It can play tricks on you, sometimes… your mind’s eye can do that. When you’re seeing something — when you’re envisioning something — in your mind.
Like just last week, when my family and I were on a necessary trip to the Midwest. ‘Necessary,’ because traveling during a pandemic isn’t like traveling almost any other time. We thought long and hard about going ahead with the trip.
There were mask mandates at Airports, and during a stopover at the Phoenix airport, folks were wearing masks, for the most part. The relatively small number of people, who weren’t wearing them, were looking kind of defiant. Or, so I was envisioning, in my mind’s eye.
There’s this guy, with his back to us, who, in my mind’s eye, isn’t wearing a mask. Probably because the guy looks big and hulky. As he turns, slightly, I’m seeing a scraggly beard along the side of his face.
And then, when he turns all the way around, I realize my mind’s eye is way off. The guy’s complying with the airport’s mask mandate.
Later on, there’s another guy, wearing a bikers jacket, and he has tattoos. From the back, he looks tough, and in my mind’s eye, I’m seeing him without a mask, and I‘m betting he’s got a defiant look on his maskless face.
And when he changes direction, and is heading towards us, by golly, my mind’s eye, this time, is right. He’s maskless, and he’s looking defiant.
At the hotel, where we’re staying for a few days, in a state where wearing masks has just become optional, there’s a guy at the hotel elevators who’s not wearing a mask. He’s probably middle-aged, has a bushy-looking beard, and my mind’s eye is doing its thing, maybe jumping to conclusions.
We’re wearing masks.
And the guy looks at us, and wishes us a hearty “Good morning,” and asks “How are y’all doing?”
We share where we’re all from, during our brief conversation. He’s from Texas. We’re visiting from California. And we all go on exchanging pleasantries. And all’s well between the maskless Texan and us masked-up, ‘left coast’ folks.
And then, on another day, my wife asks me to get ice from an ice machine, down the hall from our room. I’m masked. A guy walking towards me is not. I say “Good morning,” and the look he gives me… as they say; If looks could kill…
Or is my mind’s eye playing tricks on me?
There were moments, during our trip, when I knew my mind’s eye was seeing as clearly as ever.
It was when we were at a small food store in Minneapolis. Cup Foods, where George Floyd lost his life.
And that mind’s eye of mine was seeing clearly, very clearly, the sadness, and love, among all the folks who, like us, had stopped by, to pay their respects.