Wanting Elvis to Leave the Building – Or Why is a Conch Shell in My Ear?

For a week or more, I have had a conch shell in my right ear. The doctor called it an ear infection and said the ear is blocked with fluid, but I know the sound of the sea in a conch shell when I hear it. Sorry doc.
Now the sound of the sea is romantic. But with a conch shell I can put it down when I’ve had enough romance and use my ear for other things. But having an actual conch shell living in my ear is not working out. Do you know how hard it is to practice clarinet with just one good ear? (Ok, never mind that I still play sharp with two good ears. Working on it.)
So this thing has to go. And soon. There are a number of theories about how to remove the conch shell. The doc favors antibiotics. Only problem: who decided all antibiotic pills have to be the actual diameter of my throat? Choking to death is not an option for getting well. So just like any pediatric victim of an ear infection, I have a brown bottle of cherry flavored liquid and a squirting teaspoon dispenser. So far the results from option one are not stellar.
Option two. Holistic healing. Being a fan of Louise Hay, when some part of my otherwise reliable physical self is on the blink, I run for You Can Heal Your Life. I admit to loving the entire story of this book. Overcoming the odds and optimism. And I met Ms. Hay once in person and was totally charmed. But, the truth is, the chart in the back of symptoms and affirmations is a hypochondriac’s dream. (Don’t I wish the conch shell in my ear were just hypochondria. I’d have it out of there in a heart beat. Or thought beat, I guess.) (Notice cool use of the subjunctive to demonstrate the conch is not hypochondria. Only English majors even remember what a subjunctive is.)
Anyway, according to the chart, I developed this annoying symptom, not to romance the sea in my ear, but because I am “Angry. Not wanting to hear. Too much turmoil and my parents are arguing.” Well, if I am angry, I have no idea why. I do want to hear. Any yes, my parents were champion arguers but one of them has been dead for more than thirty years, and I haven’t lived with the other one for even longer.  Granted she is probably is still arguing alone,  but I can’t hear her with either ear.
But a good affirmation or two can’t hurt. So I am chanting, “Harmony surrounds me. I listen with love to the pleasant and the good. I am a center for love.” I like the last one, a lot. And after chanting these at least once, the conch vanished for about three minutes. Really. Like Elvis, it left the building. But not for long. So now I am an antibiotic swigging, chanting host to a conch shell in my ear. Perks: cherry taste of the med, and feeling good when I say “I am a center for love.” Downside: well, we know that one.
Option three. The Abraham-Hicks approach: that which you dwell on gets bigger. So DON’T THINK ABOUT IT. Kind of difficult when you are trying to HEAR, but I’m game.
Option four and final option for now: Go fill up the bathroom with steam from the shower and breath it to open my sinuses and hopefully, my ear.  Hey, it’s pleasant, harmless, and tasteless, and I can chant while I don’t think about the ocean roaring in my ear! And I can light the lavender candle to banish the anger I didn’t know I had. (Still skeptical about that one.) Will let you know when Elvis leaves the building for good.
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Change – The Zone of Discomfort

Several years ago, my youngest child headed off to college, and I was left to contemplate the change in my life now that all three of my children were away at school. Right away, I noticed that the word “change” was like a prism with many sides, refracting life instead of light in multiple directions. The more I thought about “change” the more I realized I didn’t really understand what it meant. Oh, I got understood the kind of “change” that outside forces compress onto our lives. Time is an example. Time had grown up my children and changed them into adults who didn’t live at home any more. I hadn’t asked for that “change” or attempted to create it, but it arrived on its own, nonetheless. And I accepted it cheerfully and asked, “What’s next?”
But “what’s next” appeared to have more to do with me than the outside force of “change” that had created my empty nest. The change that time brought by giving me adults in place of children was not going to also bring a new goal and a new meaning into my life. I had to make that “change” happen myself. And that’s when I realized how many times I had set off on the road of “change,” and nothing happened. Why? I’m a very disciplined person. Multiple graduate degrees, and I run my own business. Surely I knew how to create “change” when I wanted to. But the truth was, I didn’t. The word “change” was an empty box I didn’t know how to fill up with meaning. So I began an experiment to understand the nature of the “change” that starts inside and eventually manifests in the outer world. Or at least is expected to manifest in the outer world.
I have studied clarinet most of my life, and I am always trying to be a better musician; so this looked like a fertile area to study the nature of “change.” I had long needed to make some “changes” in the position of my jaw, lips and teeth on the mouthpiece. In musical terms, my embouchure needed to “change.” So one day, I sat with the instrument and repositioned everything the way my teacher had been telling me to do for some time. The new way I was holding the mouthpiece in my mouth felt awkward and uncomfortable, but I was sure I’d have a fabulous, deep clarinet sound the moment I pushed air through this new set up. But I didn’t! In fact, I sounded the way I had on the very first day I had picked up the horn, too many years ago to count. So, automatically, I shifted back to the old embouchure, and then realized why I didn’t know what “change” was. “Change” involved sticking with discomfort. If I wanted to be a better player, I’d have to keep doing this new embouchure over and over until it became comfortable, and until it gave me the results I was seeking. If I didn’t want to get better, I could just stay with the old way and avoid “change.” And then I knew why I hadn’t really understood the meaning of “change” from within because as soon as a”change” I was trying to make became uncomfortable, I’d slip right back into the old way, often without even noticing. I had thought I was “changing” but I wasn’t.
Since that moment of enlightenment, I have put my theory of the meaning of “change” to lots of different tests. And sure enough, the moment I apply myself to a “change” I want to create, I immediately encounter the “Zone of Discomfort.” But now I’m prepared for it; and, if it is a “change” I really want to bring about, I stay in the zone until I’ve gotten my results, and I’ve created the “change” I wanted to create. Knowing that I need to prepare for the rocky start that “change” brings with it, helps me focus on getting the results I’m seeking. And it also helps me evaluate whether a proposed “change” is one I truly want to bring about. Sometimes I try new things and learn they are not for me. Going back to the old way is just fine. But functioning from my new understanding of how to cause change from within has enriched my journey and allowed me to put meaning into the empty box of that used to be the word “change.” More about the journey of change and setting new goals next time.

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