We do not simply see.
We see through.
Our lives are shaped by lenses,
quiet, invisible companions
resting upon the eyes of the heart.
They are formed slowly,
like coral beneath Caribbean waters,
layer upon layer of memory,
culture, belief, fatigue, desire.
Some are polished by faith,
others clouded by fear.
Some sharpen truth,
others bend it,
until what is before us
is no longer what it is.
Like eyeglasses crafted to correct the eye,
these inner lenses claim to bring clarity.
Yet not all correction is true vision.
At times, they distort
subtly, convincingly,
until we mistake reaction for reality.
Consider a weary ride home after work.
The body is tired.
The spirit stretched thin.
A car ahead is slow and hesitant.
Immediately, something rises within:
impatience, irritation, judgment.
The horn becomes a voice,
sharp, insistent,
demanding the world to move faster
to match the unrest within.
Then a glimpse:
an elderly woman at the wheel.
But the lens has already spoken.
It has named her the obstacle,
inconvenience, and delay,
What we see
is not only what is there.
It is what we carry.
And so the deeper question emerges:
Which lens am I using?
For there is a lens of exhaustion
that magnifies annoyance.
A lens of fear
that breeds control.
A lens of love
that waits, listens, understands.
Discernment begins here,
not in changing the world first,
but in noticing the eye through which we behold it.
To pause.
To ask.
To become aware.
And in that sacred awareness,
something shifts.
The lens loosens.
The heart softens.
The road becomes more than a road;
It becomes an encounter.
Perhaps even grace.
For when we learn to see rightly,
we begin, at last,
to see truly.
Beloved Reflections 