The path of transformation

"It must be done at the darkest time of the year," the surgeon said. "That is the best hope for safety. And you may go blind anyway."

We all have dreaded words and moments when we feel the winds of the underworld howling around us. These were mine.

Since I was a small child, I always knew my vision impairment was a fact of life. Some of my earliest memories are of lying on a table in a dark room with a huge machine lowered over my face while doctors shown painful, bright lights into my eyes and asked me questions. As I recall, I was obsessed with Strawberry Shortcake dolls at the time and I told them about it... at length.

I was praised for being stoic and tough when it came to the exhausting eye exams, but I never understood why I should be praised. It had to be done. It had to.

For thirty-five years my eyes stayed much the same. There are lucky blind people and I was always one of them. Lucky is having eyes that don't change in disorienting ways. i was always extremely nearsighted and legally blind. But now my eyes are changing. I am developing cataracts early.

Everyone knows today that cataract surgery is no big deal though, right? Well, except for people with "severe myopia." That is very nearsighted people. Now, I'm one of the unluckier of the people with cataracts.

Oh, there is still a surgery for it, but in this case it is high risk.

"Bear in mind that this is a lot like an expedition to discover the north pole," the surgeon, one of the top specialists for cornea surgeries in the country who has also worked at top eye clinics in the US, says

Dear doctor, I hope that isn't supposed to be you being reassuring.

But the cataracts are progressing and if nothing is done, I won't be able to see much at all eventually. It's a lot like it was when I was a small child undergoing the diagnostic tests. This too must be faced.

Journeys into the darkness of our own underworld are often put off, avoided, denied or fought against. And usually that struggle makes the journey harder, more abrupt and more terrifying. I know this from other parts of life--the struggle with depression as well as political change.

So, if it must be done and it must be done at the dark of the year to decrease the risk, then it must.

On Monday, I go for the first cataract surgery, which specialists say is high risk and very unpredictable. There is some chance, though a very uncalculatable chance, that I will lose more of my sight. And there is some chance I will see a little better. There is also a significant chance, I'm told, that my eyesight will not improve or entirely fail but will just become disorienting, making me one of the less lucky legally blind people for once.

A journey into the underworld of the unknown requires a readiness to give up those things we cling to--if necessary--in order to undergo transformation.

I have thought long and hard about the transformation part. What is it that I can gain by going into the dark?

There is a chance that I may see more like I did a few years ago, at least for a few more years. I will not be "cured" from the perspective of others, but I can live quite happily in my blurry, magnifying-glass world.

But there is one thing I desperately want in my life. I want to have purpose. It doesn't have to be some great earth-shaking purpose. I used to dream of being a famous journalist or author. Then I wanted to be a great social justice activist, someone remembered and admired. Finally, I wanted to be a great mother to my children--to bring up children who would have wondrous choices and opportunities.

I am largely a failure.

When I tell my family this, they say I'm a whiner. And I am.

I'm not a famous author. Boohoo! First world problems, if there ever was one. I'm also not greatly admired among social justice activists. I have done my bits and played a supporting role in some very good causes. I can rest assured that I have made a difference, but no one will ever write me up with the heroes of the struggle to protect the earth and the climate just because I packed food in to Greenpeace treesitters.

And my kids? Okay, they are well fed and clothed, but they struggle with schooling, impulsivity and attention. They still have tantrums at school age, lots of tantrums. They will be like all of us--limited and earth-bound--in the end. I am doing the best I can as a mother but my illusions that by working smart and hard I could be "better" than most of the parents I see working frantically and clumsily around me have largely disintegrated.

Here's my thoughts once my kids turned three: "So that's why those mothers were screaming at their kids. Here I just thought they hadn't read the right parenting books or didn't have the self-discipline to stick to their guns."

Hahahaha! Now I get it.

I'm not a really bad failure. I'm just a failure at all the great dreams I had. And I feel rudderless and purposeless.

I have been told that great journeys into darkness can yield great transformation. This may well be another of my self delusions. But I have some inkling that this journey into the dark--the physical darkness of temporarily not seeing much at all after the surgery and the inner darkness of fear--may yield something.

If nothing else it may yield something because I will be forced to rest, be still and contemplate. The surgeon has demanded that I do virtually nothing for an entire month.

It seems that just as I am entering the underworld of darkness and fear, the world or at least my native country is going down right along with me. Yes, I am afraid of that too. I have children and they are not entirely white. I am in a country Donald Trump said he wants to put soldiers in. I'm afraid.

And yet I know this cannot be stopped. We tried.

And remember. It is not Trump who truly caused this plummet into the underworld. It was the fact that so many people have been stifled with hate media, lack of education, anger and disillusionment. When there is sickness, the journey into the dark always comes sooner or later. It is better to ask how we must transform our society than to blame one man who used the wind to fill his sail.

Let us face the darkness together and come through the transformation.