I poked holes in some plastic yogurt bins, filled them with potting soil and sowed herb seeds. I never fail to be amazed by the speed with which sturdy green sprouts unfurl from those tiny black beads. They seem to know exactly what to do, these seedings. They reach for the sunlight with both leaves. They reach for the water and soil with translucent surprisingly strong roots. And in between those new green leaves and those slender roots, they stretch and stretch.
Observing another person is so much easier than being that person. It is as though each of us has on a miner’s hat with a bright lamp on the front. We can see for some distance in any direction we turn our heads, but we cannot see ourselves. Only others can do that.
But as we look at others in the light of our lamps, we do not truly see them either. We see the outside only, clothing, hair, makeup, skin. A human’s heart shines in his eyes, but for the most part all we see when we look at another’s eyes is our own reflection.