It’s been a while since you were last seen. What brings you in today?
I don’t seem to see as well as I used to.
‘To See’ – such a relative… infinitive thing, isn’t it? Nonetheless, your prescription may need adjusting; an examination may be indicated.
First of all, to establish something of a benchmark, let’s get a closer look at how you’ve come to choose to perceive less than all there is. Here’s a vanguard question to get things going: How do I look to you?
Is your hearing in question as well, or are you just pretending to be shocked by my question?
Well, I am shocked… and a little pissed, although I couldn’t begin to tell you why. Nor can I determine what the hell you meant by your question, let alone whether it’s even appropriate in this setting.
Oh? And just what setting is this? Isn’t this the setting in life that you chose to enter into just to be with me in this moment? You’re no drama king, and you know damned well what I meant by the question.
Look, you’re the one who came to me for help. So now, here we are in a sterile ‘white’ room with medical props and a closed door – just the two of us. I will help you. Let’s just drop the crap! I’ll ask you once again. How do I look to you?
Well, since you put it that way, I am relieved. For much of my life I’ve been waiting for some undeniably metaphysical event to happen to me, for a change, like a pumpkin turning into a Mercedes or a burning bush or something. This visit… this ‘conversation’ tends to meet generally preconceived criteria.
I trust you don’t ‘generally preconceive’ there’s oil to be checked here, or that my bush may be aflame…. How do I look to you?
You did ask me that, didn’t you?
As I submit to the meeting of our eyes, my heart is accessed directly, and a knob long forgotten about is gently adjusted. It is as if you know more about my emotional nature in one instant than my own mother could have known in a lifetime.
Ooo… Good! Continue.
It is as though my consciousness is penetrated and probed by a kind, intelligent, powerful loving force. Yet, I do sense an ego… one that I can only describe as feminine. Your beauty and your softness do not diminish in any way the sheer force of your spirit as it shows me who and what is real.
Kinda borders on the cornball… but, who am I to judge, and then to demand better? Keep going.
That’s just it with you women, isn’t it? You do judge, and then demand better… ALL THE TIME!! A man pours his heart out to a woman, and she kicks back and says, “Hmm… take a number, and hold your breath in the waiting area.” Must every man who beholds you be Shakespeare or Don Juan if he is to speak of it?
My goodness! We did strike a nerve, didn’t we? And, so soon in our Communion. Words don’t tell much. They convey but a fraction of truth. Language is an imperfect occupation of human design, and you need to lighten up!
OK, then let me ask you something. How do other men respond when you ask them? How do you assess their answers?
I do it non-verbally, to be sure, without so much as a “Hmm.” And, how other men respond to me is totally irrelevant.
Well, if I answered that, I’d be engaging in cascade irrelevance…
…a talent at which women generally excel anyway!
You’ve got quite a chip on your shoulder, or up your circuitry, and it’s probably what’s obstructing your overall Vision.
If you were of another field of the profession, I’d expect by now that you would proceed to probe my childhood and my relationship with mother.
Dear sir, I AM your childhood and your relationship with ALL women. We talked about this. Can’t you remember?
…And, as Rod Serling’s theme is hammered out on a toy xylophone in a gray area due north of the third eye, I am a deer frozen in time by the blinding headlights of eternity…
Okay… Okay, not all truth can or should be revealed at once… evidently. So, forget about all that; it’s a construct of the divine paradox.
So, now we can revert to a more standard ‘script?’
Until you come to remember, I suppose there’s no other way. And, since you insist on being so pineally impotent, we’ll go with the Smellin Chart.
Not the Snellen Chart?
If I’d have meant ‘Snellen’, I’d have said ‘Snellen.’ That’s the ‘script’ that got you your current prescription! You don’t even remember that? No, we’re talkin’ Smellin’ here, pure and simple – simply the most therapeutic kind of seein’ since sliced bread.
Uh-oh, I’m afraid to ask.
Then don’t! Just shut your trap… and kneel before me.
Wow! As stubborn as you are, you certainly have no trouble at all with that! If you are able to speak, tell me what you see before you.
Your words, “Kneel before me,” struck my mind like a bolt of lightning. I didn’t think. I didn’t expect. I didn’t feel. I just sort of thrust forward and dropped like a ship’s anchor to the sea floor, and the resonance of your command still rings vibrantly throughout the domain of my awareness. You tell me that words speak little truth, yet you’ve just shown me that yours are Truth!
Holy Mother of God! I’ll make a Shakespeare out of you yet! You may not even require the Smellin treatment. Tell me what you see, dear one.
It no longer matters who or what I sound like. I am on my knees before you, a precious and prosperous flower of a child, blissfully embarking upon her life’s dream. I am on my knees before you, I am in a sublime state of knowing, and it’s all quite OK. In fact, if you were to throw that door wide open, I’d be honored to support you in demonstrating to every man on the planet just how you and your temple are to be treated.
Whoa! Time to drop out of warp for a minute. First of all, the world is surely and sorely not ready for such a demonstration. They’d flat out refuse to see – to understand what’s being shown to them. And secondly, we’re not quite finished here. So get closer, sweetheart; tell me what you see.
I see… a keyhole defined by the symbols alpha and omega blended in a mutualness of unity. It is blessed; it is holy… it is sacred symmetry. To describe what I see is quite a challenge, yet I know now that I am destined to feel it all out as it evolves – to reestablish language from scratch and from a newer perspective, if it becomes necessary. I feel a powerful magnetic force emanating from the perfection of clothed form that I see. It is warm, loving… soothing. It pulls at my consciousness, presently reassigned to the tip of my nose, like a quantum singularity. I – and time – now observe your speed limit. How do I honor thee, Holy One?
You’re doing just fine, my love. Speak to me. And speak of me. You worship me by honoring my temple which is really just my temporary home. Worship me to your heart’s content. That is the very reason we exist. And as you do, your Vision is restored to crystal clarity, released forever from the illusion of ‘prescription.’
You are my Genie, and I am your Spell. My Temple is your Lamp. That is why you are so drawn to it. This is your dream, dear one. Let not another wrest it from you, for it is come true. And as you continue to think of me, the words you seek to describe me – the language you are so ready and willing to reinvent just to attempt to translate my essence… it will all come.