Sight

October 21, 2019

Greetings from the awareness,

Some time ago I had a conversation with a friend, one of those moments you’ve probably had, talking across a dinner table or over a cup of coffee.  Sifting through things you have in common and then pinging into ideas or challenges or questions.  We played a version of that game ‘Would you rather…’  Which led us to: which of the senses would you miss the most if you lost it?  For me that was easy.

Yesterday, I was out running, long before dawn.  It was overcast, no moon.  I carried lights so I wouldn’t step on walnuts or into potholes, or whatever else waited to derail me.  After a while, out in the open farmlands, I turned off the lights and floated along in the dark. 

It only took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, to adapt to only the ambient light.  In that flicker of time I was reminded of that conversation, and how I would never want to lose my sight.  The world went dark for a minute, and being able to smell the earth, feel the dampness, hear my footfall, was not enough.  The world came back slowly and only so far as the hour would allow.  I could make out some of my surroundings, but everything was gray, and the rest vanished into black.

The traditional five senses that bring the world to us are sight, smell, hearing, touch and taste.

If you ask some people, they would add proprioception, also the sense of time passing, the sense of balance, the sense of heat and pain.  However you slice it, it is the body’s way of connecting with what our reality is.

Others would add the extra sensory perception.  I’ll admit I am skeptical here, but occasionally I am conscious of something, a presence, that there is no way to explain through the other senses.  Maybe it is a kind of intuition, but it seems to me be another form of awareness.  Like when you feel like someone is watching you and you look around, and no one is there.  Whatever that is.

Our awareness becomes a large part of who we are.  We sense our existence in this way.  We are in our heads too, thinking and creating and imagining, but most of what we are given in this life is through the senses.  Who we are, how we feel about our place in the world, starts with these perceptions.

I remember a few times in my life where I was suddenly terrified I’d lose my sight.  Once when working under a car and a chunk of rust fell into my eyes.  Another time when my optometrist was looking into my eyes and said “Hmm..” and then paused a little too long. 

I know people who are losing their vision, and others who are blind.  I know they adapt, and life becomes different, but they live on with a new perspective.  That doesn’t change my answer.  Of all my senses I would miss my sight the most if I lost it. I realize more every day that I need the light and all it shines on.

When I was six miles into my run I stopped on the edge of the road and let the morning surround me.  The sound of my breath, the feel of the damp clothes on my skin, the feel of the morning air teasing the sweat.  There was a rich smell of the farms, fallow now, but still full of life.  And I looked east, where the light should be coming from. 

There was a bold strip of red-orange creasing the horizon, just a narrow place between tree line and the clouds above.  The blue sky seeped between the muscled clouds rippling above the slowly wakening dawn.  I felt all of that and saw that beauty and it sealed it in me.  These eyes, this miraculous part of my body, connects me with all of creation.  In that moment I closed my eyes and then slowly opened them and learned again what it is like to see.

The jagged edge of the Tetons against the cerulean dome.  Sunset on the pacific.  A winding road disappearing over a hill, daring me to follow.  The light on my eyelids as I wake up, calling me to be part of the day.  Watching my family celebrating together.  Reading the thousands of books that brought other ideas and rooms and worlds to me.  The smile of a friend I haven’t seen in too long.  Countless mornings where I saw the sun start the day.  Yellow flowers, verdant trees, sparkling rivers, and the blue over everything, in everything.  I knew I could never write all the beauty I have seen with these eyes, but it’s a start, and I won’t stop. 

I love seeing this world.  I wrote that so I would never take it for granted. 

Which of the senses would you miss the most if you lost it?  You might wonder why ask the question at all.  Perhaps it’s just something to season a conversation.  But it also has convicted me, reminded me of something I value so intensely. 

You have time today.  Go stand outside in whatever beauty surrounds you and then close your eyes and try to imagine never seeing any of it again.  Then open your eyes and be grateful for the gift. 

Before I go, here is a question that came to me as I sit here re-living all the beautiful and amazing moments I have seen in my life.  Would you rather…lose your vision, or your memory?

Hope this finds you seeing clearly,

David

Copyright © 2019 David Smith