In “At the Well,” Helen Keller, pre-Anne Sullivan, was trapped in a prison where she could not see, hear, or speak. Lacking these sources of information, her understanding of the world around her and her ability to relate to that world were both severely limited. She had no language and, therefore, no way to contemplate her environment. Trapped by her limited senses, she could not be who she was truly meant to be. She needed someone to translate the world around her and show her that the world could be named and understood. It must have been like a door opening to a whole new world of thought. Until Miss Sullivan showed her freedom, she had no notion of how trapped she had been.
Plato's "Allegory of the Cave"
image from http://home.comcast.net/~bhafer/cave.html
Helen’s case is severe but is still relatable to me. If there is one thing I know, it is that there is so much that I don’t know. I still see “shadows of the images,” as Plato calls it in “Allegory of the Cave,” of ideas that I barely grasp. This applies to my intellectual knowledge and understanding of the world as well as to my spiritual knowledge. Plato in his “Allegory of the Cave” talks of leaving the prison-house, where we live in darkness and see only shadows, and arriving in the outside world where, once adjusted to the brilliance of the sun, we see things as they are. He suggests that the ability to see what really is only comes after a slow process of adjusting our eyes to the new environment.
I have needed and still need teachers who have lived in the light and know the true names of things to help me make sense of what I am seeing. But ultimately, my own eyes must adjust and I must grasp the vision for myself. It is so difficult to consider abandoning ideas that once seemed unquestionably true. It is uncomfortable to let go of the familiar, the known world. In this place, beginning to grasp how much I don’t know, I wonder at times if something is wrong with me. Do I belong in the darkened cave where I’ve lived so long? Am I worthy or even capable of attaining this enlightened view of the world? Or am I setting myself up to be a frustrated failure?
This is where teachers and mentors who know, who’ve been where I am as well as where I am afraid to go, can be so valuable. They can tell me that it is possible. They can tell me that it is worth it. They can speak of the pleasure, the excitement and the joy of learning this new world. They can direct me to places and experiences that will help me to get started on a journey of discovery.
Here are a few quotes from the reading that struck me as particularly meaningful:
“Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.”
To me the sun, the source of all light, is the Son--Jesus Christ. I hope that I can see Him in his “proper place” and “contemplate him as he is.” Plato says this is the last step in our new found ability to see. That would suggest that I will know that I am being my true self only when I see Him as he truly is.
“Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already. . .”
This rings true. Helen was trapped and limited but not without capacity. Once set free, as she made the connection between the signs Miss Sullivan made in her hand and the cold, running water pouring over that hand, she could not be stopped from learning. Now she knew that there was so much to learn, and even more importantly, that she could learn it!
Finally Plato asks:
“What sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to being?”
Perhaps knowing that the capacity lies within me to access the incredible wealth of knowledge that lies just out of sight, behind me, casting the occasional shadow, would be motivating enough to turn my head from the old way of seeing and understanding the world. In a spiritual sense, when I know that I am a child of God, I know that I have inherited the potential to be as He is.
The question I am left asking myself is this: How can I help those whom I teach awaken to their own innate power and capacity to learn?
