Happiness and music for me go hand in hand.
A day without ( to name a few daily rituals) Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, Kite, In a Little While, Strawberry Swing, Saint Agnes and the Burning Train and all the BA songs would be a day without light.
I swear and proudly state that I could not go a day without the sound of music.
I've often thought to myself ( while staring at myself on the subway)* could I ever be without my hearing?
Well, 6 months ago I was very close to that reality.
Long story short:
Bad cold ( I don't get sick often, for my faithful readers of 3 days, my cold on day 2 is now over)
Didn't stay home, swam daily for 4 days straight in the ocean. Nothing like the salt on your skin to make you feel like you're in Blue Lagoon, I being Brooke Sheilds, long thick chestnut hair, capri blue eyes etc etc ( that *****)
So I swam...and upon my return home spent 2 hours with my head between my legs in agony with the worst pain ever.
I'm no sissy! Honestly, maybe a little sissy, but by no means a sissy sissy.
So we all get it, lots of pain, horrible horrible horrible pain....and the loss of hearing.
2 complete weeks, 24 hrs a day of nothing.
Actually there was something....
A swooshing sound, plastic bags being gathered, or leaves being swept and stuffed vigourosly into those brown bags, or the sound of a glamourous gown made of " mille feuille" making its way down a scarlet staircase. That was the exact sound, only none of it was beautiful as the gown. It was lonely, scary and real.
The swooshing was so loud that it kept me awake, great! deaf and aware of it as much as possible. ( don't forget the pain)
Instructed by my doctor " do not listen to any direct music in the ear canal, the ear drum is damaged and can be damaged further if you do"
No music, fine. I sulk, leave and desperatly look for my iPod because I want, need to hear something.
3.22 minutes into Brandenburg Concerto and I rip the headphones out just as the violins are reaching their demise, I can't take it. I can barely hear the beautiful concerto eventhough I am pressing my little buds as far in as I can without breaking a sweat from the pain. Doctor's orders, yeah right.
It's a sunny day so I have my Julia Roberts shades on to hide my tears ...I sob a little, suck it up and continue on home.
I figure I have my memories of what I could hear. I lay down and dream.
Waves. Waves are definitely a good one. Any waves, lake waves are nice and different from ocean or sea waves. Not sure why. But the lake waves seem to be quiet as they approach and then strong and full of force as they introduce themselves to the shore.
Also, there are the napping waves and the tanning on the beach waves. Napping waves are much crisper in sound, organized and precise...close your eyes and think back to the last time you were napping and could hear waves. You could time the splash impact almost to the second. I don't have the answer as to why, so you don't need to read fast to read why...it's just an observation. Perhaps the napping not sleeping is the reason why. Ever notice how your senses are heightened when you nap. The tv is loud and annoying, the cat playing with its toy is all of a sudden coming across on a loudspeaker and if someone is walking by, you now have powers to see with your eyes closed. They are reaching for the remote, opening their purse. It's amazing!
The tanning on the beach waves. They are fun and playful, scripted to a dance beat. Rough and wild. Taunting you to come in, you could be 12 feet from the longest tide and all of a sudden your toes are wet. I love the tanning waves most. How intense and romantic , a blessing of a sound to exist.
Other memories include by grandmother's voice saying to my grandfather that I have awakened.
I was 17, sleeping at my grandparent's house and like all people, eventually woke up. My bed was on the wall featuring all windows that opened up to the " outdoor kitchen"...grandmother was peeking, and grandfather must have been positioned with what is later to follow. I must have opened my eyes because that seemed to be their queue. From a deep sleep I heard "she's awake" grandfather entered my room with a tray of food fit for a queen, decorated with many courses, flowers and exquisite linens, pressed and draped over a large tray. Gracefully placed on my lap, grandmother now appearing from the back entrance, fluffing my pillow for support, handing me my glasses, opening all windows for morning light and summer smells of flowers and berries and finally both proceed to banter on planning the day and posing endless questions of prep to follow. The commotion was fantastic. Spoiled, certainly. Lastly, as all this talk was going on all 4 arms are still working, pouring the tea, offering sugar or lemon, butter with jam or just jam. It was quite a production, rehearsed? Impossible, true love? Yes!
The sound within that entire house was beautiful.
The creeks as I enter the kitchen were old but fresh, loud and an impossible obstacle if one were to try and surprise by their entrance. The kitchen has the main door but it should not, it was never closed, always visitors. ( I think it had a curtain, I remember a faint snap of some sort as the curtain or a curtain would be picked up by a gust and then dropped back down) hmmm, yes that seems right. The sound of hello kisses and treats being placed on the table are oh so vivid. Moving on, we now have three different sounds. One, the sound as my feet hit first the bare floor, then the frame and then a woven rug that now leads to the piano room. The piano room, room 2 with the area rug mentioned under my feet was the room only divided by the door from the kitchen ( always open again) but this room is a dark room, full of pictures and figurines. Nothing like any of the other rooms. Rooms 1 and 2, opposites. Life in one and transition to somewhere in the other? Haven't quite figured that out just yet. Now that I am thinking about it, why was that room so dark, was it always dark? It's like Mary Lennox lived in the house and Colin Craven lived in the piano room.
