Most of us view life with myopic, or short-sighted vision — even when we don’t wear dark glasses. This is a skewed idea. It is also objective delusion, because eye-surgeons too look at vision in our eye — not from our mind’s perspective — notwithstanding the use of advanced technological gadgets. In other words, it is all in your mind’s eye. Nevertheless, new conventional evidence shows that the more stressed we are, the greater is the loss of our peripheral, if not central vision. It also connects psychological stress with eyestrain.
Our myopic vision goes far beyond day-to-day life, our highs and lows, our prejudices and impartiality. It envelopes the mystical aspect of what we may pride oneself with — spiritual vision. Yet, as Paracelsus, the legendary ancient physician and alchemist, said, “Life is like music, it must be composed by ear, feeling and instinct, not by rule.” This holds good for our vision — myopic and faultless vision. It connects us to the eye just as it does to the mind. This is best paraphrased by an old saying, “The eyes do not see what the mind does not know.” Call it the high plane of human thought. On the downside, however, a new illness is spreading like an epidemic in our mind’s eye. It is characterised by a strong, dominant syndrome — the uncontainable urge to buy and purchase every kind of gadget. It does not matter whether the gadget is useful, or not. “My neighbour has it; so, I should have it too.” It fulfils a transitory vacuum, or swift gratification.
This nutty race to own and flaunt new acquisitions or high-tech devices is nothing short of dependence. The more, the merrier, because each new buy fulfils a promise to pacify a fervent yearning for emotional orgasm. The fact of the matter is — the entire excursion is fleeting. It is momentary; it is also self-limiting. It is a sort of a delight, which is not enduring too. Yet, its addictive intent is all-encompassing — one feels fulfilled only when the next acquisition is made to enchant the inner impulse anew. This leads to a vicious cycle. When the drive to buy becomes a community enterprise, it is the product that laughs its way to the bank — not the buyer, because no amount of peripheral gizmos can offer a sense of inner harmony. We all know about this folly, yet it is in the ‘fitness’ of things that we ‘root’ for it to keep us shopping until we drop. It connects us to a spiritual void — not inner fulfilment.
Not many people today think that nature, the seasons, the rivers, lakes and mountains, emerged before we arrived. Many of us also don’t care a damn for conventional wisdom and its responses to endless issues of life. On the contrary, most of us — more so, Generation Next — feel that we are the masters of all we survey, if not the universe. Think of the state-of-the-art innovatory device that can record your blood pressure, or sugar levels, by the minute, help you travel the world by booking tickets at the click of the mouse, or utilise the iPod etc., we are all on song. In other words, we have acquired god’s realm, or so one reckons at present. This has paradoxically upset the materialistic applecart, no less. It has led us to an innate desire to satiate our ‘new-found’ spiritual hunger, including the need to seek divine answers to life’s innumerable questions that revolutionary gadgets cannot answer. If this isn’t a compelling, common ground for us to frantically seek god, at retreats and spiritual conventions, what is?