The Third Ear, The Eleventh Finger: How Wide and Deep the Gift of Life!

Am I the only person in the world who finds dirty snow beautiful and fascinating?

I took a three

mile walk today. It was just about this time last year, that I was finally confident enough to take a long walk by myself and able to take in some of the delicate detail that the end of winter offers. Four months after my corneal transplant, I could see detail that I had long ago forgotten existed. Now, a year and a half out, I wear glasses and the clarity is even better.

As I walked today, I remembered last spring and the first seeing of extraordinary textures and grays and browns of dirty snow. As the two to five foot accumulation of snow slowly melts alongside the road, it leaves bizarre and wonderful sculptures. Whenever I talk face to face about this I get blank stares. Obviously this enthrallment with dirty snow is not commonly shared. I'm so easily entertained. But maybe this is part of my good fortune. It's part of the reality that although I now have 20/30 eyesight, you and I do not see/experience the same universe. That which delights one of us, may yet elude the other.

This year I'm able to wander about in the forest. I first notice the patchwork of areas with snow contrasting with snowless patches. Standing still, I absorb the expectant quiet of spring-around- the-corner. I feel the boundless patience of mother earth. I hear her slow steady voice "Each bud, each shade of green will appear in its own time." Wisdom the entire forest knows. I alone need the reminder.

Deep in the woods, the only spots without snow are right around the trunk. I can see the warmth around the tree trunks. The matted leaves, free from the snow, are just beginning to decay, just beginning their return to the soil.

I'm fascinated by bits of nature's debris, small twigs and branches of pine needles scattered by storms; weight and warmth slowly embedding them in the snow. Had I ever seen this before? Is it something I had forgotten, something I never noticed, or a phenomenon unique to this year's pattern of snowfalls and wind storms?

Surviving under the snow, the moss on tree trunks and rocks is among the first greenery to reappear. It sings spring green.

The singing of green and the texture of snow is the reason I named this blog The Third Ear, The Eleventh Finger. Everything I see becomes an enhanced opportunity to explore texture and sound. I see the squirrel moving and the "sound appreciation" part of my brain responds. I hear the musicality of the squirrel's busy-ness is. The "texture appreciation" part of my brain feels the fur, the taught muscles, the flick of the tail.

I wish I understood and knew more about brain plasticity. But clearly my personal experience of deteriorating vision, adapting, and then regaining vision is that texture and sound (and motion and smell) became much more important, more receptive. Muted colors and blurry shapes did not provide enough detail. It is through touch , sound, motion, and smell that I was able to collect data. I know first hand how hungry the brain (the left brain) is for information and how hungry the heart (the right brain) is for beauty. And it is the brilliance of life that we adapt. Even though my eyesight is restored, I still organize data as if it were touch, sound, motion, smell. My transplanted eye is a third ear gathering enhanced auditory data and beauty. It is an eleventh finger collecting even more textures.

It's the texture of the bark that I'm drawn to. Twenty years ago I remember it was the sight of a sunset or distant mountains that made my heart swell. Now it is texture that makes me cry, "This is so beautiful!" The "texture" part of my brain is hyper receptive. It has become a favored pathway to beauty.

The gift of life is wider and deeper than we can comprehend. How diverse and plentiful are the paths to joy!