So I'm sitting in the doctor's office, where she's perusing the results of a routine blood test a little too closely for my liking. Covid-19 has obviously thrown out the 10 minute rule (which, quite honestly, I always ignored, but now want back!)

I'm about to ask if there's a problem when she says, "I think you need to make some changes to your diet."

"What sort of changes?" I ask warily.

She mutters something about Omega fatty acids, and I perk up.

"Oh, I love anchovies!"

To which she queries, "What about flaxseeds and walnuts?"

I ignore the former. I tried some once and...let's just say it was first-form French all over again. "Je ne comprends pas, Mademoiselle."

The second, though, holds more promise.

"Like walnut cake?" I venture.

The silence is deafening. I'm ready to swear her lips are pursed. But she's fully masked-up of course, so I have to settle for her eyes.

Which are inscrutable.

Remind me never to play cards with a doctor.

This short but unforgettable visit got me thinking about how facial expressions circa 2020/2021 are dead in the water. Unless someone devises a way for raised eyebrows to mean something other than a query or a put-down, we are stuck with the 'mirrors of our souls'*. Which may very well be a good thing.

Case in point: profiling - which I used to think was pure genius. From what I could tell, it was a logical deduction about a person based on their history and behaviour. Simple, straightforward and right up there with Pythagoras Theorem. But alas, I soon found out the analyses were too often based on complicated data and troubling assumptions.

In one particular episode, an expert in facial expressions and body language explained as fact that an unsub** who wouldn't look him in the eye - worse still covered their mouth when they spoke - was most probably lying. And hey presto, the method became as flawed as supposing black and white to be colours.

Numerous societies across Nigeria (and doubtless others the world over) consider it extremely rude to look an older person or superior in the eye. Deferential-but-guarded is the order of the day; one arm crossed over the abdomen and the other over the mouth, in order to preempt any accusations of insubordination. You see, in the 'third' world, one's place in society determines one's stance - be it posture, opinion, or just plain resignation.

However many gestures we studiously and conveniently ignore, though, the eyes do not lie. They are worthy of the numerous adjectives which describe them; tellingly, even more which offer a glimpse into their depths.

I can grimace in fake disgust, whilst my eyes dance with mirth. Conversely, I may smile brightly, belying an inner tale of abject misery.

Still, hard to tell the difference these days with so many eyes imprisoned behind the mascaraed bars of long silky 'borrowed' eyelashes...

The American philosopher, Henry David Thoreau, once asked, "Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?"

Such prescience.

If last year taught me anything, it would be that an inordinate number of us were on an emotional cliffhanger; simply being shored up by jobs, family duties, studies and the like, which all suddenly collapsed into a huge pile of nothing.

We were left bereft and helpless with no warning whatsoever, purely because we had invariably believed more in the lie of our allotted positions in the rat-race than in the natural societal norms of relationships and support structures.

The result? We didn’t notice each other’s pain. We missed the glaring clues played out in wistful and desperate glances. We settled for the convenient and the familiar.

But nine months has made an anachronism of those words. Instead we have learned to go the extra mile because the cost of not doing so always rebounds in an ugly manner.

That Old Testament paragon of suffering, Job, reached a turning point too when he confessed to God that, "I had only heard about you before, but now I have seen you with my own eyes."***

Whatever Job had once felt was strictly on the surface, unaware of a whole new world just past skin-deep waiting to be explored.

Sight, in all of its forms, is about clarity. This at least, we have achieved. Knowing what we lack, and knowing what we need.

So, here's to the much-maligned face mask.

Here's to it concealing the lies, but uncovering the truth.

Here's to us discovering neighbours and rediscovering friends.

Here's to a life in which we willingly approach the unappealing and the downright messy knowing it's the right thing to do.

Here's to a world in which our eyes sparkle with the fire of life and love and truth, and mentally burn down the bridges which keep us separated. This deep and inextinguishable flame is a reflection of the grace of God upon our lives. His grace.

Only this will outlast our present predicament.

Only this matters.

*'Les yeux sont le miroir de l'dme.' (French proverb)

**Unknown or unidentified subject

***Job42:5