3D Sensory Perception

As daffodils push their leaves up out of the ground, I see birds in the tree limbs overhead.

But I cannot hear them.

The whistling of tinnitus is louder than normal today.

And with that, I have lost part of my former normal hearing.

And with that, I have lost part of my three-dimensional sensory perception (or 4D, if you consider time of flight (of sound and birds)).

The second time my wife and I met, at age 14, we hiked five days on the Appalachian Trail.  Ten years later, we married.

My reputation at that time earned me the nickname "Eagle Eyes" because I could hear many sounds others couldn't and would identify the source of many of the sounds, usually birds, accurately.

Boy Scout training, in that case, taught me to pull order out of the chaos of background noise.

Now, much of what I see and hear is background noise again.

Would that I could write a violin piece for someone like Anne-Sophie Mutter and hear all the subharmonics!

Perhaps I could convince my wife that I prefer hikes on the AT to walking through shopping districts and tourist traps?

I don't remember as many birds or their sounds as I used to, but then again I can't hear them, so there is a symmetry to my forgetfulness.

To see the silence of space from a suborbital craft would suit me just fine, I'm sure.

Today is a time for quiet meditation.

No need to see or hear much.

My curiosity is not piqued.

Small piles of glommed-together snowflakes melt under the pelt of rain.

Give in to the tinnitus, sssssssssssss...

Give in to a morning lost, zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...