See no evil
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Over the weekend it became physically necessary for me to spend time with others with my eyes closed. Long story short (because this isn't what this post is about) on Saturday morning, I squirted Dr. Bronner's Lavender soap directly into my eye. Undiluted. It was painful. Excruciatingly painful. I attempted to care for it but it got increasingly worse as the day progressed, despite my continued eye flushing. However, I was unwilling to take myself out of the fun equation (because Sharon is a self-proclaimed "fun machine" and I have to admit...it's true) so I continued to participate in a large portion of Saturday's activities despite the fact that it pained me to see.
The point iiiiiiiiiiiiiis that over the weekend I spent extended periods of time with others with my eyes closed. No big deal. Right? Wrong.
Interestingly enough, I found it to be a very big deal. I know that it is said that when you lose one of your senses, be it temporarily or permanently, your others become stronger. It didn't feel that way for me. Perhaps it was because I was so uncomfortable that everything just started to fade away. The first time I closed my eyes was at lunch. There were four of us at the table and I was sitting in between two people. I got to the point where I realized I was far more comfortable with both eyes closed completely, so this is what I did. And all of a sudden, I felt outrageously removed from the same exact situation that I'd been in milliseconds earlier. In a pure physical sense, I literally couldn't hear the conversation as well. And from an emotional standpoint, it felt like I was eavesdropping. I truly felt like I was no longer a part of the group that I was sitting with. Simply because I couldn't see them.
I pried my eyes open and immediately was jolted back into a sense of belonging. And a sense of pain...so I closed my eyes again and sat with it.
Throughout the remainder of the weekend, I chose to close my eyes at moments. At one point, I was alone with another person...just the two of us...and so I knew that their words were directed to me. I still felt involved. But when we were in a group, I continually felt removed.
Several things have struck me about this, not the least of which is how grateful I am for all of my senses. Although I'd like to believe that I'm not the kind of person to take things for granted, the truth is that I do. I think that most of us tend to take things that are our "norm" for granted. And sight has certainly always been my norm. I've lost my appetite at times or my sense of smell (and consequently my sense of taste) because of a cold. But I've never had my sight taken away from me without CHOOSING to give it up. And I've never thought about it in this way. Of course you think about the beauty of the world that you have the opportunity to see every day...but I never thought about how it would effect me in other ways. Probably because I had no idea how it would effect me in other ways. I could have never imagined that not being able to see would leave me feeling removed from a conversation or a moment. And I find it both fascinating and humbling that it did.
Further, what is striking me as I'm writing in this moment is the fact that I'm not always the best listener. When I have something to say, I feel the urge to say it RIGHT THEN. I don't know if I feel scared that I'm going to lose my thought or if I just feel the need to be heard. I have become increasingly aware of this habit of mine. But this past weekend I was essentially forced to listen. Something about looking at a person makes me feel more freedom to interrupt. But I wasn't looking at anyone and so I lost that feeling. And I'm thinking that this is something that I should work very hard to take with me from this point forward.
I've often talked about listening more. In my head, I know it's much more valuable than talking. But old habits die hard. I think it's time to kill this one. To really see each person as I hear what they say - and to recognize that being able to experience them fully - to see them, to hear them, to feel their energy - is a gift. One that shouldn't be taken for granted.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:54 PM
Labels: life lessons
