The Eyes... what's with them?

Folk Woman was a theme driven by a healing journey, specifically mine. The first time I heard the following term, I was just a child but it made so much sense. My Kindergarten teacher in Prince Rupert taught me early on how to "Actively Listen," long before it was popularized among teachers. She taught me to sit still and use my eyes and ears to collect information like a detective. Not long after I learned that eyes don't just help communicate, they are the doorway to the soul. Some popular saying are that eyes are the "seat" of the soul. I disagree in a literal way. If merely the seat, then that would mean that the soul is always on display in the eyes, but they are not. Instead, eyes are a doorway. Sometimes, the doorway is closed deliberately and you cannot see the soul. Sometimes the doorway is open and all is illuminated as if lit from behind. The whole map can almost be seen of the things that built the soul standing in front of you.

Sometimes I stare and it creeps people out, but I study people all the time. One of my favourite ways to spend time on maternity leave was when my child was having their mid-morning nap. I would park myself and their stroller at a table at Starbucks. It was situated on Main street in Whitehorse, Yukon, and I would watch as folks moved themselves up and down the sidewalk. I'd watch traffic through the large picture windows. I'd bring my laptop and write. When in need to take a sip of coffee, my brain could rest by watching an unknown person do something. Baby would sleep. I could actually get something done. I would feel inspired by the life and viatality of the souls around me.

That time in my life was hot and cold. Some days were great and others were terrible and I suffered quite a bit during that time. I felt so lost in those years after my child was born. My child was my highest concern; so much so that I often hyper-focused on tending to them and often failed to realize my own needs. I look back now at old photos, it's all in my eyes. Even when photographed smiling there's an expression I see in my eyes that I can't quite place. It's familiar but I've only seen it in others faces, never my own. What is that? I wonder when I stare at photos from that time.

When I look at others' eyes, I see a whole story. It's not hard for me to read people usually unless they're trying really hard to be unreadable. I can see that too.


The eyes are as unique as a fingerprint. The colours in the eyes are determined by your genes. The health of your eyes are determined by diet and cardiac health levels, and even liver disease can be seen in the eyes.


The eyes are significant, evidence of the presence of another perspective besides our own. Another "I Am."


If I think and therefore can reason that "I am" in the Cartesian practice, and I can see evidence in your eyes that you think, are capable of thinking, or have thought, then it reasonably stands that you too "Are." Your eyes are the evidence of your life, mind, and ultimately - soul. The eye is an important element to me. They are a direct transportation mechanism of the body to carry information to the brain, they have a massive amount of expressive muscles framing them. Not only do they carry information then but they also convey it. These conveyances are a subtle form of communication.

I know that the eyes, even without words, can have a full conversation. I know this because when you are in a place where you are not allowed to speak, or talk, those eyes they can convey and communicate so much. I've asked for help with my eyes and I've cried with laughter with my eyes. My eyes are immensely important to me. I am a witness in this life. My eyes make that possible.

Further, I am called to witness others and their stories. I cannot tell you who or what this calling is about, but since I was a child I have always wanted to connect humans. I've wanted to connect beautiful souls and stories. I enjoy using my hyper-sensitivity and empathy (from autism) to tell passionate stories, sing moving songs, or write terrific tales.

My eyes have witnessed things, painful things. My eyes have expressed my own pain. I have made a commitment to continue witnessing. For this reason, I believe in supporting all people in telling their stories. I believe that the support of a whole community is supposed to help people transform when they are hurting their community, but without the community, we end up with ghosts. I have been a ghost with only eyes. I have felt that my words, my art, my stories, weren't going to be enough so why try?

But my eyes communicated something else. My eyes were shallow, guarded, tight muscles. Clenched jaw. Pain is visible in a community. Pain is obvious if you look in someone's eyes but so too is joy. The shine and glitter of laughter in the eyes is irreplaceable. Watching people's joy is mostly better than receiving joy unless of course you know that being joyful will improve your partner's own happiness.

The eye (logo) is a compounding of several clip arts that I enjoyed that confirm certain symbols for me: the eye itself, the compass with four and eight directions, and finally the globular shape of the pupil which connects me to what I am seeing: people, the earth, the rivers, the air, the oceans, and animals. I hear things too but only after my eyes have told me that I am safe.

Eyes are the seat of the soul, and I only wish to lay mine own bare.