Glasslessness Is Next To Egolessness
If creativity comes about when one drops the ego, becomes egoless, loses the self, then perhaps I should forget having Lasik eye surgery.
As I’ve long observed, without my glasses, or my contacts, I become more of an artist. Nothing has too fine a point on it; everything is a blur of color, every object flows into its neighbor, disregards the rules of depth and distance, every hard edge is smudged by a divine thumb.
When I look at people, I can only make out their attitude, the direction they are facing, in general the style and color of their attire. I cannot see the wrinkles of a smirk, the fluttering of nervous eyeballs, a locked jaw. I cannot say that a person is beautiful or ugly, timid or bold, confident or submissive. Only when they begin to move, and before they move out of my field of acuity, can I glean something about how their personalities are expressed in movement. The world of aesthetic possibilities changes completely. I lose my ability to judge a person as a static work of art. I am transformed into a detective who must through the collection of small hints and clues deduce something about the mystery of a man. My eyes, which used to be incisive, sabre-toothed implements of summary dissection, are blunted, melted into something rounder, softer, alchemized to gold. I cannot pose a challenge or posit a demand or communicate a desire with a look. I cannot even deliver a prejudice. There is no aggressiveness left in my gaze. All that remains is a question mark, a void looking for wonder to fill it, a witness to surprise.
Am I really forced to don these dangerous spectacles just to avoid being eaten alive by everyone else roving the streets with razor eyes?