Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Finding My Eye

I have one good eye with which to see. The other one I plucked out voluntarily. After all, if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out, right? Better to go through life maimed. So I plucked out my eye because I was told it was causing me to sin. I also cut off one of my hands... Boy, that hurt.

The extraction of my eye, the amputation of my hand is something I've not been able to hide since. Whenever people look at me, they see the empty socket where my eye had once been. Whenever they go to shake my hand, they come face to face with a blunt stump. Oh, I know there are glass eyes & artificial limbs to be had, but that would seem to negate the intended purpose of the loss, don't you think? I'm making a statement here. This is my "penance".

I'm of course being facetious. But this is how I've felt throughout life- blinded & maimed... I was told my perspective was all wrong. I was just a child. What did I know? So I plucked out my eye to conform, to acknowledge the truth that my perspective was a problem. As an adult, I still have one good eye, but I often miss things & tend to grow weary more easily... I find myself keeping my good eye shut whenever I can to preserve it's strength.

I figuratively cut off my hand because I was told I was behaving badly. The way I chose to express myself- the only way I knew how- it was unacceptable, untamable, full of gangrene that only threatened to grow & take over the whole of me. If I hadn't cut off my hand, I would be in jail by now, on the streets or dead... At least that's what I was told. What a handful I would've been (No pun intended)! My behaviour, my response to life, my expression of me was unacceptable. Better to put a stop to it before it got out of control. I still have one good hand. I can do minimal tasks. I have to go slow, but I get by.

As I was cleaning out my proverbial basement the other day, I saw something in the corner. It was my old toy chest, the kind with the bookshelf on top & chalkboards on the sliding doors. Colourful zoo animals frolicked among numbers & letters of the alphabet. I had contributed my own scrawling artwork in crayon in the blank spaces between. I used to like to hide in this toy chest. I slid the doors back, getting chalk on my good hand. I looked inside. Floating in a jar, staring back at me, was my eye. My severed hand floated in the comfort of formaldehyde in a jar next to it. I wasn't sure what to do at that point... I decided I would come back & deal with it later. I left them there & turned off the lights. My eye was getting tired & I had to wash my hand. But something inside me was excited to find these treasures... kept for me all these years. I wondered if I could be restored or if I would remain damaged beyond repair... Perhaps these things are better left alone. After all, I'm making a statement here.

PLEASE NOTE: The actual scripture I was eluding to can be found in Matthew 5:29-30. "If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell." (NIV©2010) Its also important to note if one adheres to the respective editor's subheading of "Adultery" for Matthew 5:27-30, you will find I've deliberately taken these scriptures out of context.

I also omitted the bit about throwing the part(s) away. I felt it was significant for the reader to understand that I had not in fact thrown the parts away- I had merely cut them off & hid them... contrary to instruction, which in itself, was an act contrary to its intended purpose.

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