Alone at last. I have waited for a long time to be here where it is quiet. And now it is quiet. The whole first week, all I heard was a loud ringing sound in my ears; like I had tinnitus or something. I asked an audiologist for an explanation. It seems, that the lymph soaked cilia in the cochlea continue to have residual rhythmic motion. Especially after being overly stimulated for extended periods of time. (Frequencies are obscured in patterns, depending on the distance into the cochlea; or not.)

I love the sun. I am massaged as it slowly burrows deep inside me, filling me with strength and energy. The occassional slight breeze tickles. I can hear it too. Just so gently. It comes and goes. I hear a dog. Without opening my eyes, I assume that a party is passing through and the dog is romping everywhere to encircle his owners. I am surprised that the dog was able to get so close to me without warning. I can't imagine how I missed the sounds of the party entering the valley. The dog must be very close because I can hear him panting loudly. I leisurely take off my eye protectors and turn to greet the canine. I can't see him. I look everywhere. I can still hear him. It is so weird. I turn in circles and look everywhere. I am alone. I hear loud panting but see nothing. I look up. It is a bird flying in the valley maybe thirty yards from me. I can hear the wings flapping. I can hear the bird flying as loudly as if a dog is panting next to my ear. I am superman. I have super hearing.

It is time to listen. In the beginning, all I could hear was ringing. Now I can start to hear desert sounds. So I listen. I listen hard. And I watch myself listen. I watch myself listen harder. And I understand what I am doing when I listen harder. I am opening up to the outside. I am really listening. I understand that when it is too bright, I close my eyes. But what do I do when it is too loud. I don't have ear lids. The ringing sound is analogous to eyelids for the ear. It covers all the low level noise. And all humans hear are sounds that are louder than the ringing. But its not only the ringing that blocks noise in the city. I don't know what it is, except to say that I can feel it. It is an attitude; an attitude of apathy, denial, and fear. Now, with the ringing fading, I am starting to really hear. Not single noises and sounds, but the gestalt. The sound montage: it is a single entity that I can feel. Like the visual canvas for the eyes, the ears also have a canvas that I can play on. Like reconstructing within, the vast expanse of awareness, when looking at the sky or the grand canyon; the sound montage has an expanse of its own. As an enormity of a canyon is felt by visualizing its depth, so is the magnitude of desert quiet so illuminated by a tactile grace of the sounds we can hear. It is not so much the absense of sound that is so inspiring as the amplification of the previously microscopic.

For me to listen now, I must be fearless. After a lifetime of building barriers to loud offensive incessant noise, I can let go of that today. I don't have to be on the lookout to be scared to sounds or people. I don't have to wear clothes to protect me from dangerous humans.

As the sun hides behind the rocks to the west, I know I have a few more hours of daytime before it gets cold. I setup to build a fire with some wood that I cut and some that I brought from town. I have a lot of wood from town, and I like chopping wood with an axe too. I dream and remember. It is sad. I gather up my things from the day, and check out the food stash. I haven't eaten anything today. I didn't even think about food before this. Maybe I am not hungry.

I have sprouted almonds. They are plumb and fresh. I eat one and I don't like it. I put another one in my mouth, but spit it out after chewing a little. I guess I am not hungry. But it seems a pity to waste all these nuts. As it is getting cold, I put on my thermal underwear. It is high tech magic. Next I put on my bathrobe, a luxurious Egyptian cotton extra large white plush garment. I light the fire and watch it start. It is getting dark and I can see the stars. I am 8 years old again looking at the stars. I sit down with no plans.

 

My headlight shines on the mouse. He freezes. I look. He runs away. He comes back. We do it again. And again. Then I start to hold the almond when he comes so that he has to take it from me. It is awkward at first. He keeps on coming back for more sprouted almonds. I keep handing him the almonds.

Two mice fight over me. It seems one of them is too scared to take the almond from me, he likes it better the other way. Eventually, he comes around too. That stash of almonds would last them longer if I didn't sprout them all, but I am sure they are happy to have met me. I love them. He comes over and I gently hand him an almond. He sits up on his hind legs and steadies the almond with his two hands and his mouth. He takes the almond but doesn't leave. He just sits up and looks at me for a whole moment, and then runs away.