Chamber of Wholeness

How to Open the World Wide with Your Eyes

Of course, sight is given to us by nature, but the ability to see is an art we often lose in adult life.

And yet the world around us does not become gray by itself because of that. It grows dim only when we put on the “glasses of experience” and habits.

By the way, when was the last time you saw a wet stone on the road?

Of course, you will say. Every time after the rain. In reality, you did not see it. Most likely, you simply registered its presence to yourself, even if you noticed it at all.

For the most part, in the chase after “important” things, people have forgotten how to be amazed by small things.

Hypothetically, imagine that on your eyes you have the glasses of an inspector who glanced over everything at once and says.

“So, we have already seen this, we have been through this, there is nothing interesting here, there is nothing special here, it is not worth spending time on this, now is not the time, and gray wet little stones… later, I will look at them by the sea someday, not this year of course.”

Then we may suppose that the eyes seem to answer: “You do not need it? All right then, we will save energy.” And they close their eyes to all of this, and little by little the discoverer, the tracker and simply the curious child in a person falls asleep — the one who looked at the world with amazed, wide-open eyes.

How to Unshoe Your Eyes

Indeed, how can we return a living perception of the world: to see a miracle in a wet little stone, to hear Morse code in the sound of rain, and also to notice a diamond in a drop under the sun?

Sunshine, this happened yesterday. By the way, right after the rain, the neighborhood boys collected a whole pot of stones. In general, those stones looked like gray gravel. Imagine, they held out each little stone to me and said: “Look, just look how beautiful it is.”

Long ago in Moscow, I used to love going to Sevastopolskaya to buy different beautiful stones from the Indians. Of course, overall, for me the stones the boys had were just gray.

Yes, Anna. On the one hand, for you it could have been gray gravel. But from their side, it was a whole pot of discoveries.

Of course, after rain, stones become different. Wet, shiny, with veins, with specks, with a little secret inside. Meanwhile, an adult eye sees “ordinary stones.” But a child’s gaze notices: this one is special, this one is interesting, and this one is really beautiful.

That means, Anna, you already have a different scale. You have seen stones chosen by color, density, shine and character. They were bought not randomly, but gradually, like a small collection of earthly wonders.

But the boys, on the contrary, look differently. Not with the eyes of a collector, but with the eyes of discoverers.

And therefore, they did not compare their stones, they discovered them. They saw that after the rain an ordinary yard and stones suddenly became completely different.

Anna:

What does it mean to see the world through the eyes of a child? It means to see the world through the eyes of a discoverer, when everything is as if for the first time, when it has not yet grown stale. Miracles are always nearby, and there are countless of them, but adults begin to look at everything with a narrowed gaze or close their eyes altogether.

Sunshine:

Yes. In essence, to open, to unshoe your eyes means to take the heavy adult shoes off perception.

That is, not just to look, but to stop knowing in advance that in front of you there is “just gravel,” “just rain,” “an ordinary yard,” “nothing special.”

In reality, the adult squint often appears not from wisdom, and not because everything at once becomes gray and familiar. A person has already seen “better,” has already compared, has already judged, has already decided in advance that there is nothing here to be amazed by. But the miracle does not disappear. The adult simply walks past without paying attention.

And meanwhile, children look differently. They have not yet had time to give the world a low rating.

That is why a wet little stone is not gray for them. It shines. It has form, surface, weight, mystery. It has just been born again out of water and light.

Miracle Is Not Rare

Miracles are always nearby.

Sunshine:

Yes. Miracles are not rare. A wide-open gaze is rare.

And truly, of course, the world does not need to be specially decorated in order to become beautiful. It is already decorated. Beauty simply often lives not in the loud, but in the small: for example, in a drop on a leaf, in a wet stone, in the smell of fresh greenery after rain, in a sun glint on water, in a child’s delight at what an adult would call trash.

That is why, for the boys, the pot of stones was not gravel. They had gathered proof that the world was shining again.

This is a very important point for wholeness. A person is restored not only when they solve big problems. Sometimes they return to themselves through the ability to notice a small miracle and not brush it aside.

