“We must close our eyes and invoke a new manner of seeing a wakefulness that is the birthright of us all”
Closing external eyes opens internal sight.
There is a kind of seeing that has nothing to do with our eyes. Plotinus, a philosopher who lived nearly two thousand years ago, understood something profound about human nature — that we carry within us a deeper way of perceiving the world, one that does not depend on light or color or shape. When he wrote that we must close our eyes and invoke a new manner of seeing, he was not asking us to go blind. He was asking us to wake up to something we have always already had.
Most of us move through our days with our eyes wide open and our inner selves fast asleep. We scroll, we glance, we skim. We see the surface of things — the busy street, the crowded schedule, the face on the screen — but we rarely pause long enough to see what is underneath. We forget that beneath all the noise and motion, there is a quieter kind of awareness waiting for us, patient and steady, like a candle that never goes out.
BibiDuck knows this feeling well. Imagine a little duck sitting at the edge of a still pond at dusk, the world going quiet around her. She is not looking for anything in particular. She is simply present. And in that stillness, something shifts — the water looks deeper, the sky feels wider, and she feels, somehow, more herself. That is the wakefulness Plotinus is speaking of. It is not dramatic or loud. It arrives in the soft moments, the pauses, the breaths between everything else.
Think of a time when you stepped away from your phone, sat in a quiet room, or took a slow walk with no destination in mind. Maybe something loosened in your chest. Maybe a thought surfaced that had been waiting a long time to be heard. That is your inner sight coming online. It is not a skill you need to learn from scratch — it is a birthright, as Plotinus says, something you were born with and have simply forgotten how to use. Solitude is not emptiness. It is the condition in which this deeper seeing becomes possible.
So today, even for just a few minutes, try closing your eyes — not to sleep, but to see. Sit with the quiet. Let the inner world grow a little brighter. You do not need to go anywhere or figure anything out. You only need to remember that this wakefulness belongs to you, that it has always belonged to you, and that it is ready whenever you are willing to turn toward it.
