cravings

this week has been about cravings--cravings for all kinds of odd bits. randomly yesterday i wanted to sit at my desk and listen to my new amy winehouse cd and eat a package (yes, the whole package) of cherry pull n' peel twizzlers. instead when i was done with work, i was whisked north into the city, to meet an old friend.

teresa was at a conference for the blind; she's a grad assistant to a very well-known professor in the blind community, and they were staffing a game called "power showdown." there's not a lot of games out there for people who are blind; this one is a cross between air hockey and ping-pong, a large, oval table with edges rising about six inches on all sides. in the middle there is a large board, poised over the surface, to block hits that could potentially harm your opponent. players are positioned at each end, with a hard wooden paddle and a protective glove for the hand holding the paddle, protecting a net at their end. the ball has a distinct rattle, and games become quite explosive--the ball shoots off the table, a guide dog jerks to retrieve it, or the ball hits the middle board with a crack.

as i stood there watching two sisters slam the ball back and forth i considered how much fun the game looked, and how, if playing, i'd be at quite the deficit: when you're sighted and playing, you're given a blindfold, so that you are on par with your opponent.

even half-deaf, i can't discern where sounds are--they are everywhere, all at once. sirens in the distance attack from north and south, east and west. someone in a neighboring townhouse shuts a door and i jump, thinking that it is in our own home. when i was a kid and received my very own radio, with ear-buds, i popped them in and immediately wondered what the attraction was: it was a stereo radio, so in my right ear i heard the drums, and in my left ear i felt a rumble, as if all the music was there.

on the way home, i opened the window and shut my eyes, rested my head against the seat as dan drove. i felt the wind brush over my shut eyes and the hot glow of lights as we passed gas stations. i thought about walking through life with my eyes shut, and never really knowing the full depth and breadth of color and beauty.

at once i corrected my own thoughts. my life has been an experience in half-heard noise, in missed jokes and lost sentences.

do i miss those words, those moments? perhaps i would, if it was something i craved daily. but when you live at a different pitch and level than your neighbor, you become comfortable with the place you are in.

one of my ex-coworkers was nearly fully-deaf; she had hearing aids that did help considerably, but despite having them, she always said she forgot to put them in, or would just leave them on the counter on purpose, because it was frustrating to have to listen to the whole world and not just her own small and familiar corner.

i am sure that it would be nice, to fully hear. and i cannot possibly equate my experience with someone who is fully deaf or blind, and cannot pretend to crave the same things they might. i can only say that standing there, watching that ball shuttle and slap against the paddles, i had a depth of understanding about my own cravings--that the craving to taste licorice was transitory, as transitory as breath, while the craving to hear and not feel that i have missed things--that is a craving that perhaps i will never satisfy, but that in itself perhaps is satisfactory.