Do we get it right. I’ve no idea though no doubt people cleverer than me have written a book about it or more like three. Still it is that we focus on: the eyes and then the face when first we say hello, trying to gauge the stranger’s sense of life. Is he one of us or someone strange, warm, benevolent or simply dangerous. What secret plans does his manner coat, or is he really open to the new. Is he reaching out to ,or sizing up, the person that he sees, looking at you
Whats his game, or is there no game at all. Full of love or spinning for advantage. We’ve made our mind up before we even know. Ascribing reason to instincts judgement. Are they a gem or from some warring tribe. Lovely of spirit or scarred by histories we cannot measure.
Are those hard eyes full of certainties, bordering on madness or just challenge. You know the ones: he thinks he’s found some truth or wants what you might have or just admiration without regard to doubts or what you’ve done. Either way you cling to what you know: understanding is gentle and judgment often harsh
Sometimes we seem lonely in a crowd, then drowning in attention we don’t seek: those prying eyes: what do they know?
So we move on wary despite our dreams hoping for some sweet world were only the gentle dwell, picnicking in sunshine in the park while fearless deer eat titbits from our palms. Perhaps strutting on some walkway of our choice, feeding off applause our beauty brings, and basking in the admiration that fails to see, the effort that it takes just to create, the image that they take as being simply me. Fame has its curse, we all know that, though living obscurely I can only guess the cost. Being judged by many not the few, searching for privacy far from the lensman’s eye.
So we forge on, hope kept alive by dreams, that somewhere in this sea of lives we meet the gaze that feels something like a home, accepting us as part of them and where they go. That common dream brings confidence to our plans and making more of us than judgements ever do.