If the pain accompanying a physical malady had a unique sonic signature, deaf doctors might be at a distinct disadvantage in diagnosing the ailment. How odd it must be to listen to a doctor—with unimpaired hearing—say, “I can hear your pain.” Yet it would not be so unusual for a doctor to say “I hear a gallop rhythm,” when describing an abnormal heart-beat sound. The sound is said to resemble the noise made by the hooves of a galloping horse, a symptom of ventricular dysfunction or heart failure. So, it’s not necessarily the pain the doctor hears…it’s the sonic symptom. As I give these matters more thought…and give my mind the freedom to explore concepts that might usually be dismissed as nonsense…it occurs to me that highly sensitive listening devices might one day enable physicians to detect sonic symptoms of all kinds of aches and afflictions. Imagine, for example, a device that can detect and record sounds associated with stress cracks in the skeletal structure…BEFORE a hip joint breaks, thereby providing an opportunity for preemptive reinforcement surgery. Or, consider detection of the impending likelihood of Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), enabling doctors to initiate treatment to avoid TIA and subsequent full-scale stroke. Effing magic…that could either protect our species from extinction…or accelerate the process.
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I have yet to commence this morning’s sonic and olfactory immersion. I will interrupt my thought processes in favor of giving myself a limited sensory treatment.
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The patchouli cones have been used up, so today I am using sandal incense cones to accompany relaxing sounds. I am increasingly conscious of the amount of time I devote to morning routines. That consciousness has made me realize what a spendthrift I can be, ignoring the fact that time is not the inexhaustible resource I once seem to have believed it to be. Once spent, the temporal equivalents of money are gone. Unlike bills and coins, accumulations of time cannot be restored or recreated. Time does not accrue interest. And like incense, time leaves only ashes and—for a while—a lingering aroma. Sounds leave echoes…or memories that remind me of echoes…that cling to the past like sonic portraits painted by keepers of wisdom.
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Two people left comments on my post yesterday; one a person I’ve known for almost 30 years and one for more than 10 years. I am beyond grateful for their comments…and even more grateful for the people who left them. I often feel I am incapable of expressing how much my limited audience means to me. But on the other hand I think my unrestrained expressions of appreciation would seem overly maudlin, to the point of being almost unbelievable. Oh, well, so be it. As long as the people for whom I am so grateful understand that I am sincere, that’s all that matters.
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My fingers keep slipping from their “do not type” position into their “type j a thousand times” position. I slide from one to the other and back again. Evidence is clear; I have been awake for 3 hours and need a bit of a nap.
Hope, I want to know more about that app. Parker Palmer is a name I recognize, but only in bits and pieces. I’m curious about his place in your thought processes. Thanks, by the way, for reading what I wrote. I need to see more from you! John
If doctors were able to hear sonic signatures of pain that would be so welcome. No more gaslighting their patients. Long overdue.
I have struggled with routines for the past many years. I found an app that is helping me. Who knew I could make my bed every day?!
But I’d like to hear more about being a spendthrift of time. Is any ever wasted? Or are we programmed to think it is? I’m thinking you are relating this thought in terms of a quote of Parker Palmer’s that I think of often. “In the time I have left what do I want to give myself to and what do I want to let go of.”
Sandal incense. I remember that smell from my younger years. My older sister uses Prairie Sage in her house and my kids love that her house smells the same as it did when they were little.