The Windows of the SoulA Story by CaroleOur eyes reveal much more than what any of us realize. This is a detailed account of a few things I have learned in the counseling ministry I am involved in.The Windows of the Soul The eyes, they say, are the windows of the soul. Though I was familiar with that expression most of my life, my knowledge on the subject was limited until I came face to face with the reality and the truth. Now that I am involved in a Christian counseling ministry, that certitude has become a greater and more pronounced verity.
Though the eyes are a big key to what is held in the heart of a man, facial expressions, body language, and general behaviors are further keys and provide a head-heart connection to what an individual is going through.
When counselees walk into my office I can look at them and get a relatively good idea of what they are going through and what some of the issues are that they are dealing with.
Reading people is part of what I do, and not in the “Physic sense.” Though it is intuition, it is also what I term “discernment,” that has been given me by the spirit of God, whom imparts this knowledge to me.
There’s the mother that just lost a teen to gang violence or a woman that lost a lifelong partner of fifty-plus years. The grief that outlines these faces is unmistakable. Dejection, manifesting in a drawn face and a lost and hollow look is common place. Their countenance is laden with perplexity as they ask themselves: What now? Where do I go from here? As their world stands still, they release a flood of emotion, the dam within breaks, and a river of tears is released. I offer them a box of tissues and they dab their eyes as each tear falls to the blue carpet and my brown vinyl wing back chair in my office in abandon. I sit beside them with my assistant and a reassuring touch and a caring hug to comfort them and empathize with them and to assure them that life will go on. Looking deep within the windows of this soul, I see a lost and worrisome look that blankets their face as they sit stunned by their sudden loss. The corners of their lips are turned slightly downward. Their drawn eyes indicate grief, worry, and anxiety that is coursing through every fiber of their being. The entire world stands still as the numbness of grieving their loss sets in like the harsh reality of suddenly being hit head on by a semi-truck.
Who among us cannot see the worried, the anxiety ridden, or the depressed? The impending sense of gloom that hangs over them like a cloud and the broken-heartedness written over every square inch of their face is as clear as the blue sky after a rain. You can literally cut the heaviness with a knife. Some of these are addicted to worry. Somehow “doing” something about their situation by the simple act of worrying brings a morbid sense of comfort, without realizing the damaging effects and the toll it is taking on their bodies. It is all they know. If they aren’t obsessing or worrying about something, they feel lost and incomplete. They say that 90% of all that we worry about never comes to pass. Thought provoking, isn’t it?
Again, anxiety and worry are constant give aways and can be recognized a mile away. A furrowed brow, biting the lower lip, fingernail biting, cracking knuckles, fiddling with fingers, and every other nervous habit you can think of adorns this one. My dad use to get up to have his morning coffee, sit at our kitchen table with a cigarette in one hand and rub his eyebrows with the forefingers of his opposite hand as if to somehow massage away the stress and tension.
I wonder if someone would have studied the windows of my soul and my facial expressions and body language as we boarded American airlines flight 1360 to Dallas, Texas what they might have presumed about what was going on inside of me? As I studied the faces of people waiting to board our flight, I couldn’t help but wonder if 9-11 sparked a newfound anxiety that once never darkened the door of their souls. It certainly appeared as such to me. Flying is not my favorite form of transportation and though statistics say it is notoriously safer than to travel by ground, there’s something about having to trust that big piece of metal and the pilot and co-pilot to get it off the ground and into the air and then to stay on course without incident, that completely unnerves me. Though the duration of our trip was only an hour and ten minutes, the thought of taking off and landing had riled up my stomach to the point of doing somersaults. While some find this exhilarating, the same individuals that are willing to stand in line for hours at Six Flags to ride the roller coasters that leave you hanging upside down from one ear twenty-five times during the ride, I sit there intent upon peeing my pants, not willing to get up and walk 5-10 feet to the miniature bathroom to relieve myself.
I had seated myself next to my husband in row seven with him next to the window and me on the aisle. As the plane began to taxi onto the runway my hands immediately felt like I had just stepped into a sauna precariously placed inside an igloo. Apprehension and anxiety began rolling across the movie screen of my face. With my eyes the size of saucers anticipating the momentary take off, my body became tense and my heart rate began elevating as I braced myself. I closed my eyes and silently began praying and meditating on a scripture I had committed to memory for such an occasion. “Oh Lord, I trust that you have sent the angels before us to prepare the way” and then I began reciting “He will keep in perfect peace whose mind has stayed on thee…He will keep in perfect peace whose mind has stayed on thee.” It was then that I saw them-the army of angels upholding the bottom of the plane as it lifted off and I heard the spirit of the Lord say, “I will lift you up as on the wings of an eagle and you will soar…” adding His personal sentiment that only made sense to me. An immediate sense of peace and comfort blanketed me. I kept my eyes closed until we had reached thirty-three thousand feet of altitude only taking a couple of short glimpses out of my husband’s window at Albuquerque below me at the brilliantly displayed brown patchwork quilt of the land below and then secondly as we ascended through the wispy white cotton cloud cover.