Readers, please tell me you are aware of thses timeless characters from the classic by Frances Hodgson Burnett...if not please stop here, read the book and finish later.
Has anyone ever opened the drapes, are there drapes. I must make an inquiry. My father will know. I will have a summary ready for those interested in a later entry.
Next is room 3, the everything room, tv room, dining room, kind of bedroom, and the room that housed the armoires. Nothing special about these armoires now, but back then they were full of sounds that are with me always. Doors to endless adventures in role playing. Ah, for me to smile, no details necessary.
And lastly, the steps from the back door out to the "outdoor kitchen". Cement and not much to look at but that pitter patter of in and out, of many visitors hold memories of many sounds for me for many years still.
Every sound was clear and louder than as if I were standing in that house that day, or today, and I'm sure tomorrow the sound will be even louder.
I remember as I lay there thinking of these sounds and realized that if I were to never regain my hearing that I would be ok. I would have my memories to help me through the void....but ...
Not today:
Thank you Sonus ( Greek Goddess of Sound) for restoring my hearing.
An experience, yes. I could have done without the stabbing pain but all in all it has resurected memories of sounds and voices that I will cherish with me always. Ones I didn't think of often but now review daily and when I do, I close my eyes, play one of my many favourite melodies and take myself back to that specific day when the sound was all that mattered. For the sound was what gave life to my remembering. It's easy to think back and picture what one looked like, walked like, danced like but to remember the sound of their breath as it entered their soul and left their pores, their hand holding yours as the wind passed through the fold in your fingers or what their lips sounded like as they began to smile, a soft but wet suction as they separate from the teeth and meet the full smile. That takes the sound of life's music and creates memories within us waiting to be remembered and when they are, ohh... are they ever special, tender and everlasting.
* something else I think of besides the dinner menu and laundry change.
Tomorrow's Topic:
Jewels of the city
I swear and proudly state that I could not go a day without the sound of music.
I've often thought to myself ( while staring at myself on the subway)* could I ever be without my hearing?
Well, 6 months ago I was very close to that reality.
Long story short:
Bad cold ( I don't get sick often, for my faithful readers of 3 days, my cold on day 2 is now over)
Didn't stay home, swam daily for 4 days straight in the ocean. Nothing like the salt on your skin to make you feel like you're in Blue Lagoon, I being Brooke Sheilds, long thick chestnut hair, capri blue eyes etc etc ( that *****)
So I swam...and upon my return home spent 2 hours with my head between my legs in agony with the worst pain ever.
I'm no sissy! Honestly, maybe a little sissy, but by no means a sissy sissy.
So we all get it, lots of pain, horrible horrible horrible pain....and the loss of hearing.
2 complete weeks, 24 hrs a day of nothing.
Actually there was something....
A swooshing sound, plastic bags being gathered, or leaves being swept and stuffed vigourosly into those brown bags, or the sound of a glamourous gown made of " mille feuille" making its way down a scarlet staircase. That was the exact sound, only none of it was beautiful as the gown. It was lonely, scary and real.
The swooshing was so loud that it kept me awake, great! deaf and aware of it as much as possible. ( don't forget the pain)
Instructed by my doctor " do not listen to any direct music in the ear canal, the ear drum is damaged and can be damaged further if you do"
No music, fine. I sulk, leave and desperatly look for my iPod because I want, need to hear something.
3.22 minutes into Brandenburg Concerto and I rip the headphones out just as the violins are reaching their demise, I can't take it. I can barely hear the beautiful concerto eventhough I am pressing my little buds as far in as I can without breaking a sweat from the pain. Doctor's orders, yeah right.
It's a sunny day so I have my Julia Roberts shades on to hide my tears ...I sob a little, suck it up and continue on home.
I figure I have my memories of what I could hear. I lay down and dream.
Waves. Waves are definitely a good one. Any waves, lake waves are nice and different from ocean or sea waves. Not sure why. But the lake waves seem to be quiet as they approach and then strong and full of force as they introduce themselves to the shore.
Also, there are the napping waves and the tanning on the beach waves. Napping waves are much crisper in sound, organized and precise...close your eyes and think back to the last time you were napping and could hear waves. You could time the splash impact almost to the second. I don't have the answer as to why, so you don't need to read fast to read why...it's just an observation. Perhaps the napping not sleeping is the reason why. Ever notice how your senses are heightened when you nap. The tv is loud and annoying, the cat playing with its toy is all of a sudden coming across on a loudspeaker and if someone is walking by, you now have powers to see with your eyes closed. They are reaching for the remote, opening their purse. It's amazing!
