Practical Ways to See Differently

I’ve lived much of my life with a wandering eye. Not just glancing around cafés in Tapovan, not just noticing faces on the street — but in the deeper sense: moving quickly from one thing to another. From art to music, from one idea to the next, from one dream to another. Never resting. Always searching.

And I’ve realised something simple but hard to accept: when the eyes keep moving, the mind keeps moving. There’s no grounding, no stillness, no depth.

Yoga, strangely, turned my attention to the eyes. It showed me that they aren’t just instruments of vision — they are gates of energy, anchors of the mind. They shape how we feel, how we move, how we connect.

Balance and drishti

The first lesson was balance. In tree pose, warrior three, any posture where the ground shakes under you — it isn’t the leg that betrays you. It’s the eyes. When I fix my gaze on one single point, the body organises itself around that anchor. One gaze, one centre. And suddenly the chaos steadies.

Softness and rest

Then I discovered how much tension hides in the eyes. They harden without me realising. They push, they grip. But when I let them soften — even imagine they are smiling — the whole system shifts. Soft eyes, soft body. I find myself breathing easier. It is subtle, but it changes everything.

Looking inward

Meditation, too, is not just closing the eyes. It is directing them inward. At the heart. At the space between the eyebrows. That simple inward gaze draws me away from the noise outside. It’s not about blocking thoughts. It’s about seeing from a different angle.

Tratak and the flame

And then there is tratak. Staring at a candle flame until tears come. Staying with the discomfort. Then closing the eyes and watching the inner flame glow. It feels raw, cleansing. In those moments, I see how much the eyes carry weight that isn’t mine — and how letting the flame burn through it gives me back a piece of clarity.

The eyes of compassion

But beyond the mat is where the real test lies. The wandering eye still lives in me. It wants to dart, to consume, to compare. Yet I’ve noticed that when I consciously choose to look at someone with compassion, something transforms. The eyes themselves begin to radiate softness. The gaze becomes love. And in that moment, the whole space shifts. Not just for me — for the other too.

I am not a guru. I’m not offering rules. I’m an explorer, still learning to live this.

For me, this is the journey: turning the wandering eye into the eye of love. It is not a lesson finished, it is a practice alive. Every day, every glance, every meeting is another chance to see differently.