What might have been the windows of my soul, my facial expressions and body language have told someone? Could they have read the anxiety, the stress or the worry? Probably. If tiny electrodes had been attached to my body and nerve endings, what would the meter reveal about the level of tenseness coursing through my body?
I can read anger, hate, discord, rage, strife, revenge, frustration, and impatience. Most of the time, these can be cut with a knife. There’s the usual furrowed brow, glaring eyes and a tenseness that abounds.
Look into the eyes of any known murderer or rapist and you will rarely see a happy-go-lucky countenance unless they have become literal masters at deception. If they do smile, it will be a wild and crazy manic smile. The few times I have seen pictures of Charlie Manson, convicted murderer of L. A. movie star Sharon Tate, and several others in the L.A. mansion in the 60’s, it literally sent chills up my spine. The windows of this convicted killer’s soul purport the crazed look of a raging maniac that to my knowledge has never shown one ounce of remorse for his rampage but has continued to revel in it for forty plus years.
Pride, arrogance and self-righteousness are very easy to read. Those that carry these, have an air about them. A subtle look of disgust directed towards what they consider to be low life human beings, a lofty look that says “I have arrived and you better pay attention to ME. After all, I am SOMEBODY. It is MY opinion that matters most here. It is MY way or the highway, do you hear ME?” Body expressions are the biggest give away here. A head held high with a nose stretching to the ceiling and near perfect posture that glides through the room looking for the red carpet runner so they can make their grand entrance. Haughty sneers and rolling their eyes are par for the course. I use to have a friend, and I use that term loosely, that had a habit of flipping her silky brown locks into the face of anyone standing a shoulders length away from her. I had my face swept so many times by that 100% human hair O’ Cedar that I found myself mumbling, “Where are the darned scissors when you need them?”
Bitterness, resentment, unforgiveness, and jealousy can be easily hidden but are most likely to be heard in little comments. “Who does SHE think she is? Why does HE always get the blasted promotions? Doesn’t my boss know that I’ve been working here longer than that blankety-blank-blank-blank? Jealousy can cause one to deliberately avoid a person using the lack of acknowledgement to control and to justify feelings without realizing doing that is a dead giveaway. Jealousy not only never acknowledges, it is rarely happy when others climb the corporate ladder whether with or without us.
Guilt, shame, and remorse are tightly interconnected with anxiety and worry and give way to the same looks.
Peace, happiness, joy and contentment are emotions that we long for and are also evident on those that carry them. The windows of this soul reveal a gentle softness and and a countenance filled with light. The corners of the lips are upturned and relaxed. Being around the peaceful and the content, the happy and joy filled person, brings a sense of safety and serenity to those that have war torn and rugged souls from the trials of life. Their soothing words are like a healing balm that penetrates our hearts and our souls lending to a peaceful calm that envelopes those around them. It makes us yearn for the same peace-filled existence and a heart and soul that is at rest and at peace deep within. What, we ask, is their secret to this peace and contentment? Yes, the windows of the soul reveal the inner workings of the inner man. They are avid indicators of tumultuous turmoil or the river of peace dwelling in the very heart of man.
As we begin to study mankind, those we rub shoulders with on the subway, at the bus stop, at the grocery store or shopping malls, on the streets as we take our morning walks or jogs, and yes, even at the local Starbucks, let us look past the outer appearance for deep inside the soul of a man, it is here that the truth of who they are, dwells. Might we have a key to lance the infected heart so that the wound could be drained gently and carefully? Might we have access to a hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic salve in the way of words that we can apply to this one’s heart?
Awe, yes! The eyes are the windows of the soul. What lies deep within the heart of man that we can help heal? Each of us has been given a probe along with the ability to doctor, nurse or nurture. Use it gently and softly as you take a deep look inside the windows of the soul and heart of mankind.
You can be a part of the problem or a part of the solution. Some only gaze momentarily at the windows of the soul that encase the infected heart and quickly turn away. Some are willing to use their probes to bring healing that could change a nation one person at a time. © 2009 CaroleFeatured Review
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17 Reviews Added on February 5, 2008 Last Updated on January 1, 2009 AuthorCaroleRio Rancho, NMAboutThere comes a point in your life when you realize: Who matters, Who never did, Who won't anymore... And who always will. So, don't worry about people from your past, there's a reason why they didn.. more..Writing
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