Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Eyes are windows to the soul

In public, everyone looks so serious. Their faces look like they just sucked on a pickle. As an introvert, I can look serious when my heart is clapping with joy. I love people but they tire me easily. I need an escape hatch when I'm around a lot of people to keep me energized.

When I was 20, someone told me it was important to always look at people in the eyes. I have studied eye behaviour without much luck. I watch the shifties as people look around when I'm talking to them. Do they look around because they are searching for an answer or are they looking for a lie? Body language plays a role in these observations but I gotta figure out the eyes before I go to the rest of the body. Have you ever observed the person who can't maintain eye contact and wondered if you're freaking them out or if they have something to hide?  There's the shy person who is so timid that they only thing he hides is his personality. He can be mistaken for a shady character who has something else to hide.

It's been tough for me to read a person through the eyes until yesterday.

Yesterday, I listened to the soothe sounds of John Denver while was I grocery shopping. Not only did music give me a rhythm, it gave me the mental"exit stage left" I was looking for. The rhythm gave me peace. In that solitude, I noticed people while I tapped "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" on my shopping cart. Most importantly I woke up to facial expressions. The music was my invisibility cloak. I was alone in my musically entrenched world. Under the cloak, I noticed everyone had a rhythm. The eyes were the dead give-away.

The racy eyes were in a hurry. The tired eyes wanted to go home. The hot eyes were mad at someone or something.

Eyes are supposed to be windows to the soul. I've tried to read people through their eyes before but it's never worked. Like a voodoo magic trick I expected the eyes to tell me everything I wanted to know. My mouth got in the way. As the mouth acted like the school bully, desiring attention, my ears were the mother hen accepting all sounds as fact and nurturing every word as a child needing attention.

My ears and mouth get in the way of my eyes. My ego pushes some of this. I try to keep him in the box, but he jumps out when we call his name.

With music in my ears, not listening to anyone and not thinking about what is being said, my eyes demonstrated an inexplicable beacon that I was never able to find.

My eyes will not deceive what my mouth has translated and which my ears have accepted as fact.

Eyes are absolutely windows to the soul. I finally experienced it for the first time.



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