of the beating of my heart through my head.  The outside world would sound distant and far away.  I could hear sounds, but they were so muted.   I would feel locked in, alone and scared.  It was tough.  Each infection lasted days.  Mom helped, taking me to the doctor, getting the medications.  But the feeling of being shut out from the world, because I couldn’t hear, because I was in pain used to just bring me to a state of almost emotional detachment.  It was almost too much to bear each time.

Currently, I am left with a temporary hearing deficit at about 50 percent of what I normally hear following this recent illness.   The ear pain wasn’t as great as a before, but the silence that I am hearing is familiar territory.

Only now, with twenty plus years of a spiritual practice, the emotional detachment I am experiencing is actually a relief.

I could choose to grieve this loss or I can embrace it at part of a new experience.  I don’t know where it will lead, and I’m not fully recovered from my illness, so this all may resolve in a week’s time.  Or not.

I realize how much my senses have enabled me to navigate this reality.  Without full hearing, I have more freedom to actually move through the world.  I am spending less time having to interpret and figure out sounds, whether conscious or not.  There is a lot of noise in this world, I realize, and not being able to hear it all is quite peaceful.

I can hear people speaking  to me in person so that I can continue to do my work, to teach, to counsel, to assist.  Phone calls are harder.  The clarity of the voice is not there as it is in person.  Music is harder to tolerate because the note ranges are much flatter, and the familiar songs sound kind of ‘canned’ or ‘tinny’.  Live music seems better, the ability to ‘feel’ the sound helps me hear it better.

But I am newly walking in this more quiet world.  As I continue on this unexpected journey, I will be curious to see what other observations I witness and experience.

If you’ve had experience with an illness-induced hearing loss or any resources you think would be of assistance, please feel free to share.

Eileen Dey Wurst Copyright 2017

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The Happiness of Silence

342The kids are gone.   My house has an eerie quiet to it.  My cats are even unsure as to what’s occurred.

The stepchildren have returned to their home of Culiacan, Mexico where they live full-time with their mom, grandma, maid and assortment of relatives that have been assisting and shaping their upbringing.

There is silence and the house is a mess.  But tomorrow, my own ‘Merry Maids’ are coming to do deep cleaning.

For now, I’m in awe of the peace.  I’m teaching Reiki later today, at a yoga studio nearby, but before I go, I’m just giving myself permission to bask in this.

We did it.  Richard and I.  No maid.  No relatives.  No other help in facilitating a summer vacation for 3 teenagers and the occasional drop-in of his eldest son.

A small miracle.  And a slow return to the reality of a child-free life.  Going into this it was a transition, coming out of it, just as much.

They’ll return over Christmas, so many months lie ahead.

Happy in the silence.

Eileen Dey 2014

Embracing the sound of silence

I think I’m addicted to silence.  Or more accurately, the absence of persistent city noise. The noise between noise flows through my whole body the same way Reiki does and when I let myself flow into that noise it’s like a ‘happy’ drug flowing all the way through me.

Christmas Day is only one of those days in a city where everything goes really quiet.  Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day a close second.  I have just been soaking up this cocoon of silence like piling up pillows all around me.

So much easier to meditate.  The nervous system calms down.  The intuition is easier to hear.  This is a reason why the Reiki sanctuary, to me, is my sacred dwelling, and I miss it when I’m away for long stretches of time.

I’m also preparing in this quiet ‘before the storm’.  For the next week, the sanctuary will be filled with the activities of my partner’s children, playing about, enjoying the space and having friends come and go.

It feels like the house is also getting ready, expanding itself on some level to hold all that extra energy that will be living within it.

The sanctuary space is getting ready to ‘hold space’!

To accommodate everyone, I’ve relinquished my Reiki room for a week, bringing all my sacred objects into my own bedroom and surrounded by these familiar sights of my practice, my own aches and pains are seeming to dissipate.  I’m resting in my own treatment room!  Why didn’t I think of this before?!!!

To duplicate the silence in the midst of activity I do have a solution:  An incredible pair of noise cancelling headphones that with the click of a switch take out almost all extraneous noise.  I wear them a lot when I’m down in Los Angeles, on airplanes, and now, they will be my enclave for morning meditations.

But for now, without the headphones, without anyone in the sanctuary (yet), I embrace this silence from head to toe, swimming in the space between space and the molecules of Reiki that pass through.

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