“Seeing is believing,” they say, but just as often, you hear, “You won’t believe your eyes,” so which is it?
I’m sort of skeptical of eyewitness accounts, especially in the kingdom of the blind, where the one-eyed man is king and since ours is a world in which people continually turn a blind eye towards suffering, it’s easy enough to see (even if you’re sightless) that just because someone believes they saw something is little reason to believe they saw it.
I could show you what I mean, but that wouldn’t prove anything other than that you have eyes, a fact you’d never have known unless you looked in a mirror.
Being nearsighted, I may have a myopic perspective on all this and I’ll be the first to admit (especially after the water-boarding) that I probably don’t see things as clearly as I should. Nevertheless, even if I can’t see the nose on my own face, I am able to discern between the forest and the trees; the latter being mainly conifers, the former including winding paths and lots of mycelium.
Moreover, I’d rather take the long view, which affords me a God’s eye perspective; the problem with that is since God is not Cyclops, I fail to perceive depth accurately and run right into a telephone pole I had visualized as somewhere much farther down the street.
I used to think there would come a time, where, as my presbyopia worsened, my nearsightedness would be perfectly counteracted so that, for a brief period, I wouldn’t need glasses at all. It hasn’t quite worked that way, although, as luck would have it, I am finally at the point where not only are things blurry up close, but they’re also fuzzy far away, in addition to being cloudy in the middle. Consequently, I never have to worry that I might be missing something—the way things stand now, I can be utterly confident that I am, sight unseen.
I’m sort of skeptical of eyewitness accounts, especially in the kingdom of the blind, where the one-eyed man is king and since ours is a world in which people continually turn a blind eye towards suffering, it’s easy enough to see (even if you’re sightless) that just because someone believes they saw something is little reason to believe they saw it.
I could show you what I mean, but that wouldn’t prove anything other than that you have eyes, a fact you’d never have known unless you looked in a mirror.
Being nearsighted, I may have a myopic perspective on all this and I’ll be the first to admit (especially after the water-boarding) that I probably don’t see things as clearly as I should. Nevertheless, even if I can’t see the nose on my own face, I am able to discern between the forest and the trees; the latter being mainly conifers, the former including winding paths and lots of mycelium.
Moreover, I’d rather take the long view, which affords me a God’s eye perspective; the problem with that is since God is not Cyclops, I fail to perceive depth accurately and run right into a telephone pole I had visualized as somewhere much farther down the street.
I used to think there would come a time, where, as my presbyopia worsened, my nearsightedness would be perfectly counteracted so that, for a brief period, I wouldn’t need glasses at all. It hasn’t quite worked that way, although, as luck would have it, I am finally at the point where not only are things blurry up close, but they’re also fuzzy far away, in addition to being cloudy in the middle. Consequently, I never have to worry that I might be missing something—the way things stand now, I can be utterly confident that I am, sight unseen.
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