Tuesday, November 4, 2025
There is something prehistoric about a bird’s eye. I find myself creeped out when looking at a bird’s black pupil, like a parrot or a chicken. Birds are prehistoric, direct descendants from dinosaurs. You sense this immeasurable lineage deep in their eyes, like a sage returning “the look” of wisdom.
When I look into my dog’s eyes, I see wide eyes, mystified and absorbed in the moment, returning the look with wonder and anticipation. Both the ancient sage and little child seem to see me through different levels of maturity through the eyes. I see percipience in an elephant’s eye. I see mischievousness in the cat’s eye.
Humans have these qualities returning the gaze. I see purity in the eyes of young children. Their eyes hide nothing. I notice many people in my circles with beady eyes, concerned, fearful, self-conscious. It’s not the ancient sage but the shrunken, timid creature not yet fully enlivened.
Who has bright eyes? Ancient eyes? Deadened eyes? Stink eye? Evil eye? So much is revealed in the eyes. We’ll see who’s afraid, who is locked up in the head, who is wise, who is wonderful, who is but a child.
The Great Spirit of Truth reveals itself in what looks “out” through the eyes. The stronger the ego, the deader the eyes. The more subdued the ego, the more enlivened the eyes. They sparkle with curiosity, delight, and wonder, a cartoonish feature, hard to describe. Over time, the eyes become timeless, a prehistoric sage that goes too far back to see. Those eyes disappear in the forehead, like a sea turtle.
It’s hard to gaze into the eyes. Most pupils flit so fast, you’d think some were being chased by lions. Few have the gravity of stable, focused eyes. Few have sparkle. Look. Few are truly alive.