. . . But you, who hate both virtue and
those who practice it, do nothing at which we need be surprised, for sickly eyes
cannot bear the sun, nocturnal creatures avoid the brightness of day, and at
its first dawning become bewildered and all betake themselves to their dens
together.
Creatures that fear the light hide
themselves in crevices. So croak away, and exercise your miserable tongues in
reproaching good men.
Open wide your jaws, bite hard. You
will break many teeth before you make any impression.
—Seneca
the Younger, On the happy life,
Chapter 20 (tr Stewart)
Great sages,
poets, and artists have long used the image of light as a symbol for the truth,
and the image of the eye as a symbol for the mind. Just as light makes objects visible
to the eye, so truth makes reality intelligible to the mind, and as the sun is
the source of all light, the Divine is the source of all truth. Separated from
light the eye is blind, and separated from truth the mind is ignorant.
Though
the eye is made to see, and the mind is made to understand, there are many ways
that either can be hindered. If another object is blocking my sight, I must
move around it or away from it. If the eye is diseased, I must seek a cure. If
my vision has become so accustomed to darkness, I must slowly adjust to the
light.
When I
was younger, my father would wryly remind me that I should be a child of light,
not of darkness. I assumed he was referring to my staying out all hours of the
night getting up to no good with the wrong sorts of people, and he was most
certainly speaking of that. Yet I am also sure he meant it not just literally,
but also figuratively. My being nocturnal was not just about the time of day,
but also about my whole attitude.
Disappointment,
pain, or fear have sometimes made me decide to close my eyes to what is true
and good. It is a form of denial, perhaps, or of running away, but at such
times I have also become bitter and negative. Everything may appear dark and
grey, and so, as Seneca says, I croak, I exercise my miserable tongue, and I
break my own teeth biting down.
The
longer I cut myself off from what is true and good, from what Nature asks and
provides, the more I wallow in darkness and ignorance, and the harder it becomes
to return to the light. There were times when I had become so used to
ignorance and resentment that wisdom and charity seemed to burn.
Being a
pale Irish fellow, I figured out long ago that when the warm weather comes
along, I just need to spend a day out in the sun. My skin will turn bright red,
and I will feel uncomfortable for a time, but that toughens me up for the rest
of the summer. I’ve had to do the same with my heart and mind a few times, to
get them back to state where they can appreciate what is right and decent.
I have
sadly seen too many people I love crawl into the dark over the years, and light
now seems toxic to them. I often feel like I would want nothing more than to rouse
them from the crevices, and help them to walk their way in the daytime, until
their eyes can once again grow accustomed to brightness.
Written in 10/2016
Image: Rembrandt, The Philosopher in Meditation (1632)
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