(from Mind the Light)
Light: Without it we die. Physically.Spiritually.
Our
very lives depend on light for photosynthesis—energy from sunlight that
converts into adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the fuel used by all living things.
That’s why sunflowers track the sun across the sky, sea otters bask while
floating in the ocean, and I look for an excuse to go to Florida in January.
All God’s creatures move toward the light—flowers, trees, people. Light is
constant and ever present. At least that’s what we assume. Then the power goes
out or a month of clouds rolls in. We grumble and moan and whine until the
light comes back.
But
even more than physically, we respond to illumination emotionally and
spiritually. Light—depending on its strength, tone, slant—changes how we
perceive the world and people. Light sets a Midwestern sunset apart from a
Western desert sunset, a Goya portrait from a John Singer Sargent portrait, and
a joyful spirit apart from a mournful one. Yet even though light is all around
us, we often don’t notice it and the difference it can make in our souls.
That’s where an old Quaker saying—“Mind the Light”—offers help. “Mind” in this
case means many things—including heed, tend, notice, observe, and obey. Minding
the Light is a way of deep seeing.
I
need help seeing. I’ve been nearsighted since high school and joined the
bifocaled folks when I turned forty. I’m also diabetic. That means I go to my
optometrist annually and have my eyes thoroughly checked. At a recent
examination, Dr. Groninger talked me into trying contact lenses.
I
liked the immediate results. I looked days younger with them—so much younger I
considered getting a toupee and dyeing my beard. But I had trouble reading. I
saw faraway stuff. But not near. The first day I went out to lunch with people
from the office and picked up the check. That’s about all I did, because I
couldn’t read it. I had to trust a coworker to fill in the amount for the tip.
So
I went back to the doctor. She made an adjustment. Much better. I could read.
But then I started driving. My distance was blurrier. Another week and I was
back. “What do you think?” Dr. Groninger asked. “Well, I like not messing with
glasses. I like the freedom. But I’m still having trouble— now it’s distance.”
“Let’s try modified monovision.” She explained that she was going to power up
my left eye for reading and my right eye for distance. “Oh, we’re going to
trick my brain, huh?”
“Not
really,” she said. Then she explained that sight already tricks our brains. We
favor one eye over the other all the time, based on what our needs are. If
we’re in a concert and someone with a big hat sits in front of us, the eye that
can see the show tells the brain, “Hey, pay attention here and forget that
hat.” And we do. So now I’m learning to see in a new way and tell my brain what
to pay attention to.
The
poet Tess Gallagher writes:
My
father loved first light.
He
would sit alone
at
the yellow formica table
in
the kitchen with his coffee cup
and
sip and look out . . .
My
father picks up his
cup.
Light is sifting in
like
a gloam of certainty
over
the water. He knows
something
there in the half light
he
can’t know any other way.
That’s
what Mind the Light is about: A way to learn things in the light, whether at
Formica tables with coffee cups or quietly reading a spiritual memoir or in the
middle of our workaday world. Minding the Light adds a further dimension to
eyes and brain: our souls. It helps us pay attention to God’s Light around us
and in us. How we see our lives changes as this illumination leads us to a deep
appreciation of the soulful things of life. Minding the Light is an invitation
to experience a new way of seeing that shows our brains and souls what to pay
attention to. It’s a way of seeing our inner and outer lives with spiritual
eyes and discovering the connectedness between inner and outer sight.
Throughout
Mind the Light you’ll encounter boxed text labeled “Illuminating Moments.”
These are meant as brief exercises in Minding the Light. Illuminating Moments
are based on the Quaker practice of asking Queries. The Religious Society of
Friends (as Quakers are officially known) have used Queries for almost 350
years as a way to examine our souls, seek clarity, and gain spiritual insight.
Queries are a practice that can be used by anyone looking for God’s Light in
life. The Illuminating Moments in this book are not about mystical experiences
of God, though they may occur. As you read the Illuminating Moments, let your
mind and soul fill with words, ideas, or images. Using the Light of God inside
and outside you, look deeply into the Holy.
Learning
to Mind the Light is CPR for the soul. It’s an encounter that will save your
light.
************
the above is an excerpt from Mind the Light: Learning to See with Spiritual Eyes which is now available for $2.99 on Kindle. You can download a free sample chapter!
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