Last time, I talked a bit about cell-phone users and the annoying way their toys are used. I guess I’m still on the same rant today. The soundtrack of our lives in recent times, it seems, is no longer provided by the likes of Mozart or The Beatles or Death Cab for Cutie. Rather, the ambient, background sounds we all live with in the present day are dominated by the buzz of all-too-loud voices speaking gibberish into pocket-size electronic devices.

I honest-to-god believe this.

Then, combine all those cell-phone voices and ringtones with the noise pollution of cars, airplanes, jackhammers, blowers and mowers, and we’ve got ourselves a real problem.

Global-warming, terrorism, and wars in the Middle East aside, I conclude that we’re increasingly unhealthy and at-risk because of the noise pollution in our lives.

On the same day I wrote that last entry on “noise,” I rediscovered, in my music collection, a two-CD set by Dr. Andrew Weil called “sound body, sound mind: music for healing.” The message provided there coincides with my opinion on the effect of sound. Says Weil:

“Sound is an especially powerful influence on the human nervous system. It can harm and it can heal.”

I think that the noises we are subjected to in the course of a typical day heavily contribute to the amount of stress we experience. I know for certain that that’s true for me, anyway.

It has occurred to me recently that I may be afflicted with a condition called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as a result of the conditions of my life over the last two-plus years. If that’s true (I have no “diagnosis,” just suspicion), then perhaps I’m just flailing about and over-reacting here: I’m simply hypersensitive as a result of the state of my being right now.

But here’s the deal: I would hope that we humans could find a way to exist without being on sensory overload most of our waking hours.

I suspect that I’m not the only one who experiences their existence this way and wishes that things were different.

In the last couple days, I have started to use the psychoacoustic approach provided on the Weil CD set in an attempt to address my unacceptably high anxiety levels. I’m hoping that I can get some results with this method and that I can energize and heal my body and soul.

I believe there’s way too much noise in the world. I’m particularly annoyed with our use of cell phones, but, just generally, I think this society is way too noise-polluted. Tell me: just where does one go these days to get away from someone talking on their phone?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not basically an anti-cell-phone person. My only phone is a cell phone. And, I own the latest technology; the phone does a lot of things a phone doesn’t really need to do: like take pictures (although I’ve never used this particular feature). I also own and use one of those Bluetooth devices that allow a wireless connection between an earpiece and the phone. (Which, to date, I’ve never used in public because I think they look so stupid on people. But that’s another issue…) However, I try mightily to NOT inflict my personal (and private!) conversations on the rest of the world. Why is it that so few people these days have any sensitivity to this issue? Why is it so generally acceptable to talk on the phone wherever you are?

For me: I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the “cell-phone voice” that I know immediately when I hear it. For example, I’m in a coffee shop reading a newspaper, with the normal background hum of voices and activity. Then, a person a table or two away takes or makes a call, and before I even look up to confirm, I know that voice . It’s somebody talking on their phone. Dang, is this annoying, or what!?

My new hair stylist here in Roseburg informed me that some salons are requiring clients to check their phones at the desk before services are begun. I haven’t heard of this practice anywhere myself, but, for one, I would support it. I’d simply leave my phone in the car. What? I can’t wait a half-hour to make a call? And, I support the movement of some places like movie theatres to install technology that block cell-phones from working. Now that would be a giant leap forward for mankind.

I’m back from the quick visit I made to America’s Dairyland. The trip from rural southern Oregon to rural northern Wisconsin is a long and rather arduous one (two drives and two or three flights each way) and I did it twice in three days. Whew!

Doing this trip coincident with moving from one city to another (and dealing with the anticipation of a new job) has stretched me physically and emotionally, but I seem to be hangin’ in there ok. Mostly.

Of course, I went back to spend just a little bit of time with dad, who, at 92+ years of age, is in declining health. His life these days seems to be characterized a lot by the terms “good day” and “bad day.” The Saturday afternoon I spent with him, along with my mom and siblings, seemed to be on the order of a good day. And, it was good for me to be able to spend even just one more afternoon with him.

This has me thinking that my life, and well, come to think of it, everybody’s life, can be divided up into the good-day/bad-day categories. Doesn’t it seem that way? It’s just that “reality” for each of us is so different, that what constitutes a disaster of a day for one person could be a walk-in-the-park for another.

