Recently, a window washer came and removed layers of weather driven debris from our windows. The vestige of wind-driven rain on some windows clouded our view.
Kind of like the cataracts on my eyes that have “ripened” to the point of removal. I wish –hope– they will be as easy to remove.
Color me wholly . . . anxious.
Friends who have had the surgery report excellent results— declaring their surprise how dull their perception of color had become.
Wow — can’t image how that will translate into new adventures in painting. (Your Color Choices are Unusual )
But grateful I am —just in my lifetime cataract surgery has advanced A lens implant means I won’t have to endure the “coke-bottle” glasses that so annoyed my mother!
Sometimes I can’t blame all blurriness on my eyes though . . . sometimes it’s the thumbprints on my glasses. (Fingerprints on My Glasses)
And sometimes . . . we all may need more than just a window washer — or ophthalmologist — to see the world outside our windows. (Mark 8:22-26)
An age is called Dark not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it. ~James A. Michener, Space, 1982
In the run up to the first surgery, I am looking about to see what I can see — even if it seems a bit blurry.
Sometimes the human experience feels like a groping through fog. It’s hard to see the bigger picture. The not-seeing can be frustrating. ( In a Fog: Art and Theology)