Thursday, January 08, 2015

With Eyes That Know the Darkness in My Soul

Recently I read a story in the newspaper about a man who married and then immediately went to war. He took with him a black and white photograph of his wife. He had someone paint an oil picture from the photo, and he proudly presented it to his bride upon his return.

Alas, he had told the painter the woman's eyes were brown, and they were blue. So the painting sat in a closet for years.

The eyes are said to be the windows of the soul. Mine, apparently, hide nothing. My husband tells me he can tell how bad my pain is just from looking in my eyes. He can tell when I am deep in thought, or when I am longing for a hug, or when I'm tired.

They tell him everything.

But when, after reading that story, I asked him what color my eyes are, he hesitated. "They're blue and then they're green," he said, finally.

My eyes are hazel, and he's right. They change colors as often as I change my mind. Generally they look blue because I wear blue, but if I wear gray, they look like a cloudy day. If I wear green, they become a forest.

His eyes are blue, a nice, calming blue. His eyes laugh a lot and he seldom shows any other emotion there. Not everyone's eyes are expressive, I suppose. Some people show their emotion in their body language, the set of their lips, the terseness of their voice, or in their mannerisms. Apparently, I show it in my eyes.

When was the last time you looked into someone's eyes. I mean really looked? You can tell so much when you spend time just gazing at someone's face. With all the texting and head-down stuff we're doing these days, our eyes transfixed not upon other human beings but upon screens, I wonder what non-verbal language we are losing. Will the language of the eyes be lost? Will there be eyes that know when a soul feels dark and lonely?

How sad it sounds to think that people will be hurting and aching and no one will know unless the person sends out a text that says so. What does that say about us, about our empathy, and our ability to connect? Is this why we have so much me me me going on the social media sites? Because how else can we connect now, if we don't tell, when no one is actually looking at us?

I saw one of those little sayings on Facebook the other day that said this: Dance like nobody's watching . . . 'cause they're not, they're busy texting.

Now isn't that a sad truth?

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