Living with eyes wide open
So rarely do we live with eyes wide open. Most of the time, our field of vision is masked by a murky screen of remembrance, taking us out of the physical world and into the world of thought. Here, we dance between our own narrative of happenstance and an endless dialogue of never-ending and perpetually unrelated tasks, concerns, and daydreams.
Every mailbox on the street is instead acknowledged as the conglomerate of mailbox memories. I see it and for a moment, I do not see what’s in front of me, but rather a rolodex of every mailbox I’ve owned, touched, hit, or admired. For a moment I am not here, but rather somewhere completely nonexistent. In the case of the mailbox, there is little concern. But now imagine the same framework applied to everything you see — every car, every cat, every friend. This is not even to begin the conversation surrounding unconscious biases, but instead to stress a singular point: we aren’t here. Or better perhaps, we are here and our eyes are tightly shut.
Imagine a moment when you entered a room for the first time. Note how you took in the color of the paint on the walls, the carefully placed decor, and the scent that filled the air. Think back to how you absorbed the energy of those in this room. Eyes wide open. Now imagine every visit that follows. Quickly the tasteful decor fades into the background, and your physical presence in the room played a secondary role to the thoughts winding through your head. Soon your receptors weaken. So quickly your eyes are clamped shut.
Perhaps at this point you find yourself asking the question, “so what?” The answer is likely different for many, and only compelling to some. I’ve come to find that my suffering comes most from a roaming mind when left to its own devices. Similarly, I’ve found that the greatest things in life — namely feelings of connection, abundance, creativity, and joy — are all created in the present moment. Better said, they are all children of presence. If you do not suffer by way of your own thoughts nor do you experience a shortage of the aqformationed “greatest things in life,” then I commend you. Joyful one, this message is not for you. But for those who yearn for something better and lighter than the life they’re living, or rather those who are seeking freedom from themselves, look no further than right in front of you.
How simple it seems. Notice— simply notice — what is in front of you. Take it in with curiosity and lack of judgement. This practice, though simple in terms, is often difficult in consistent practice.
A method I’ve adopted is to tap into the consciousness of my deceased cat. What? Yes, you read that correctly. I don’t mean literally, though I’d be willing to hear anyone out who claims that to be possible. Instead, I take this on as a figurative exercise. If I were Phoebe, the beloved cat in question, how would I be seeing the world around me? As a cat, I don’t speak English (or any other human language) and so my mind can’t be clouded with a winding narrative. I won’t be walking down the street, consumed with judgements concerning what I ate today and how it affects my fitness journey and my sexual appeal. Of course not. I will feel the sunshine on my back. Fluttering birds will capture my attention but only for a second. Weeds resiliently bursting through concrete cracks will summon me close. I will be in it all. This method may not be for you, but even so, I encourage you to find one that is.
Moments are fleeting whether you are in them or not. And so, even if only for a moment, try to keep your eyes wide open.
