I believe in closing my eyes. This, however, doesn’t mean closing my eyes and falling asleep. Closing my eyes, in this context, means staying awake but being blind to the world for a brief period of time. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something special about shutting your eyes in the midst of the day. Perhaps it’s how one of your five senses suddenly goes “offline” and your whole body must quickly readjust and enhance the remaining four senses. And for those five minutes or so, you can hear, smell, taste, and feel the world in a way that you have never experienced before. Suddenly, it feels like everything is going to work out.
I have been using this technique for years now – but it was only recently that I began to understand what made this brief period of time so attractive, so addictive, so necessary in my life. One of the most recent times was here in Penn State, on a fall afternoon. That morning, nothing seemed to be going as planned. I ended up sleeping through my alarm clock and waking up with only fifteen minutes to get dressed, eat, and sprint to class. It was only when I did arrive at the doors of an empty classroom in Chambers that I realized that I was in the wrong building. An appointment with an advisor took my entire lunchtime and I had no choice but go to class empty-handed and hungry. By 2 pm, I was exhausted and more than a little irritated. I had barely gone through half a day and I was already wishing the day could come to an end so I can start anew. And out of pure habit, I sat down on the bench outside my classroom and slowly closed my eyes…
Darkness clouded my vision. I was first greeted with silence, but as my ears adjusted to the surroundings, sounds came rushing in. The slight crunch of the autumn leaves that had long left the tall branches of the overhead trees, underneath passerby’s feet. An occasional rustle of – perhaps a squirrel or a rabbit – hustling to gather food before snow covered the ground. The mixture of different footsteps of people passing by…some heavy and slow, some light and quick. The swish of the backpack against an undergraduate’s jacket.
Then followed touch. The prickly – not yet numbing – feeling of my cheeks, eyelids, and forehead as the chilly November wind playfully blew on my vulnerable face, heralding the coming of winter. The remaining warmth underneath my winter coat, slowly seeping through the seams despite all attempts to keep it in. The ice-cold touch of the metal bench on my fingertips. The tingly feeling in my feet that were in boots half a size too small.
Next came smell, a subtle visitor, bringing with it the smell of food. A tangy smell, the kind that slipped into your nose and made you shiver a little on the inside – perhaps it was a take out from Panda Express. A gust of wind that cleared it away, followed by a floral scent that lingered a while before gently floating away, giving room for more surprises.
And finally, I took in a deep breath, taste. Cold, mind-clearing air that jolted my eyes open.
I was back in the colorful, ever hustling and bustling Penn State campus, sitting outside on a sunny autumn day. The events that had happened in the morning seemed so far away and so small and insignificant. I was reminded once again that life can be chaotic, but simplicities also existed. All I had to do was close my eyes.
