When I came home from the hospital after I was born, I was greeted by my sister who is two years older than me. She was Deaf. No one knew it at the time, but she wasn’t connecting to the three older brothers and sister that she already had or the sonic chaos that she was immersed in. She had not begun to make words - something that usually happens around 12 months. She was living in a silent, non-verbal world and instead of feeling pushed out of my mother’s arms when I arrived, she was relieved to no longer be alone. I entered her profound, silent space. On some level, she saw that I was for her.
Two years later, they would put tubes in her ears and she would begin to hear and soon after that, begin to talk. I too ended up getting the second round of tubes with her. I don’t think my ears were ever as affected as hers, but we did tend to need things at the same time.
We both went on to get BFAs in Modern Dance from SUNY Purchase. We became masters of non-verbal communication. We grew up intertwined - some might say immeshed.
In my one-on-one Creative Journey practice, I hold space for people who want transformation in nature. Much of what I do is hold space in silence. So often, in the hearing world, we have to be alone to experience silence…to turn off the endless streams of words coming at us. In my practice, I stay with people in silence, letting them have the space to explore their inner landscapes without being pummeled by words and yet, not being abandoned either. Maybe I am giving them the gift I was given at the beginning of my life when I came home to a Deaf sister.