It’s Hard to See Without Clear Vision by Linda Jones

Printed in the Conscious Creation Journal
October-November 2000, Issue 14

It’s Hard to See Without Clear Vision
by Linda Jones

I used to look at her with a glare so sharp that it caught her attention. She had been the meanest child I had. And each time I saw that side of her I would call her evil.

But as she sat there calling her children half-maggots and half leeches — I didn’t see any evil, I saw pain. And it was like looking into a mirror. The glare was so sharp that it got my attention — as she said between tight lips — “They are part maggots and part leeches. But they don’t do like other leeches. When leeches get full they pop open and die. Get it over with. And some maggots do evolve. But they don’t. You can’t psychoanalyze me, because I hate them. They drain me of all my energy with their bullshit. I don’t ask for much. If they would just sit down and shut up everything would be all right, but the girl lies and the boy whines. They make me sick.  Just cause I am having a rough time right now, they try to make me feel like I am a bad  mother. I hate them.”

Her eyes were fire red and her skin was turning darker with each painful word she uttered. Finally her voice went quiet as the waves began to roll in — slowly at first, gently threatening to burst against the very walls of my soul.

And she took a deep breath and continued to sputter out painful words — trying to find a way out. Her words thundered so loud that it busted down any illusions I had about who I was looking at. Damn these mirrors! — I thought.

But my heart stayed calm. My mind became sharp and focus. My words retreated into sweet understanding and spoke in such softness that it could only come from a mother’s deep love. And the tears came rolling down her face like a waterfall, landing within my very being — filling me up — and I became a sponge.

You see — my daughter – she is me.

And for the first time in my life I realized that I was looking at a real reality shift – wounded, raw and wild. And my bowel ached.

Calmly I rose up and lay her body down upon my bed. Put my two pillows beneath her head. I took out my healing kit, which I selfishly hoard — for my personal needs.

Two Princess Marcella Borghese Botanico Eye Compresses, chilled to perfection
Four Drops of Bausch & Lomb Computer Eye Drops
Four Drops of Bausch & Lomb All Clear Eye Drops
Six Drops of Refresh Tears

It took me fifteen minutes to bring her eyes back alive. And all for the price of a tiny little smile, threatening to curl upward …   I, a die-heart hermit — got in my car — with the automatic transmission — compared to her stick shift – would be a smoother ride — I handed her the keys and we drove to Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors — her seat belt buckled for safety, mines unused.

When I finished dinner, with the help of my grandson, who was happy to be there. He, personally, prepared his mother some Jiffy cornbread muffins, her favorite. Whispering to her in-between preparation and finish that they would melt in her mouth. Turning her head towards him, she laughingly asked, where they were. When he served her one in front of the TV, while she laid back in a comfortable recliner, it made her eyes sparkle and her tight lips spread out in a smile so broad that it covered her face. And just for a second she looked at him with eyes of love.

Yes, I thought, as I witnessed this scene. These maggots have evolved into leeches that have learned how to remain alive and whole  — All they required was clear vision.

You see if the truth be told, I am not feeling my cheerios. It’s not the wheel with a hole in it that concerns me. It’s the tree that won’t bend with the wind, that’s aimed towards the place where my family sleeps in blissful ignorance.

When I awaken I called the tree remover and the price was no object to relocate that stubborn tree, alive, in a safe place.

All I needed was clear vision — to see —  that when love is
unconditional everybody wins.

©2000, Linda Jones.   Printed in the Oct-Nov 2000 Issue of the Conscious Creation Journal. (Feel free to duplicate this article for personal use – please include this copyright notice.)
Linda is a mother of five, grandmother of nine. She was born in a place called the Delta, which is located in the State of Mississippi, but lived most of her life in Texas. She loves sharing herself via her writing and poetry. She believes in the sisterhood of all women and the oneness of all things.