Ear in Training - My Life as an Ear 100 Days after the Hookup -The Christmas Gift

There is no beginning or end
Yesterday is history
Tomorrow is mystery
Today is a gift.

I am listening to life. Hearing is a coat of many textures that I put on at the start of each day. Like cloth, I dress for sound in the morning. The word "listen" contains the same letters as the word "silent." Though there are times that I seek the solitude of silence, I no longer hear, I listen. Still searching for words with my eyes, I have graduated from lip reading to eaves dropping.

Early each morning I take long gentle walks. In the midst of the still darkness before dawn when the colors are eliminated, I notice much more clearly the subtle shape of leaves and flowers. Then when daybreak comes, the world seems to reverberate in bright wild Technicolor. It is the same experience with the cochlear implant. My life has been spent hearing the form of words as if in shadows. Then when I switch on the implant, the sentence clearly understood makes me gasp for the clarity of it all. For the first time in my life I heard a small bird sing, a red cardinal.

A light broke in upon my brain,
It was the carol of a bird;
It ceased, and then it came again,
The sweetest song ear e'ver heard.
- Lord Byron

I'm living at the speed of life. Who I was is not who I am becoming. My one hundred days after hookup have been blue skies and highflying c"louds", soaking in the soundlight. The cochlear implant, in its highest form is a dream launcher, an exhilarating long shot, a wish upon a star. Who I am is more than who I was. Albert Einstein remarked, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is."

I'm living life with a capital L. I sailed Labor Day afternoon on Lake Michigan on a three-mast schooner, actively seeking new experiences to hear. So strange to enjoy the tone of waves, the wind whistle along the canvas sails, hemp ropes creaking against hand-carved oak, strong resonant steps running on the wooden planks. All the rules have changed for me. So much is different, so much is the same. I find I'm loving listening to people talk. All my life I have carried an enormous imaginary potted plant in front of me, to hide behind in people situations. I'm enjoying participating, laughing, conversing, understanding, discussing, disagreeing, becoming social. My Christmas Gift is my imaginary potted plant to give to anyone who would like to give it a good home, water it, take it for a walk, or just put in a warm side corner to grow towards the light. I don't need it anymore.

"Someone unlocked and opened my Door,
To let my Self walk into Day.
- Sr. Imelda Spitzer, poet.

Rosie Poetzel