See what's clear

     I knew long before I was told. I had known for a long time. I was finally compelled to face it, literally.  I got my driver license renewal in the mail and made an appointment to go to the DMV and renew. Deep down I wondered if I would manage to pass the test. Not a road test, thank God I don’t have to do that again. And I wasn’t so concerned about the written test either. I figured I could study up on what the speed limit is approaching an unregulated railroad crossing. I know that a pedestrian is second nothing as far as right of way and even though you want to sound your horn and teach them a lesson, that isn’t the correct answer. I figured I would be able to pass the written test. I was concerned about the eye test.

     For the past year or so, Prajna has said to me: “You can’t read that?” Well, no I couldn’t. And the thing is I don’t remember when the road signs became a little blurry. But my weakening vision never seemed to be a hindrance. Even driving, Prajna could read the street signs. If I was alone, no-one would be annoyed if I had to pass the sign before reading it and then turn around. And what was a little blurry vision anyway? It wasn’t like I was blind. I could still tell that something was there and wouldn’t hit anything.

     My appointment came. At the DMV I was not able to read the top line. I leaned against the viewfinder and looked in like a scientist searching for infinitesimal signs of anything. The letters all looked like fuzzy dots. I raised my eyebrows, frowned, squinted, and finally admitted I couldn’t read it. The lady asked me to read the next one down. I couldn’t read that one either. My right eye was finally able to read a line, but my left eye reached the 5^th line before I read, or guessed correctly.

     The lady gave me a conditional pass. There wasn’t any actual condition on it. But we both knew what had to happen. I had my picture taken with the same lopsided expression I’ve had for the last three license pictures and did not have to take any written test.

     There was no denying anymore that I needed something to correct my vision, eyeglasses. And the thing that’s funny, and a little scary is this: Once I stopped denying that I indeed needed glasses, things got a lot worse. A few days later in a store I realized how much trouble I had with the signs labeling the aisles. If I was looking down at a book and then looked up and tried to see, it was almost disorienting.

So I went to Walmart’s optometrist thinking they took walk-ins. When I was told no and had to make an appointment a week later, I left the store in a haze. Everything looked like something depicted in a cheap sci-fi movie where light speed is achieved, all distant and smeared. The thought that I had to wait another week seemed impossible. My appointment is today. I don’t know how long it will take to get the lenses made. But Prajna helped me pick out some frames.

     It is interesting that once I stepped out of denial, the situation did not get better, but more urgent. Denial is like a wonderfully warm comforter that I can wear when it’s freezing outside. But to extend the metaphor, I am wrapped in the comforter and it’s outside, nailed to the frozen ground. The temperature is slowly dropping and the comforter stays warm, but I’m still outside and will surely freeze to death eventually. So I stand up and shake off the comforter. Suddenly the cold hits like an icy ocean wave. Now there is a sense of urgency that I have to do something. And I think I can stretch this metaphor just a little further without compromising it.

     I’m standing in the freezing cold next to a blanket that I shook off and I have to get warm. But there is no indoor shelter. The only place there is to go is a group of people who have also shed their blankets and are standing in a huddle close enough to each other that they are keeping one other warm and alive. I have to admit that I have to ask for help and join them if I want to be warm and live.

     I don’t know how much of my denial of my failing eyesight was actually life or death. But my denial in the past has kept me from seeking help when I needed it. Denial, no matter how trivial is not healthy for me. So I’m getting eyeglasses.

     Longer than Prajna has been asking “You can’t read that?” I have been asking her: “What did they say?” Yes, I have failing hearing too. One issue at a time. It’s scary to come out and admit that on my blog that corrective hearing may be next. I want to deny that too. It’s such a comfortable state of mind that I want to go back and delete this last paragraph. If you’re reading it, I managed not to. For now, if you’re speaking to me, please be clear and aim to my right ear.

A purging silence

When you have tinnitus there is a constant ringing in you ear. Every minute of every day and night I hear a high pitched tone in the background. It’s best described as the noise old fashioned televisions would make when turned on. If you walked into a TV store three or four decades ago you would hear the high pitched whine of a wall full of televisions and that is what every room sounds like to me. And here’s one important thing: the quieter the room, the louder the noise in my ear. So by day I like a radio on and at night I like to have a fan on or a window open or something if possible. So I’m not used to silence. Absolute silence damages my calm.

Back at my old house I was about 300 yards from a freeway. That provided constant background noise. My old work was even closer to that freeway and even indoors that background noise was there. It wasn’t until I started my new job on relatively quiet Bryant Street that I noticed how calming the background freeway noise had been. My first evening at work got quiet. Inside and even outside was peaceful. So quiet in fact that I began to feel panic at the lack of background noise. The ringing in my ears seemed louder than ever.

So last evening I was pondering out loud what I might compose for the blog I post every Monday morning. I have a few stories of my childhood still tucked away. I could write about my kids or my cat or how much I love my wife. But even if I don’t act like I care that people read this, it really does matter to me and three paragraphs of how pretty she is and how good the biscuits were she made for supper and a lot of personal stuff might get tiresome. So last evening I was doing something I’ve never done which is, as I said, pondering aloud what to write.

Prajna suggested I consider writing about the present rather than the past. As she tried to explain it I thought she meant write about what happened to me that day. I told her that I had chronicled events right after they happened like my road trip to Big Bear with the young boys, my near miss driving home from work one night and most recently picking oranges.

Prajna tried to explain to me that she meant what God was trying to show me each day. Not that there was anything wrong with writing about the magic of a whale breech 14 years ago but that was the past. What am I experiencing and getting from God each day now?

As she tried to explain this two of my boys pounded though the room yelling and chasing. I apologized that I didn’t hear her because I was distracted. She said that was exactly what she was trying to explain. And the information I needed was lost because I was distracted.

While it’s okay to try to drown out my tinnitus with background noise I tend to drown out something more important with other distractions. I tend to keep my thoughts constantly racing. I am always thinking about something in the past or something I wish would happen or how I will set out my tasks at work next time. It goes on and on. Like a freeway in the distance there is continuous background noise in my head. And I’m afraid that if I turn it off the silence will be terrifying. But behind that silence what kind of direction or instruction might I get? What could be pointed out to me to observe and learn from? And I don’t know if it’s that communication I’m afraid of or not. I think it’s more the silence surrounding it that makes me feel alone. But that silence might just be necessary. I must be there to purge the distractions.

If this is the direction I should go then my blog should reflect it. By me posting this today I leave my comfort zone and state that there is something I ought to do and readers should know if I don’t.

My task now is to relax that tightly woven part of my mind. Turn down the distractions and listen to the silence for a Still Small Voice.