Numb

I was sick for the last two weeks of February. The most bothersome symptom that I encountered was a stopped-up, fluid-filled ear. From dizziness to dissonant sounds – I had it all. And I couldn't figure out what to do to make it better. But here is something random that I learned from it. The entire left side of my face felt a bit numb when my ear wouldn't turn on.

I was in New York about a year ago. During that trip, a friend of mine and I participated in an exhibition called Dialog in the Dark. It’s a contained experiment in navigating the city of New York, blind. As I moved with a walking cane from a simulated subway to a replica of Times Square in complete darkness, I felt a similar sensation. My eyes felt numb when they couldn't see.

I find it odd that twice now, when parts of my physical body weren't able to do the thing for which they were created, they felt numb. So it caused me to wonder – does that phenomenon transcend to the physical? Are there parts of who we are that are numb because they are not being used?

I'd venture to say that whether we admit it or not - the answer is yes. We all have blockages somewhere that keep us from reaching our full potential. That allow us to move through life in a protective, numbed form. And we aren't even aware of the wonderful sensations we are missing.

Which then raises the question – what causes numbness? Physically, it can be illness...injury...choice, in the case of my blindness experiment. Idleness – like when my foot falls asleep. Is it that different in matters of the heart? Illness and injury certainly exist on an emotional and spiritual level. We can choose to numb ourselves. And I won’t even start on the dangers of idleness.

Whatever the cause...here we are. Numbed people interacting with numbed people. And we gather in solidarity with those whose numbness justifies or compliments our own. Until, hopefully, someday someone draws us out into the world of sensation. The world of feeling. The world of life.

And the thing is – it is rarely comfortable. When the light gradually came on after 30 minutes in total darkness, it hurt my eyes. When that blood rushes back into my sleeping foot; the prickles are unbearable. Even the progression of getting my hearing back was fraught with frustration in the “two steps forward, one step back” process.

Isn't it funny, though…however the feeling returns – slowly adjusting to sight again, quickly returning to my foot or intermittently as with my hearing – it’s never the “right” way because it’s always uncomfortable. The processes of growth - development - change - all things that require us to let go of the numbness...they are always uncomfortable. So, I hope that I have the grace to believe the process is always worth it.