Allegories:Allegory of the Blindfold
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Allegories:Allegory of the Blindfold
Imagine for a moment a society like no other—a civilization of love, peace, and compassion where nobody goes hungry, nobody wants for anything, and everyone is equally loved. Imagine a perfect society with few worries, no suffering, and no wants. Imagine a society where a wise and shining population danced out their days in peace, prosperity, and joy. Imagine a garden paradise, an Eden, a Shambhala.
Now, imagine that one day, for some reason, everybody in this society starts to wear a blindfold. One moment, the people are dancing in the light, and the next, they are plunged into darkness.
As you might guess, being plunged into darkness made life much more difficult. In darkness, the people struggled. They crashed into each other, they dropped things, and they broke things. It wasn’t long before the bumping and crashing caused frustration, anger, and pain. It was bad—and it got worse every day.
You would think that, as things continued to deteriorate, these people—these Dwellers in Darkness—would simply take off their blindfolds. But they did not. Dazed and confused, they quickly forgot they were even wearing blindfolds. And so, as generations passed, these once-shiny people gradually transformed into angry, bitter ogres who no longer had the time or energy to care about anything or anybody but themselves.
Still, no matter how bad the suffering became, and no matter how many generations passed, there were always stories. Elders told tales of a shiny, happy place that had once existed, where children danced and played. In this happy place, there was no poverty, war, or disease, and everyone smiled all the time. That, at least, was what the elders said—but most people thought they were just stories. Most accepted the status quo. Still, some wondered and some asked questions.
"Why is everything so dark and confusing?"
"Why are we always bumping into things?"
"Has it always been this way?"
Various answers were proposed.
Some searchers concluded there was no explanation for the darkness and confusion. For these Existential Depressives, the universe was empty, life had evolved randomly, and that was the end of the story. The best the Dwellers could do, they said, was simply accept the cold, bitter truth and find happiness however they could.
You have to admit, the depressives told a terrible story. Who wants to live in the terminal emptiness of the Existential’s darkness, after all? Many felt this way, and these ones struggled to find deeper meaning. In doing so, they appended bizarre purpose to their suffering. These Dwellers said that all the bumping and grinding was actually good for them—that it was punishment and penance for past bad actions, or that it was tempering of the immortal soul. It might be hard. There might be suffering. But, in the end, it would pay off, and there would be immortal sunshine and light.
As bizarre as these tales of punishment and penance were, many were quite taken by them—so many, in fact, that the priests became rich and powerful. Still, not everyone believed their fairy tales. Some continued to search for answers. These Explorers wandered hither and yon, over hill and dale, through cave and stream, until one day they wandered into a dark forest, sat down, ate some berries and mushrooms they found lying around—and had the blindfold completely blown off.
In a flash, they were enlightened.
In an instant, all was revealed.
With the blindfold off, they could see the problem quite clearly. Everybody was wearing a dumb blindfold. They didn’t need fantasy stories. They weren’t living in a dark universe. There was light and beauty all around. Even better, it was an easy fix. All they had to do was take the blindfold off—or so it initially seemed.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. It turns out that for eyes accustomed only to darkness, full daylight is too dazzling and bright. Full daylight quickly overwhelms, which is exactly what happened. The Explorers were overstimulated and quickly overwhelmed. Instinctively, they snatched their blindfolds back on.
And some were happy with that.
They had seen a world of wonder and glory, but they were overwhelmed by their glimpse and too afraid to try again. It was enough for them to know there was something more. And besides, as some of them found, a single glimpse was a powerful thing. It gave you hope—but it also gave you power. Mystified and made magical, it could mean book deals, speaking tours, and buckets and buckets of cash—just the thing to make the darkness easier to bear.
Still, a few were not satisfied with a brief glimpse, nor were they impressed with the mystical hawkers. They had seen a garden, and they yearned to live there. So, they rested and reflected. When they were ready, they went back and did it again, and again, and again—each time staying longer without their blindfold, each time being less overwhelmed, until finally they could live with no blindfold at all. And they returned—not as priests, not as merchants of mystery—but as teachers, artists, and healers, more than willing to show the way.
And they did.
At first, people were scared, scarred, and confused. The light hurt. The truth overwhelmed. But the teachers, artists, and healers were persistent.
"Breathe deeply. Stay calm. Don’t be afraid."
"It is beautiful!"
"Can you not see?"
And slowly, bit by bit, glimpse by glimpse, step by cautious step, the Dwellers learned to see again. And on the day of graduation, there was much rejoicing. A new dance had begun—a sacred dance, an ancient dance, reborn in the full light of day.