Guest Opinion: Wisdom Workout


Approach with Curiosity

Susan Velasquez

Some time ago, I discovered a book titled: “The Power Behind Your Eyes.” It talked of the need to rest our eyes from the task of looking so that we can see more fully those things we miss due to the unconscious habit of hypervigilance.

The corrective changes ran the gamut from diet and exercise to relinquishing the habit of over-indulging in “too.” Too long at the computer, too little light, too little sleep and basically, too relentless a hold on our rigid way of perceiving the world around us.

I decided to try one of the easiest and more appealing suggestions. The directions were to put the palms of my hands over my eyes while visualizing in my mind’s eye something particularly beautiful and energy-giving.

The result of doing this simple exercise, whenever I remember, has yielded valuable rewards. Whenever I do this, the predominant experience is a warmth that centers around my eyes and then extends and deepens into a slight, then increasing feeling of sadness that sometimes brings a few captured and hidden tears to the surface.

The moisture is warm and soft and little. It doesn’t morph into a downpour but just lets its presence be known as a little gift of unexpressed tenderness and acknowledgment that my eyes have been witness to the fleeting pain, disappointment, tragedy, confusion, frustration, anxiety, fear or exhaustion that is housed in many of the daily experiences we encounter.

It came as a surprise that I was hosting unacknowledged and unexpressed sadness. The second time it surfaced again, it brought a visual remembrance of my friend Cate and my last visit with her two days before she died. Time and time again, sadness has come to visit. I am learning to look forward to the particular quiet and empty space that seems to be the welcoming mat for this sensation that I am naming sad. My mind tries to jump in with the too-loud and demanding “Why are you sad?” question that sends sad scurrying undercover like a child in the presence of a thunder and lightning storm.

I take a few in-and-out breaths and disengage from the mental questioning to let myself sink into the quiet behind my eyes. Sure enough, as I do, I once again sense the slow, sensuous spreading of gentle warmth that begins to bring moisture and a lessening of pressure so that I can experience a decided softening and a feeling of rightness and homecoming.

In case you think that this little flight of fancy might indicate that I have too much time on my hands. Instead, I suspect I am on the verge of a new personal discovery.

As I court the company of unexpressed tenderness, I feel a gentle but persistent shift happening. I can feel a certain innocence returning to my ability to see. It is the sense of a returning spark of enthusiasm and faith in the beauty and magnificence of all aspects of life that surrounds me.

It is a new awakening back into the simplicity of clear-sightedness that acknowledges the underpinnings of belief in the basic goodness of my life in all its twists, turns, ups and downs.

I feel a new opening to the door marked contentment and happiness of being that sits waiting for an opening to deliver its gifts of fullness and richness through the acceptance of the way things are, just as is.

Susan is a local writer and the author of: Beyond Intellect: Journey into the Wisdom of Your Intuitive Mind.

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