[Below is a beautiful story that Alam shared in our Awakin Circle last night!  It felt like a blessing to hear it.]

Good evening everyone, my name is Alam. Thank you so much for the beautiful reading and reflections. It brought up something very deep in me which I'd like to share.

About 50 years ago, my Dad got a call. He was wearing a white lab coat as well and he was a doctor in training. On the other line was his brother who said, "I want you to come immediately." When my Dad flew from London to Nairobi, his brother told him, "My baby daughter was just born but the strange thing is she isn't reacting to anything. She doesn't seem to cry very much. Can you have a look at her?"

My dad examined her and he said, "I'm afraid to tell you that your daughter will never ever be," and he used this word, "Normal." Of course, my Uncle was devastated.

Well, my cousin Yasmin just celebrated her 50th birthday. And my uncle is 82 now and he's cared for her and treated her the same way since the very beginning.

Yasmin cannot survive without human intervention. She cannot walk, she cannot eat on her own, she cannot move. She can't talk of course but when the reading said "fresh eyes" I remember playing with her at the age of 3. She was my favorite cousin, and we were always close. She didn't talk to me but she never judged me and I felt that she was my bet friend.

At the age of 4 and a half, though, I remember being told, "Your cousin is actually sick." I didn't believe it. I said, "What does this mean? She's not sick." I was in denial. "No, she's my friend," I retorted. Those were fresh eyes to me and I was being forced to wear them. It was as if I was being told, "You should go and play with other children who can play with you because your cousin cannot do that with you." It was an immense shock.

Second opportunity for seeing with fresh eyes came rather recently. I visited Yasmin in 2014 in London and she was about 48 at that time and I went to her house and I asked her mum, "How's she doing?" And she said, "She's been specially lively today. She just had a tooth extracted so I'm very surprised that she's still very lively. It's as if she knew you were coming."

I hadn't been there for 7 years so I went to her room and sat next to her in silence for about an hour, and after about half an hour she broke into an enormous smile which I had never seen before. As I was about to leave, Yasmin did something she'd never done before. She took her hand and she just rested it very gently on my arm. Her mother was shocked and said, "She only reserves that for the dentist when she's in extreme pain. It's a reflex action, and actually it's very very hard for her to move. It must have been a tremendous joy for her to see you."

At that point I think I grew a new pair of eyes. I realized that by being non-judgmental, Yasmine could be very very far away but still watch over me.  I felt that very very strongly in that moment.