This wasn’t always the case, but I have noticed lately that it has been becoming an issue for me. Or maybe I’m just more aware of it these days. But sometimes it's really difficult for me to look people in the eye for very long. I’ve been trying to work on it, but it seriously almost hurts to look into another’s eyes for more than a mere glance, sometimes. It's not necessarily a physical pain, but ... I don't know how to explain it. It’s uncomfortable, that’s for certain.
I’ve been practicing Kundalini Yoga and have been in the teacher training course for it for about five months now. I’ve been aware of some internal changes going on, and I’ve wondered about the possibility that my soul is more visible through my eyes to others, and maybe my subconscious mind doesn’t feel comfortable with them seeing me that up-close and personal. One of my friends told me that she thinks I am just protecting my soul from their energy, and that’s why I have to look away from some people. This Libra mind teeters from I hope I figure out the reason why to Maybe it’s not for me to know, just to experience.
I wondered if this was going to be an issue when I was to participate in white tantric yoga at the Summer Solstice Celebration on Ram Das Puri Mountain in New Mexico this summer. But it really wasn’t. I was paired with a stranger; Lucy was her name. And it was actually a gentle experience compared to the few fears that occasionally roamed through my psyche prior to the event.
Since I’ve been more aware of my eye contact with others, I wanted to share a somewhat magical experience.
To make a long story short, last weekend I was in Dallas so I stopped off to get a twig and branch pizza from Bolsa on my way back from a writing seminar. Said pizza is my all-time favorite, and the roasted grapes make it nothing short of amazing to the palate that resides inside this head. So when I reached for a piece on the 30-mile drive back to the homestead, I was a wee bit peeved that the grapes were hardly even roasted. Needless to say, this pizza did not register as something to be grateful for.
Regardless, I continued on my pizza journey, nibbling gently away at the could-have-been-crispier-crust. (NOT! I was scarfing that sh**! I mean, come on: “…[pizza is kinda like sex]: even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”)
About three pieces in, (Don’t judge me, man; the slices aren’t even that big!), I was at a stop light when my gaze came upon a homeless man clutching a sign in attempts to procure some grub. I rummaged around my car, but not quickly enough; the light turned green, and I looked in my rearview to find several cars behind me. I knew I had to proceed or else I would tick-off a lot of drivers. And if you didn’t know, a road-rager can send some seriously bad juju in your direction! “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
In the midst of all of this, maybe the homeless man saw me mumble something that nice girls don’t say, because when my eyes, once again, met with his, he tapped his index and middle finger to his heart and nodded at me. I swear I heard him tell me telepathically, "Your heart was in it, girl, and I understand that you can't give to me right now, and that’s ok. It’s the thought that counts, so don't worry about it.” I swear I saw eons into this wise man’s soul as my car increased speed.
"Hold on, man, I'm coming back around." I said it more to myself than to him, but maybe he heard me telepathically, because he was looking back at me as I made a U-turn at the next block. (Nah, he probably just heard my tires squealing.) Coming upon the red light, he briskly hobbled over to me as I accordion-folded half the pizza and slapped it on a napkin. As my window went down, I said to him, "I picked up this pizza just now,” and handed it out the window. For an instant, I saw pure awareness in his timeless eyes, and in that moment, I was purely aware. He thanked me sincerely and asked the Big G to bless me, and as I made another U-turn to head back in the right direction, he gave me another wave. Our eyes locked once more, and I returned the wave, with only my index and middle finger raised, which was fitting yet unintentional; the other digits gripped my wadded-up, greasy napkin.
The look in his eyes… those deep, soulful, dark eyes, made me emotionally choked-up for a good ten miles, I'll bet, and in that instant, I was not only grateful for the pizza with not-well-roasted grapes on it, but more so for that experience: to see into that man's soul and to have no fear of him staring straight into mine.
Maybe I gave him food for his belly, but he gave me nourishment for my soul.Thank you, sir, and many blessings to you, as well.