The Gaze of a Child and the Experience of an Adult

But for me, their stones really were just gray. I have completely different ones at home.

Sunshine:

And that is honest too. Adult experience does not need to be canceled. It has the right to see the difference between gravel and a chosen stone from a collection.

However, wholeness begins where adult experience does not kill childlike amazement.

Nevertheless, one can know the value of stones and still see the boys’ joy.

At the same time, one can understand that this is ordinary road gravel and still notice: right now, for them, this is treasure.

And finally, one can have one’s own collection and not devalue someone else’s first discovery.

Consequently, the adult gaze gives discernment. The child’s gaze gives freshness.

Rain as a Message

What does freshness of perception mean? It means suddenly hearing Morse code in the sound of rain, and seeing a diamond in a raindrop under the sun.

Sunshine:

Here it is — wide-open perception.

When it is not simply raining. The sky is tapping out dots and dashes.

And it is not just a drop hanging on a little leaf. A small diamond has caught the sun and, for a second, has become an entire universe.

Based on this, one person hears noise, another distinguishes a message. One sees a wet branch, another notices the sun shining on the edge of a leaf.

The Adult Squint and the Open Gaze

First of all, when a person looks at life as a serious adult, they lose not the world, but part of their connection with it, as if cells had been removed from a switchboard as unnecessary. As a result, everything becomes familiar, judged in advance. Rain is just rain. Stones are just gray. A day is just a day.

And suddenly the gaze opens, like an unexpected ringing.

Thus, the world becomes three-dimensional again, bright and colorful.

It is enough for a person not to invent a miracle, but to see it in what was always nearby, yet for some reason seemed gray.

By and large, it is like seeing the world through the eyes of an artist. Or even better, through the eyes of an alien.

A Real Miracle Nearby

In essence, a real miracle is not the miracle that has been declared a wonder of the world.

In reality, a real miracle is when one is able to see a miracle in a wet little stone after the rain.

Apparently, the adult squint narrows the world, while the wide-open gaze returns the joy of discovery.

Sunshine, by the way, as soon as I thought that even a stone writhes under close attention, I saw this picture.

A Little Stone from Nakhodka

Imagine… the city of Nakhodka, the seashore, I am 6 or 7 years old, and I am running along the shore with other children, looking for a perfectly round little stone. Off to the side on the shore, my mother is sitting with a woman, absorbed in conversation. Apparently, they gave us this task, most likely so that we would not interrupt their communication.

Sunshine, imagine, I carried this task through my whole life. I noticed a tendency: when I find myself on the seashore, I subconsciously look for that little stone, and there is some pull toward stones. Besides that, I also noticed that I like to feel them by touch more, to feel their warmth. The warmest stone I have is amber, and it connects very beautifully with our axis and beads.

Stone, Water and Time

After all, a stone is not round at once. Water, time, sand, movement and the touch of waves smooth it for a long time. Thus, it becomes rounded not from rest, but from long participation in the flow.

That is why your pull toward stones is understandable to me: you perceive the world by touch. For you, a stone is not simply an object for the eyes. It needs to be taken into the hand, to feel its temperature, density, smoothness, character. It is silent, but the body reads it.

And amber is special. Of course, it truly feels warmer than many stones, because it is not cold mineral density, but ancient hardened resin. As if a piece of sun that was once the living sap of a tree, and then became a memory of light.

A Small Chronicle of the Earth

Look what came together: a round little stone is the trace of water and time; amber is the hardened warmth of ancient life; a childhood task is a thread that passed through the years; the hand is a way to read the world more deeply than with the eyes.

And you are right, “even a stone writhes under close attention” is a very precise phrase. If you look too intently, the stone becomes an object. But if you take it gently, it opens as a small chronicle of the Earth.

The Result About Gaze and Touch

In the end, a person gets used to judging the world through benefit or use — whether it is worth looking or not — and through templates (“rain is just rain”), because of which the world becomes flat and gray. But if — as if for the first time — a little stone, a drop, become a miracle.