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Writer's pictureRachel Gwilym

Does Lying Make You Blind?

Updated: Aug 21





There is a direct correlation between the stress of lying and strain in the eyes according to Bates, the father of natural eyesight improvement. I’ve found this assertion surprisingly resonant. I spent my childhood lying for reasons I can no longer fully access. Although I was an early reader and natural academic, from the outset of my schooling, I found school tests extremely stressful. I would hide from my parents upcoming spelling or maths tests, and keep secret the results even if they were good. The opprobrium of feeling such anxiety, the fear of being judged, or some other incomprehensible reason compounded the overall tension in my system.


At the age 11 I vividly recall lying in bed and noticing that I couldn’t pick out the ceiling cornice clearly. Squinting and unsquinting, I could tell something was amiss. However, instead of seeking out an adult’s assistance, I pushed the anxiety that I couldn’t see properly as far out of reach as I could. The thought of it made me feel sick - not so much the possibility of glasses, but something to do with the shame of it. I can still recall the feeling quality of this odious self-loathing - some part of it must still loiter in a cranny of my psyche.


I grew up in an Evangelical Baptist Church where the doctrines of original sin and hellfire were dished up to pre-schoolers as if they were Sunday treats. I digested every morsel and my immature psyche succumbed to this poison early on. I believed it wholeheartedly and was secretly terrified that I hadn’t said the correct prayer properly and therefore counted amongst the unsaved. I think it was my abject terror of being judged and found wanting that made me so secretive. The church was a la la land of cheery songs, clapping hands and effusive descriptions of a loving god which made comprehending the horror that lurked beneath well nigh impossible. Today I’d call it gaslighting.


This soul sapping diet also made me afraid of the ‘outside’ world where Satan preyed on the unsuspecting. 20/20 vision brought way too much clarity so, as I proceeded through secondary school, my increasingly blurred vision created a hazy refuge around me. How it didn’t come to the attention of the adults in my life beats me. I wasn’t uncared for and I went to respectable schools but I guess I hid it well and my efforts to be invisible were successful.


When, at 17 I got my driver’s licence, there was no more pretence. The optician was bemused and shocked to discover that I couldn’t even read the first and largest letter on the chart!


Thirty-five years on, I noticed my eyesight suddenly deteriorate. I know, I know, it’s my age, or so the narrative goes. However, I’m still finding it worthwhile to dig a little deeper. My sudden inability to read coincided with a shift of feeling in an important friendship. I’ve called it love, but on closer examination, it could be labelled neediness. A Course in Miracles identifies anger as the emotion that binds egos in a pretence of love. My spiritual development is still too fledgling to fully apprehend this but I do recognise how quickly love has given way to anger in past relationships. In this particular case, I felt so radiant that I didn’t doubt its divine origin. And, this is where the lie came in; I denied to myself what I was asking of him and only perceived the tip of the iceberg when I felt angry that he hadn’t sent me a handwritten letter. It was fair, reasoned the ego, to expect a paper response to my missive, even though he’d composed a thoughtful and kind email. I noticed the anger more intensely on my birthday when a card inscribed in a cursive hand didn’t drop through my letterbox, and my surreptitious hope that I would ever be in possession of such a document, dashed.


Such a trivial disappointment could surely not be the cause of instantaneous long sightedness? What I can say is that my ability to read returned when I tended my pain and invited love to guide me towards the antidote. It seems to me that clocking these apparently inconsequential shifts from the idea of love to anger is essential spiritual toil if we are to know love, unguarded and resplendently unconditional. I can’t say anything more weighty than this. I have reached the outer limits of my spiritual cognisance. The ACIM account of love and anger rankles all the while it reveals something I already know in my experience to be true. Perhaps tomorrow there’ll be some shift in consciousness, some revelation of true love that I can write about.


In the meantime, I wrote my love for this man , flawed as it is, in the sand and let the sea take my words out into the deep ocean where they are being tossed by the great salt mother. My love, my sadness, my anger foaming and leaping on the waves until just love remains to be washed up on the shores of his being asking for nothing and giving everything.


If you are having to confront anger on your journey towards unconditional love and would appreciate 20/20 vision, book a free call with me and I’ll share with you how the Grief Recovery Method can be a companion to your heart.




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