Wednesday, August 08, 2012


If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would it be?

I used to think I wouldn't mind if I lost my sight. I had poor vision before I got LASIK surgery, and back then a small joy of life was taking off my glasses and letting the world fuzz out each night. The world can be ugly. Losing sight of it seemed a blessing.

I love music too much to tolerate being deaf. Good food is too dear a commodity to not vigorously enjoy. Few things are finer than an evocative scent: steak seared to perfection, summer rain on hot pavement, skin lightly touched by perfume.

(And, of course, bacon.)

But sight? I've seen things I can't forget, and sometimes my brain calls up those visual memories for playback. At those moments I wish Dr. Mierzwiak's machine was real; I would gladly sign a contract to have someone vacuum out the memories.

The past couple days have been a blur of late nights and bleak restlessness. I'm learning how to stay quiet so I won't make waves. The inner introvert is (quietly) roaring to the fore, telling rondavis to hush his big mouth and pay attention to the world. I must listen.

I must see.

It's the only way to accept what is and what must be. I don't like the sights and sounds of reality, but what I like isn't important right now. Being selfish doesn't work; it is, in fact, counterproductive and corrosive. It ruins the best-laid foundations for the future. When you're selfish it all falls down.

This week I've experienced the benefits of being able to see without blinders or lenses made of rose-colored glass. It is, admittedly, a jarring vision, and I'm thankful for good old instinct, the thing that keeps me from plucking out my big baby browns. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. Not having eyes wouldn't keep me from seeing reality.

The newborn pictured in this post had no idea his life would become so ... interesting (or interdasting, for those of you smirking at home). Had that infant known what was in store he would have wished for a Helen Keller kind of life, baby, baby. Behind the badass mask, deep inside he's a chicken-shit coward. He'd rather live in the land of hopes, wishes, and dreams (and Oxford commas).

He'd rather not see.

But life insists. Clouds dim the skies. The storm hits. The earth hardens. I look up and let the rain fill my eyes.

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