Sometimes, I get impatient for a cure for blindness. And I think, “But hasn’t blindness taught you patience?”
Sometimes, I get confused. I ask, “If you want a cure, does that mean you’re doing a lousy job of acceptance? Hope all you want; learn Braille in the meantime.”
When I was early into blindness, I would have elbowed aside small children and Ray Charles to get to the cure. Now, most days, I feel comfortable in my own skin. Part of comfort is familiarity. Another part is coming to like myself. Yet a third is coming to know there is indeed a different way of seeing.
I’m learning to see with my heart. Blindness messed up a lot of things in my life. But there was truth in it that I needed to know. To learn that eyesight is my physical sense. To learn that vision is my spiritual self. I see, whether my eyes do or not.
The truth I needed to learn was not about my blindness but about me. I don’t always enjoy the scrutiny. Willingness comes and goes
Blindness is a loss on a human level. And, damn it, it hurts. At the same time, I know that it doesn’t really matter. I see concepts, qualities. As much as I would love to see my wife’s warm smile and laughing eyes, with my heart I see her goodness. We connect. Differently than before, but isn’t that what life is all about?
As I cope with blindness, I want to be all that I can be. But I already am all that I can be.
In this experience that we’re having right now on earth, we are limited. We are so limited. But a part of me knows that I am not. And mine plays out in my ability to see beyond my eyesight.