(click on drawing for photos)
Over two weeks ago I had a head cold, the first in many years. It lodged in my middle ears and wouldn’t budge as if everything had turned to hardened cement. Mostly, I could hear only my own breathing and my heart swooshing its steady rhythm in my head. It seemed I was being held prisoner against my will, being slowly swallowed up into a dark cavern and missing out on a big chunk of life.
This went on for 2 1/2 weeks and a doctor’s visit brought mixed reviews! My hearing loss though severe was not permanent, what a relief! However, it would take 6-8 weeks to recover. Aaaaaurgh!
The morning after the doctor’s visit, everything changed. With a spontaneous comment I made to a friend, “I just want to live my life,” a small ray of light suddenly burst into a living stream, full and rich, as an intriguing memory popped simultaneously into my head. It was a reminder of a favorite moment a few years ago when I had done a festive table setting at the barn and invited friends who were close to my heart. More memories trailered like a slideshow of table settings I had done through the years. I suddenly knew what was truly the missing chunk in my life.
I had abandoned it a few years ago. I love creating ambience, and one of the things in particular that I enjoy doing are table settings sometimes in unexpected places. It brings me a childlike joy. I had let life’s pressures crowd it out. But, I thought, I can change that now. Easily. And reunite with friends, both old and new, playfully preparing settings in happy anticipation of those reunions.
One of those friends, not knowing my latest insight, said in response to my hearing loss, “Did your hearing diminish because you weren’t hearing enough of what you wanted?” I laughed with the unexpected twist.
She was right. My hearing improved significantly the same day I “heard” what I wanted and loved. What a metaphor I’d been living. Literally not hearing when I wasn’t hearing!
I’ve been surprised by what has followed. This desire has become a significant portal for rest of my life’s story that has been stalled just like Tal with his ongoing laminitis. It has brought together the individual parts of a larger vision I’ve carried for years.
I am ready to enter the final and most fulfilling season of my life walking side by side with my herd of six horses and companion dog, the nature that surrounds, heartfelt art, friends and family I love, and the abundance of humans who care to skip along hand, hoof and paw with us. I’ve found what was missing. It was so easy to overlook but so delightful to fix. It is an important doorway into the expansiveness of the rest of my life.