If you read my last posting here you might remember the story of an unusual healing I underwent, the apparent result of an experiment in utilizing the potential of energies that I've observed coursing through my arms and into my hands. It was certainly a surprise to me, one that was encouraging yet perplexing. The little jeffy in me, the skeptical one, was unconvinced. Alternately, Big Jeff simply echoed the comment from a friend who had read the account - Why not? I decided there was a need to experiment further, and an opportunity quickly presented itself.
Soon after the period of the mysterious healing I decided the eyeglasses I had been wearing for several years were scratched beyond help and in need of replacement. I went in to the shop to order a new pair and was informed that the prescription had expired and I was in need of a new examination. That seemed like an annoying expense, but I acceded and set up an appointment with my ophthalmologist. Little did I know that I would be in for a surprise.
After all of the usual mini-tortures that come with an eye exam, the doctor informed me that not only did I need a stronger eyeglass prescription, but that he had detected unusually high pressure inside my eyes and had spotted signs of early stage glaucoma. He explained that glaucoma was the result of this high pressure squeezing on the optical nerve at the back of the eye, and over time this pressure would cause a gradual decrease in peripheral vision, eventually leading to a kind of tunnel vision. He also explained that if caught early -as it was, hopefully, in my case - it could be treated, and so he referred me to have a more thorough examination at an eye surgery clinic in the area.
As you might imagine this was rather unpleasant news, exasperated by the fact that I am a dedicated VISUAL artist. As so many come to realize, getting old sucks!!!! I was unsettled, but the news of possible treatment was at least a bit encouraging. After mulling things over for a couple of days I decided the best thing to do was to get the whole picture as quickly as possible, so I called the clinic to make an appointment. They had received my referral and I was on file, but this was a busy clinic and the earliest time I could get was six weeks out. So much for quick. I agreed to the date and time and resigned myself to waiting it out.
Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for I realized this was the opportunity to experiment once again with the kundalini energies coursing through me. I immediately integrated into my almost daily kundalini session a focused meditation, similar to the one I described in my last post concerning the skin blemish. In each session, once I could feel the energies strongly flowing into my hands, I would raise my arms together, then lower them until the palms of the hands hovered just over my eyes - right hand over right eye, left over left. Every time, within seconds, that particular indescribable sensation that some label prana would envelope my eyes. In my mind I imagined the prana working to return each eye to its natural, healthy state. Two or three minutes would pass, at which point I would raise my hands high again, then return them to my side.
Did I believe this was going to make a difference? Big Jeff simply suggested, why not? On the other hand little jeffy counseled, don't hold your breath. You might say the totality of me didn't believe this would work, but nonetheless had faith that something good would come of it. At the least this faith allowed me to cut back on some of the anxiety and go about my day to day business with a degree of equanimity, where eventually it became a back burner issue in my life...until the day before the exam, when little jeffy started to lose it with flashes of anxiety. Interestingly, Big Jeff held his calm, repeating over and over to the little guy the simple question - why not? And guess what? The calming advice worked. By the day of the exam little jeffy was, if not exactly enthusiastic, at least mostly stoic about what was to be revealed.
And so I, meaning the totality of me, walked fairly calmly into the clinic. In fact, looking back on it now, I'm surprised at how calm I was. This was quite possibly a life changing moment, yet I simply arrived, spoke pleasantly with the attendant at the desk, and submitted to a barrage of bizarre vision tests - modern medicine, as good as it supposedly is, is a madman's technological nightmare. I had no idea what was being done to me, or for what purpose. Room after room of crazy machines to stick my head into, barraging my eyes with unspeakably crazy light effects intended to tease out how far I have deviated from normal eye health. After an hour of this I was led to a quiet room, where I received eye drops to dilate my eyes, being told that after 20 minutes the drops would take effect and a doctor would examine me.
I had brought a book, anticipating possible long waiting times. It was one I was re-reading at the time, titled "The Time Falling Bodies Take To Light", an irony I only just now see. It's a fascinating book examining the beginnings of language and culture in very early Homo Sapien life as long as 100,00 years ago. Surprisingly, I became completely absorbed in the book despite the coming verdict from the doctor. When he arrived he put me through a detailed examination of my eyes, yet for the first time since I arrived I felt I was being examined by a DOCTOR, not a machine. He was a nice guy. The assistant he brought was a nice gal. They worked smoothly together, and I was comforted in a weird way.
Then the verdict came. I just listened with no anxiety, no expectation. Whatever was coming, I was ready for it. The doctor said, rather simply, that I had no high pressure in my eyes. I had no signs of glaucoma. He recommended I come back in a year for another exam, but otherwise I was OK.
You can imagine the shit-eating grin on my face as I heard this verdict, partially disguised from the doctor by the covid mask I was wearing. As I left, driving home with my temporary sunglasses shielding me from the intense light entering my still-dilated eyes, I considered the possible implications. Maybe my ophthalmologist had made a mistake, had misdiagnosed my situation. Or perhaps, just perhaps, prana had done its work.
Why not?
To be continued...
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