The tanning on the beach waves. They are fun and playful, scripted to a dance beat. Rough and wild. Taunting you to come in, you could be 12 feet from the longest tide and all of a sudden your toes are wet. I love the tanning waves most. How intense and romantic , a blessing of a sound to exist.
Other memories include by grandmother's voice saying to my grandfather that I have awakened.
I was 17, sleeping at my grandparent's house and like all people, eventually woke up. My bed was on the wall featuring all windows that opened up to the " outdoor kitchen"...grandmother was peeking, and grandfather must have been positioned with what is later to follow. I must have opened my eyes because that seemed to be their queue. From a deep sleep I heard "she's awake" grandfather entered my room with a tray of food fit for a queen, decorated with many courses, flowers and exquisite linens, pressed and draped over a large tray. Gracefully placed on my lap, grandmother now appearing from the back entrance, fluffing my pillow for support, handing me my glasses, opening all windows for morning light and summer smells of flowers and berries and finally both proceed to banter on planning the day and posing endless questions of prep to follow. The commotion was fantastic. Spoiled, certainly. Lastly, as all this talk was going on all 4 arms are still working, pouring the tea, offering sugar or lemon, butter with jam or just jam. It was quite a production, rehearsed? Impossible, true love? Yes!
The sound within that entire house was beautiful.
The creeks as I enter the kitchen were old but fresh, loud and an impossible obstacle if one were to try and surprise by their entrance. The kitchen has the main door but it should not, it was never closed, always visitors. ( I think it had a curtain, I remember a faint snap of some sort as the curtain or a curtain would be picked up by a gust and then dropped back down) hmmm, yes that seems right. The sound of hello kisses and treats being placed on the table are oh so vivid. Moving on, we now have three different sounds. One, the sound as my feet hit first the bare floor, then the frame and then a woven rug that now leads to the piano room. The piano room, room 2 with the area rug mentioned under my feet was the room only divided by the door from the kitchen ( always open again) but this room is a dark room, full of pictures and figurines. Nothing like any of the other rooms. Rooms 1 and 2, opposites. Life in one and transition to somewhere in the other? Haven't quite figured that out just yet. Now that I am thinking about it, why was that room so dark, was it always dark? It's like Mary Lennox lived in the house and Colin Craven lived in the piano room.
Readers, please tell me you are aware of thses timeless characters from the classic by Frances Hodgson Burnett...if not please stop here, read the book and finish later.
Has anyone ever opened the drapes, are there drapes. I must make an inquiry. My father will know. I will have a summary ready for those interested in a later entry.
Next is room 3, the everything room, tv room, dining room, kind of bedroom, and the room that housed the armoires. Nothing special about these armoires now, but back then they were full of sounds that are with me always. Doors to endless adventures in role playing. Ah, for me to smile, no details necessary.
And lastly, the steps from the back door out to the "outdoor kitchen". Cement and not much to look at but that pitter patter of in and out, of many visitors hold memories of many sounds for me for many years still.
Every sound was clear and louder than as if I were standing in that house that day, or today, and I'm sure tomorrow the sound will be even louder.
I remember as I lay there thinking of these sounds and realized that if I were to never regain my hearing that I would be ok. I would have my memories to help me through the void....but ...
Not today:
Thank you Sonus ( Greek Goddess of Sound) for restoring my hearing.
An experience, yes. I could have done without the stabbing pain but all in all it has resurected memories of sounds and voices that I will cherish with me always. Ones I didn't think of often but now review daily and when I do, I close my eyes, play one of my many favourite melodies and take myself back to that specific day when the sound was all that mattered. For the sound was what gave life to my remembering. It's easy to think back and picture what one looked like, walked like, danced like but to remember the sound of their breath as it entered their soul and left their pores, their hand holding yours as the wind passed through the fold in your fingers or what their lips sounded like as they began to smile, a soft but wet suction as they separate from the teeth and meet the full smile. That takes the sound of life's music and creates memories within us waiting to be remembered and when they are, ohh... are they ever special, tender and everlasting.
* something else I think of besides the dinner menu and laundry change.
Tomorrow's Topic:
Jewels of the city
1 comment:
You are right, but think of Bethoven, he became even more famous when he was deaf. I think, once one hears something nice, and Bethoven definitely had heard a lot of splendid music by then, cannot forget it.
I think ( no knowledge of how the system works, or if, it is only a guess, or better, a hope ) the brain can play the sounds in the dark of the deafness, if the heart really wants to, and the heart is full of love for it.
Love, Me
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