You can tell everything from the eyes. By holding a gaze, witnessing someone’s soul expression, their every nuanced feeling, thought and emotion. The eyes say so much without saying anything at all. I guess that’s why they call them ‘windows to the soul’.
The gift I have is that I have the ability to read eyes so clearly that I just know. That my intuition gives me this instantaneous feedback on exactly what someone is thinking or feeling. That I can differentiate between the truth and a lie just by watching their eyes and not listening to their words. I learned a lot of this skill from reading my family members. Our daily weeknight dinner table discussions housed everything from arguments to dreams to business ideas, stories and memories of the past and advice. It was a meeting ground of all of us to share our spoils of the day. The victories, triumphs, failures and everything in between over bowls of white rice and home cooked dishes.
It was a tender time of connection, warmth and love that I look back on with nostalgia. We would eat every feeling that came up: the joy, the anger, the sadness, the fear…Sometimes there would be broken plates and bowls, thrown in frustration. Sometimes choking on food from laughter. I remember kernels of rice lodged in my nose, having to blow it out right at the table.
As the family has grown and all on our individual journeys, with Grandma passed, me living out on the west coast, Nolan in the city, dad working nights, dinners now, save for special occasions when everyone is home, consists of mom and Kingston, eating takeout or cooking one of those dinner boxes with all the ingredients provided in perfect measurement and with instructions.
The sands of time shift everything and nothing is forever. Even the faces of mountains are smoothed and etched by wind. And the shores of the earth eaten away by the ocean tides. Perhaps that is why love is so frightening and painful to me. Because you are so accutely aware of death in every single moment. And yet, you are so aware of the life that is present.
Part of me wonders if I am held and bound to the family, in all of its weird, grotesque, unique ways. Part of me wonders if running back into the arms of this home is my fate. Or if I am meant to walk a different way. A sister friend from Thailand posted this caption today that I found resonant.
It said, “Risk everything for joy“.
I guess it’s time to wonder: which path brings me the greatest joy? And what am I fearing I will “lose” in this choice? But what if what I gain outweighs my fears?
Such an existential thought from a tiny blip in the time space continuum.
What would you do if you had to make a choice between different decisions that will take you in different directions? A metaphorical fork in the road…