Light (again)

One hundred and seventy three: that's the number of times I've mentioned light in this blog. It's an obsession. I apologize in advance for writing about it again.

When I glimpsed this lamp and the play of light pouring through punched tin, I thought Yes, that's how I see!

Until Monday, I had been viewing lights -- Christmas lights, lamps, oncoming headlights -- as hazy orbs, encircled by radiant, rainbow nimbuses, the stuff of cosmic photographs. Hardly angelic, though oddly engaging, these halos signaled the speeding development of a too-early cataract.

Almost a week now after cataract surgery, I am surprised by the clarity of light leaping into my new lens. I hold one hand over the left eye and the screen is slightly creamy and dull; switch hands and eyes and the screen brightens and blues. My own remaining lens is isinglassing and the new one isn't.

Together, my eyes clarify and blur, like the way an idea for writing -- this blog post, for example -- emerges and submerges, focusing and fogging, struggling to take shape.

Like revision, my cataract and its removal have blessed me with second sights.