You know how people will sometimes say, “Look me in the eye?” I’m not crazy about that expression, but I get why it matters. I pay attention when someone can’t look at me. And actually, I notice even more when I can’t look at another. Something’s amiss. But how often is it that we look ourselves in the eye? I did today.
I had my yearly optometry exam. Now, more astigmatism later, I have a new prescription for Toric lenses; apparently more adaptable to my beyond-heavy time in front of this computer and ever-creeping age. I don’t mind these exams. The doctor is super nice, it’s relatively quick, and totally painless. (I do always wonder though, what I actually look like when those large “glasses” are placed over my eyes and adjustment after adjustment is made. Quite silly, I’m sure.)
There is one part of the exam, toward the end, in which the doctor is looking at the shape of my eye. I have to peer through into a particular piece of equipment where all I can see is my eye – perfectly centered in the lens – looking right back at me. And today it struck me: my eyes have seen so much, they have taken in so many experiences and sensations, they have cried so many tears – both in laughter and sadness. And truly, today, they looked beautiful to me. Clear. Hazel-ish blue. Wide-open. Alert.
I thought about how much of my life I have “looked” at myself with contempt: never good enough, pretty enough, popular enough…or the fated opposite of thinking I’m too much. It made me wonder how sad my own eyes have looked on at my own self-hate. It also made me wonder what my eyes have actually seen…things I don’t even remember, that I’ve tried to forget, or that I just missed because I was preoccupied with my own pain, my own struggles, my own pathologies. I know: I can’t segment myself out like that, but the concept works. My eyes have seen more than I know. They have seen me in ways I cannot know.
What if we saw ourselves as our own eyes did? Undoubtedly, we have far more kindness and compassion for ourselves. We would we see ourselves as beautiful, worth loving, worth being loved. Lovely.
And what’s more, if I can let my eyes see me as I most truly am, won’t I also be far more able to let them see others in equally gracious, grace-filled ways? Yes. Lovely.
I looked myself in the eye today. I have been seen – by myself. Lovely.
I want to be able, as days go by, always to look myself straight in the eye. (Edgar Guest)
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