Decades ago, I turned a page in the magazine, Common Boundary. On the facing page was a photograph of an old woman, her eyes recessed in a plain of wrinkles, the landscape of long human life.
Her eyes were remarkable, vibrant blue, steady, deeply knowing.
The moment was profound. This extraordinary woman, the embodiment of the belief that “the eyes are a window to the soul.” I cannot recall the article. I had forgotten her eyes until this morning.
What life had she led to live within her skin and far beyond it at the same time? If there was ever a goal in life, I thought, the authenticity and honesty reflected in that gaze had to be it.
On a business trip, a hotel room anywhere. A mirror, the essential tool to minimize the lines now tracking across the map of my own face. In its reflection, I glanced into my eyes, looking at me as if I were someone else. Blue, thoughtful, knowing, steady. Seeing from and to someplace other.
In that too-quick moment, I joined the woman I so admired years and years ago. Mine was a dusty existence, I met few goals, and realized disappointment. But those eyes remain for me the mile marker of a truly lived human life. Full circle.
Shouldn't...but Do 