The Sound Experience of the Un-Deaf

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The Sound Experience of the Un-DeafTired, or maybe it's just the head. It's achy. I mean the neck and the nerves there. It's nerve-ache. Spirit-ache. Whatever-ache. It's been a while, or not, I am not sure. But I felt like the time had stretched and then constricted, a little strangely for these past few days. or more. I don't know. I am not making this up. I don't care.

Meditation to the sounds of nature, does twist you senses around like that, I suppose.

The sounds of the world, exposed to the sound-sensitive person like me, seem to have swallowed me up. I could not find myself, if I let it eat me from all sides. I may just get sucked into a sound-warped world.

It started a few days ago, after what it seemed like the normal spin of my days (or nights), where I slept when most were awake, and headed to bed, when most were buzzing like bees ready to tweak their honey-loaded piece of what-is-that.

I found myself, awake, my eye-lids widely-closed, my center, internally absorbing the silence that comforted and disturbed me in the wee hours of this particular morning. The people-associated noise were nil.

Except for the sounds of the occasional chatter of a nut, in my mind, nothing else existed. It was still dark outside, and inside, a still darkness wrapped around me, I could feel it. Just before the self knew what it was intending to do, I let myself slip into the game of noticing every single source of sounds, that my ear could detect, before the day-people started their routine.

With lid-shut eyes, here were the sounds I heard:

My un-pranayama like breathing, with the beating sounds of the heart that radiated to my head.
The ceiling fan swooshing to its on beat.
The sound of the most-early-morning crickets that comforted me, as long as the crickets were outside, not inside.
The chirping of the early birds, singing very cheerfully.
The talking lizards that spoke in a room somewhere
The occasional barks from dogs from a distance.
The random creaks the house made to amuse nobody.
The slapping of the sliding doors against concrete or metal.
The passing winds, just passing through, just passing through.
The engine of a car revving, the day was dawning for day-time wanderers, sun-worshipers.
The passing vehicles, the tires giving off the sounds uniquely associated with them rolling off of the asphalt.
The sound as I ran my finger nails on my scalp.
The distance sound of my mother visiting the bathroom, her early morning ritual.
The sound of water being flushed.
The sound of the door-knob turning, a door opening.
The sound of the feet touching the floor, and the other mysterious sounds the feet made.
The sound of the TV being switched on, the noise that followed.
The sound of that came from her throat,
The sound that came from my own throat.

Opened my eyes, and felt, like the world could have eaten me for dessert, and I wouldn't even notice, or mind.

shanaz@RS | 2:28 AM | Labels:

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