Blood makes noise, it's the ringing in my ears.

I have had tinnitus for about 5 years perhaps, maybe less, maybe more. Funny that something that was so initially traumatizing has now had its corners sanded down, and the memory of exactly when is forgotten.

Recalling the where is far easier, as I do have vivid pictures of myself on the floor in my kitchen, after reading page after page online about how depressing and difficult it is to live with. It took about 2 weeks to learn how to live with the rush in the head and the realization that I was never to have true *silence* again.

As time wore on, however, I began to see, or hear, rather, my situation in a new way. I decided to think of the sound less as a nuisance, curse, or other annoyance, and more as a reminder of being alive. Blood makes noise, after all. It became a solace and I recall when I went into my old workplace (years ago), I would often go into the washroom just to hear it and remind myself of what was important. It was like god lived in my ears.

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to a particularly hard situation - the tinnitus seemed to be quite a bit worse and the waves had morphed into something much more like a ring. It was almost possible for me to pick out the actual note of the sound.

Ironic, after having read and fully appreciated this article by Pico Iver I found myself alone, in the dark-turning-to-glorious-glorious-sunrise, and in a spot where I was really forced to let go and leave what may be, be.

All this to say that people go through so much more than I can ever possibly know, and I myself am so absolutely unbelievably blessed and that the closer I can get to the beauty contained within each movement of each moment, the better I will be able to live a full and enriched life. To embrace the ringing in the ears, at various volumes and pitches, and to raise arms up in thanks.