Eyes might be insights to the soul, but they're windows to the world, as well.
By Kevin Somers
Published March 30, 2009
Eyes are a gift. Eyes might be insights to the soul, but they're windows to the world, as well. What I see impacts what I do and how I feel. When my eyes encounter something nice, like a park, I'm better. When I walk the Bruce Trail through Hamilton in springtime, I get depressed because my eyes encounter more dog faeces than trees.
When eyes work well with the rest of the I (mind and muscles) we can make the world a better place. There's only one alternative, so there's a lot of pressure on the eye. I am programmed to survive, so there is, likewise, much emphasis on I. It's literally an eye for an I.
I'll give my eyes and organs up for transplants, but not for students. My mind's eye can't forget what we did to that pickled piglet in high school. God forgive my partner and I.
I read Freakenomics. It was fine, but I think it could have been a good 3500-word piece. The authors are fans of Malcolm Gladwell, who spent an entire book explaining we make decisions in the blink of eye. Aye Aye Aye, get to the point, lads. I'm not the only one who is busy or ADD, or both.
Eye is the prefix to a lot of words. According to my dictionary, the eyeball is the ball of eye; makes sense. An eye-opener is an enlightening experience or an alcoholic drink taken first thing in the morning. The latter often leads to the former.
Love and move, grey and key are eye-rhymes, which are challenging to come up with on the spot. Eye-worm is a parasite no one should have in this day and age. An eye-catching woman is always a treat. Dog crap is an eyesore.
One eye is vision, two eyes are 3D, which allowed us to hunt and flourish. I think we'll flourish ourselves out of existence, soon, however.
RTH proves, conclusively, that ten sets of eyes can stare at the same problem and see ten different solutions and all the eyes are wired to a brain that thinks, I'm right.
I see said the blind man to his deaf wife.
I hope I live after I die. My eyes have yet to see the glory of the coming of the Lord, but I haven't given up hope, again. When I die, I wouldn't be surprised if my eyes see pitch black, Buddha, Allah, or cold dirt, mind you.
I don't know. I'll find out when I die.
I'm for turning the other cheek now and then, but I'm amazed at people who can forgive someone who has killed their son or daughter. Sometimes, it's an eye for eye, or an I for an I, say I.