I suppose that a lot of my bad days are self-created, and not externally-determined (as are dad’s, as his body slowly declines). Even when things are mostly falling into place for me, I know that I have the tendency to complain and whine and generally make myself miserable. I know that my attachment to having the universe be one way or another leads to the suffering I experience. Although I believe that “life is suffering,” I also believe that it would be healthier for me to be less invested in a model of a world that simply does not exist.

Starting today, I’m taking four days off from this unpacking regimen I’ve been following. It will be good to have a little break from the ceaseless routine, physical demands, and stress of opening, putting away, opening, putting away.

I had a fairly productive day yesterday and worked to the point where a lot of the garbage is out of sight. (It’s not all necessarily gone, but at least I found a place to recycle all the newsprint packing material.) I’m making a quick visit back to my point of origin (Wisconsin) this weekend, and I believe that when I return home here on Sunday night, I won’t be overwhelmed by the condition of my living space. (Not that 28 unopened boxes of books in the living room are pretty to look at, but at least they’re all semi-organized along the walls.)

I’ve been wondering how I’ll eventually adapt to small-town life. For now, everything seems to be going ok; but, then, I haven’t made very many demands of the place. Most everyone I’ve met here has been exceptionally friendly. A couple of strangers even said hi to me at Fred Meyer this last week. Interesting. Wow. And, my downstairs neighbor left a map of the area and some local statistical information on my doorstep.

From the modest size and number of recycling bins here at the apartment complex, and information I was able to find on the web, it would appear that the town has a ways to go in terms of environmental responsibility; but, then, I may be missing something. I went to the Kinko’s website to see where the local copy facility might be, and discovered that the nearest one is my ol’ shop on Willamette Street in Eugene. Oh well, I’ll find someplace else.

I went downtown for a haircut yesterday, and discovered that not only could I find a parking spot: it was free! I also paid less than half for my haircut here than I did in Portland at a comparable salon.

I think there are going to be several mental adjustments I’ll be needing to make here as I continue this part of my journey. Stay tuned.

Apparently, when signing up for this lifetime, I raised my hand for the full-meal-deal. Sometimes stuff can keep happening that pretty much will take your breath away; the past two and a half years have been a lot like that for me. As much as I remind myself to take care of myself, to walk, to write, to breathe, and to not panic: I still can wind up exhausted, depressed, and conflicted about my life, my direction, and my decisions.

That’s the negative emotional space I’m in this evening, anyway; I’m rather in a funk as I compose this little note. I suppose it’s not been helpful that for five straight nights I was kept awake by the inhabitants of this neighborhood with their absurdly-loud and persistent fireworks. Simply: I’m beyond exhausted. I went for a walk this afternoon but, literally, had a difficult time putting one foot in front of the other.

And, I’m anxious. There’s too much to do. Even without an office to go to this month, my to-do list is ridiculously long and involved.

I’m scheduled to move from Portland to Roseburg next week. This will be my second major move in two years, both times the result of job losses. At the moment, my current landlords are expecting their house back; the movers are scheduled, confirmed and re-confirmed; and the new apartment complex down south awaits my money and my occupancy.

I’ve been living in a maze of cardboard boxes since the beginning of June. I knew I was going to move, even before I knew where I was going, so I got started in on the packing early. More or less, I have lived in a campsite for more than a month.

After reading an email note from my mom yesterday, indicating that my dad had had a good day, I was feeling rather relieved. He is seriously ailing, and now resides in a nursing home. I had learned earlier that he was dealing with a case of pancreatitis, and ever since then his condition has been up and down, up and down. The serious nature of his situation led, after discharge from the hospital, to residence in a “convalescent center” (i.e., a nursing home).

So, a report of a good day was a good thing to hear. However, my sister called me this afternoon to say that that day may have been good, but things, overall, are not. He keeps slipping and slipping, and today, for the first time ever, apparently, asked mom if she would be OK if he weren’t around. From what I can tell (from this distance and frequency of contact), my 92-year-old dad has pretty much been in denial about the possibility of his own death until just recently.

He is not eating, has been losing weight for some time, and we really don’t know how much time he has left. The guess is: not much.

For me: I am overwhelmed with feelings of loss: of jobs; of friends; of computer hard drives; of cities, places and homes; of things familiar; of a significant other; of my own health; of sleep; of control; and, now, likely, of a parent.

I feel a weight pressing down on me, and I wish it would lighten up a tad. The probability that that will happen anytime soon, seems remote.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Love of mine some day you will die
But I’ll be close behind
I’ll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no’s on their vacancy signs

If there’s no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark…

(“I Will Follow You Into The Dark” – Death Cab for Cutie)