Mindfulness and Seeing More Clearly

by Alexandra Ratcliffe

Let me be clear: I am not recommending cataract surgery unless you have a cataract that needs to be removed, but I have recently joined the club of those who now see you more clearly, having, out of necessity, had it done. And I am overwhelmed and inspired by the experience, which I have, until now, only heard about and not fully appreciated.

Having a cataract removed is like having the rust removed from your ageing eyes. Does the world really look like this? Has it always? Why hasn’t anyone told me before? Before surgery, it is as if you are reading with a lamp of yellow light: soothing. But afterwards, the lamp is white light; that’s a big difference. How white and clear and bright is the world.

I cannot resist all the metaphorical references: “The scales have fallen from my eyes” and all that. “For now, we see through a glass darkly, but then, face to face”. “First cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.” Well, hopefully.

I have always been in favour of casting out the beam from my own eye first, before accusing the other guy of his blindness, but the problem is, we all think we see so clearly. We are so certain of our view, our vision. But this surgery has taught me that I haven’t been seeing clearly at all. What else haven’t I seen that I am seeing more clearly now?

To be honest, cataracts aren’t the problem. But where we focus our attention is, or is not, our problem, depending on what or where it is focused. For most of us, our attention when not engaged in our work or caring for our families, etc. is either on 1) our confusing thoughts 2) our confused feelings or 3) what’s happening on the screen we are constantly gazing at.

If you think about all the things we are missing in the meantime in just the physical, sensory world, we could fill a book. How about: the golden sunlight on your pillow; the delicious taste of your breakfast; the fresh smell of coffee; the newly blossoming buds springing up everywhere; the distant (or very near)) sound of children squealing and laughing; those ever cheerful birds in the garden; the gentle breeze touching your face, wherever you are.

How lucky we are that we can gulp fresh air, consume fresh water and are able to gaze out onto a vibrant world.

People say that, when they have cataracts removed, they are seeing the world anew. Maybe we shouldn’t wait. Not everyone in the world has the opportunity to see and feel and taste and touch these things, quietly and in peace. In fact, not many. Maybe we should do it for them, and wish it, for them. Maybe we should not be in such a hurry to pass it all by.

One day, I believe soon, the time is coming when the person next to us, occupying the same space, however wonderful or awful they may seem, will be more important to give attention to than the screen in front of us. One day we will revive the art of seeing each other, of breaking the barriers, of seeking solutions, of talking not texting, and of being not doing. 

A few moments of mindful quiet presence everyday gives the experience of having the rust removed from our sight. Everything is clearer, tastes better and feels better. Maybe in this way we can create a little more space and light in our corner of the world. Have a look and see.