Slow MoverThe Third Sight
If there are storms in the night that I did not hear, did they appear? They were predicted but did not wake me.
As a child, I would put my hands over my eyes and say, “You can’t see me.” What is this need to discount what I can not see with my own eyes?
Not – I think therefore I am. Rather, I see. Therefore, the world, the other, you, exist.
The eyes are indeed a light. But vision is more than the jumbled contents of an optometrist’s eye chart.
Can second sight be learned? Or is it a gift given to a few?
I wonder if there is a third sight – the ability to see beyond the veil and yet not be blind to what is right in front of us.
For inner sight, divorced from physical existence, is merely narcissistic navel gazing. And vice versa, incessant attention to the outer without inner reflection is tantamount to the blind leading the blind.
Some blindness is healed gradually. Some immediately after the laying on of hands. Some after the smearing on of spit and mud.
Some of us never have our sight restored.
Awareness acknowledges that things are not always what they appear.
And that I am always in need of clearer sight.
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