Life Sounds

A few weeks ago I went to hear my friend Mike Serna perform at the B'hai Temple. It was a poignant moment for me as it was pretty much touch and go for Mike last year and it was thought he might die. I always felt that he would pull through in the end. You may have read about his struggles here at this blog. Well, he's not dying and he's out playing flute again, and this is good. For me, hearing him play is the sound of life. As he plays "Amazing Grace" on his Native flute, I hear the breath of Creator flow through him, the music of the Divine, and I know this is a true miracle. This would be something I would need to remember soon.

Fast foward a couple of weeks to the meditation class I facilitate on Tuesdays after work. I have a wonderful circle of friends there, and they are very supportive. Last week was difficult for me. Since I received the colostomy, which will be with me the rest of my life, I've pretty much breezed through the entire process. At first it was difficult, but I got the hang of it fairly quickly when I look back on it, and life has pretty much returned to normal. I have a few challenges, but nothing to speak of. Really.

However, last week at meditation where, as you might imagine, there is a great deal of silence, my ostomy was quite noisy. Some people mistake the noise for flatulence, but in reality it is my digestive system working. I never know when the noise is going to happen and I have no control over it at all. I hear it at the same time others hear it. Despite the fact that I have been extremely open about having a colostomy, this is the one issue that causes me a great deal of embarrassment, and even humiliation.

During meditation discussion last week, after having the noises go on for some time, I was listening to someone speak and a loud noise came from me. By reflex I hit my abdomen area in an attempt to make it stop, and it hurt. I was taken aback because I couldn't quite believe that I had actually hit my ostomy. I felt bad for my body, as it was only doing what it is meant to do. I felt shame.

Then, quite unexpedtedly, my bouncy sunshiney friend, Susan, interrupted the person speaking and asked if she could say something. She spoke to the group about the fact that my ostomy was making noises and everyone laughed. I felt embarrassment, yes, but also relief that she had broken the silence, which is a curious way to describe it because there was definitely no silence, but there was silence about what was happening. She looked at me and said that she loved it when my ostomy made noises because it meant I was alive and 'here.' She said every time it makes noise she says to herself, "Yes! She's here! She's alive!" Everyone smiled at her. Everyone smiled at me, and they all said they felt the same way.

What Susan did was such a gift and such a compassionate act because it gave me an opportunity to explain my situation to new attendees, and also to not have to feel such shame and embarrassment about something I couldn't control.

I am working now, because of Susan's act of compassion, to look for ways to view my ostomy noise as "life sounds."

She's right, you know. I can be here and make sound or I can not be here and be silent. Sound is best.

I want to thank Susan for offering me a new way to view and also listen to my ostomy. I want to be thankful and mindful of life sounds.

Thank you so much, Susan, for handing me that flower. You are a Bodhisattva. I love you very much.

"We are all holes in the flute
that the Divine's breath moves through.
Listen to this music." ~Hafiz~