Where Does All This Light Come From ?
With my right eye, I saw vivid green and scarlet. Later, on the left, sunset pink and royal blue. Each time, there were flashes of white light: frankly, it was psychedelic!
I had cataract operations recently (two of them, in fact !). Luckily we have only two eyes – of flesh, at any rate ! It’s a quick and very common operation. But it’s a ten minute trip, too, to the heart of a gushing light source. Where is it? How can my eyes harbor so much color and so many bursts of lightning?
For sure, a strong overhead light allows the surgeon and his team to see what they’re doing. So I tell myself it’s got to be physio…logical.
The anesthesiologist gave me a fix that has set me gently afloat; I can hear what’s being said without emoting.
I’m dazzled by this brilliance that my own eyes seem to be generating. And yet, my eyes are only ˝meat˝˝and cannot create a thing. The nerves that abide in them, the blood vessels that irrigate them cannot invent anything either. I’m perplexed. Something is given.
My blind friend will never be operated on for cataracts and will never see what I saw. Isa’s light is trapped under a lid, while mine captures and returns an image of the world to me. And yet my friend surely has her own share of the rays of creation. Her physical access to them is blocked, but the potential remains.
I think we are light bulbs whose current is activated (or not, as in the case of Isa) by Life. An ineffable Light hides in the depths of each of our cells.
When, on the day following the operation, I took off the bandage that covered my eye, I could see each blade of grass in my lawn. I had even forgotten that a lawn is made up of multiple blades of grass ! A pleasant, impressionist Monet had given way to a sharp Douanier-Rousseau. Before, it was as if I’d had a veil before my eyes. I thought I could see, but I was deceiving myself. And if ˝this world˝ was just that (even when we can discern those leaves of grass): a perceptual error?
Metaphysicians speak of ˝the superimposed image˝… This world is a masterful trompe l’œil. If we could truly see, we would see nothing but beauty.