My inward eye

The Inward Eye





A few years ago, Pat Conroy (Prince of Tides, Beach Music) and I shared a correspondence. In one of his e-mails, he wrote, “You write very well but I would advise you, and its given in the most brotherly way, to keep developing the inward eye, the one that sees everything you do and why you do it. That inward eye now tortures you, but one day it might bring you peace.” He later wrote, “You are on the road where the dark truths lay hidden from you...but you will find them and have found people who love you to help you on the way. It sounds like the makings of a good life to me.”

My inward eye, now, tortures me. It leads me down the dimmest of corridors. It’s fearless. Yet, I’m not. I’m still the frightened boy that I once was. I’m scarred and alone but I am changed. I know, now, that fear no longer drives me. I am driven by a deep abysmal hunger that leaves me eager to follow any light that will lead me towards the truth.

An inward eye moves with indiscriminate reason as I write. It tramples over fear-built fences that once stood to shelter a bevy of the unacceptable. I feel unsteady as I watch the pillars of naïve wisdom, crumble. I, then, stand amongst my truths, and find each one of them is saturated in paused pain. I understand, then, the meaning of another man’s words. Amidst Mr. Conroy’s dark truths, I understand that I must experience, now, what I refused to feel then.

You see, my naiveté once led me, the frightened child, to a place where I could hide from dying. I learned to accept to live without promise so I could breath without interruption. I learned to espouse to a flawed wisdom. I proselytized those who stole from me, hoping my loyalty would convince them to leave enough of me when they were done taking.

My journey insists that I keep moving, chasing close behind my inward eye. My darkness pulls me into the seas of old sin. I am forever moving like a mindless shark, imprisoned by its hunger, forging onward while others in the world rest. I hope a day will soon find me. I hope to find a day where this inward eye is no longer needed. I hope to rest then. I hope to rest in a world unlike my father’s. I hope a satisfied hunger leads me to find a peace big enough to house my wife and daughter, so they will never be forced to build fences to keep from dying. Until then, I will carry this promise with me as I move and I’ll listen to it when I’m most desperate. I’ll nod and speak words that only I can hear. I’ll say, “Sounds like the makings of a good life to me.”





You can also read more from me on my blog.  www.nedomalley.blogspot.com or hear my music at www.nedomalley.com